A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(35)

“Thank you, Georgie.” She cut her off to avoid hearing more. She had no time for her sister’s romantic notions, not now that she had made her decision to make this marriage a business arrangement. “But there is something I would like to discuss with Galwin.” She swallowed down a tide of nervous energy. “Something best spoken about in privacy.”

Arching her brows, she gave Georgie a meaningful look that she hoped conveyed her urgency.

Georgie’s eyes rounded but she nodded quickly. “Of course. You two are to be married in the morning. I cannot imagine that a private meeting would be so very disastrous.” Georgie gave her a conspiratorial smile just as a knock interrupted them.

Greta, their maid, poked her head in. “Lord Nicholas has arrived, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Greta. Please show him in.”

Once the maid disappeared, Georgie went back to her place by the window and Claire folded her hands in her lap, mentally preparing for the best way to go about this.

She fidgeted with the lace at the edge of her sleeve and she caught herself worrying her lower lip with her teeth. She was nervous beyond all measure, and more than that, she felt as though she were about to take a leap off a very high cliff. But she supposed trepidation was in order. After all, it wasn’t every day one proposed an arrangement for a marriage in name only.





Chapter Ten





Galwin reached the Clevelands’ townhouse and bounded up the steps. Bounded. As in he took great leaping strides befitting a young child or a horse.

He was neither.

He was a man in love. If he’d had any doubts before, they had been neatly eradicated by weeks of unceasingly wonderful interactions. Each visit started out the same and as he approached he braced himself for the unspoken battle that was sure to come.

It wasn’t so much a battle as a game now, at least for him. How quickly could he wear away that thick shield of detachment and politeness?

And he always managed to wear her down, with teasing and laughter, or when all else failed, by making her angry.

He lived to make Claire Cleveland angry.

Oh, not in a nasty way. Just enough to rile her, to see her brilliant blue eyes flash with emotion. Just enough to reach beneath that cool exterior to her heated, passionate core.

He held back a groan as he reached the door. He couldn’t let his mind wander to Claire’s passionate core lest he lose what little hold he had over his desire. Lord Almighty, waiting until tomorrow to hold her, kiss her, touch her…it was a keen and particular form of torture.

These last weeks he had held back from any intimacy, not just because there had always been a chaperone nearby, but because he wasn’t entirely certain he could restrain his desires if the temptation grew too great.

As it was, just sitting across from her made him ache with longing. If he kissed her, there was no telling what he might do.

Besides, she wasn’t ready. Not yet. He’d vowed to himself that he wouldn’t touch her again until she wanted him as he wanted her. Not until he’d broken through her defenses for good and made her his wife in more than just name.

Of course, it was a risky gamble. One thing he knew for certain was that she felt this attraction between them. Perhaps he should be using that to his advantage in his quest to win her.

But then, it would be too easy for her to misconstrue this connection between them as nothing more than…what was it she’d said? Natural urges. Yes, she was likely even now trying to tell herself that what she felt for him was the result of these nefarious “natural urges.” And that he could not allow. If he wanted her to see that this could be real between them, she needed to be convinced that it was more than mere lust.

He knocked on the door and waited impatiently to be let in. These visiting hours were the highlight of his days and nights. He could hardly wait until she was his wife and in his life without restraints and chaperones. Until she was his wife every way possibly…including his bed.

The door was thrown open, but rather than facing the friendly smile of Greta, the family maid, or the dour frown of their elderly butler, he found himself face to face with Jed—one of his oldest and closest friends.

Oh dear.

He took a half step back at Jed’s menacing scowl. Galwin still hadn’t spoken to Jed since the day after the ball when it had all been decided and the marriage papers signed.

But then, Davenport had been there that day and had taken charge of the situation as though Claire were his charge and not Jed’s. And in many ways, she likely was. He knew Davenport had contributed mightily to her dowry, and it was his money that had saved Jed from himself as well.

He hadn’t expected his friend to be happy about this sudden marriage between him and his sister, but he hadn’t expected this stony silence either. Every time Jed spotted him with Claire, he gave him a glare before turning back to whatever task was at hand. Once Galwin had attempted to speak to him and the other man had turned away, giving him the cut direct.

Years of friendship and Galwin feared he’d ruined it all with this hasty marriage. But then, it wasn’t all his fault. He’d been trying to do the honorable thing by escorting her back to the party, and by offering for her hand when the rumors swirled.

His mind called up an image of kissing her passionately in the alley, and then later in the darkened room at Davenport’s.