A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(33)

I want you to be free. Isn’t that what you want too?

That question still haunted her. Why hadn’t she said no? Perhaps then he would have ended this quest. But no, she had been a ninny—a silent, wavering ninny. She hadn’t thought to stop him, or to protest. She hadn’t thought at all, that had been the problem. Her mind had ceased working.

She blamed his kisses.

As she scowled down at the offensive and poorly executed needlework, she found herself mentally cursing the man and his kisses.

Even as she said a little prayer that he would kiss her again today.

Blast. The man had bewitched her with kisses! Had she known that kissing could be so addictive and lethal to her common sense, she might never have allowed him to kiss her in the first place.

And what a shame that would have been, a little voice taunted. A life without knowing Nicholas’s kisses? That sounded like no life at all.

That voice right there, that was the problem. It was the voice of temptation, the voice of irrational rebellion. It was a voice she’d muted for most of her life, but now it seemed to grow louder with each passing day. That voice was the root of all evil in her life.

Well, that voice and kisses.

And Nicholas.

She threw the embroidery down with a grunt not at all befitting a young lady.

Nicholas was the real problem here and he wasn’t so easy to discard as the needlework. After tomorrow he would be her husband. She would be stuck with him and his tempting lips for the rest of her life.

“Is everything all right, Claire?” Georgie asked from the window seat where she’d been perched with a book for the past hour. As her chaperone for these visits, she’d found a spot where she could read the afternoon away while Claire was left to fend for herself.

Oh, not that Nicholas was inappropriate during these visits. When he wasn’t playing the part of the proper suitor in their drawing room, he was accompanying her for a drive through the park or escorting her out for tea and crumpets at her favorite tearoom.

All the while they were chaperoned. It was all quite proper. Too proper, really. She was starting to get confused. Who was this gentleman with his steadfast attentions and his polite, charming small talk?

He surely wasn’t Lord Nicholas, the nefarious rake who flirted outrageously and spent his evenings carousing with a fast set.

No, this man did not fit the image she had in her mind, and for that she found herself irrationally irritated. Who did he think he was fooling with this gentlemanly act? Who did he think he was to try to woo her as if this was some sort of love match and not a noose around his neck?

Part of her knew she should be grateful. He was clearly trying to make her happy. He must assume that she would want an attentive beau.

Or maybe she was giving him too much credit. Perhaps his intentions were less altruistic. Maybe he wanted to make her fall in love with him. It was just as likely that his ego wanted her to be smitten with him just like all the other women of the ton.

She knew enough of male pride to know that could very well be true. She had seen her father consistently woo her mother. He would come home looking sheepish and repentant. His arms would be filled with presents and his eyes filled with guilt.

After a day or two of cold silence, her mother would relent. She would allow him back into her good graces, only to lose him again a short time later to whatever new fancy caught his eye.

Of course no one had ever explained this to her, but she had been a perceptive child and more aware of what was going on around her than she had let on. It had been so clear to her that as she’d gotten older she’d thought to address it with her mother but had never summoned the courage.

Then they’d died in the carriage accident and she never had her chance. Probably for the best, really.

“Claire?” Georgie’s voice cut into her thoughts and she looked up with a start to see that her sister was standing before her, book in hand. “I’d asked if you were all right.”

Georgie’s pretty brow was furrowed with concern. Sweet, outgoing, optimistic Georgie—her worry looked as unnatural on her countenance as a storm cloud on a sunny day.

She forced a broad smile. “Of course I am all right, don’t be silly.”

Georgie’s frown eased, but she still looked wary. “Are you looking forward to seeing Lord Nicholas?”

Her forced smile faltered. “Of course.”

And that was the truth, she realized with no small amount of horror. Much as she resented him for making her like him, much as she might question his motives, she could not lie to herself.

She enjoyed his company. Too much. Even as she feared his arrival, she was excited to see him.

Oh blast. She bit her lip as she picked up the dreaded embroidery once more. How could this be? How could she have allowed this to happen?

She narrowed her eyes at the flowery edge of her embroidery and jabbed a needle through it with too much force. He had done this to her.

“It seems the two of you have been getting on quite well,” Georgie said.

Claire did not have to look up to know that her sister was watching her expectantly. Georgie’s prying had never been subtle. Claire made a vague hmm noise that she hoped would suffice as an answer.

The truth was, they had been getting on quite well. They had been getting on far too well. Though she braced herself before each and every visit, reminding herself of the true nature of their relationship, she found herself succumbing to his charm before a quarter hour passed. His quick wit and his devilish charm were irresistible. She still wasn’t quite sure how he managed to sneak past her defenses, but he did it effortlessly at each and every visit.