A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(42)



Where her mind whirled with confusion, her body had no qualms. She eagerly met his kiss, wallowing in the sensual feel of him as well as the sweet bliss of surrendering to the passion of the moment.

The lack of speech and thought were a blessed relief. She might not know what to say or how to feel, but her body knew how to respond with no direction and no questions asked.

If only that were enough.

The sound of a throat clearing in the doorway brought her back to the moment and she pulled back in shock, more at her own loss of her senses than anything else. She cast a look around the room and found Georgie smirking at her as she held up some thread. “You’ll be happy to know I found it.”

What? What was she talking about? Her mind felt fuzzy and confused and her heart…her heart was racing in its attempt to be free. When she looked back at Nicholas his gaze was still steady on her face and he reached up to cup her cheek once more, holding her attention with the gentle touch.

“I’ll need an answer, my love.” His eyes looked pained, almost regretful. “I wish I had more time to try to persuade you, but perhaps it’s for the best. I fear I could spend a lifetime trying to make you see how much you mean to me, but at some point it is no longer about how I feel.” He leaned in closer, his voice close to a whisper. “It is about what you believe.”

She swallowed down the thick feeling, her lips parting to speak. But what to say? She wanted to ease his pain, she wanted to wash away the regret and the pain in his eyes. But how?

She would only be hurting him further if she spoke without thinking. Their futures, their lives rested in her hands and it was not a decision to be made while her mind was whirling and her body trembling with passion.

He backed away slowly. “I’ll be home this evening. Send word if you want to cry off and I will speak to Davenport about forcing the baron’s hand. If I do not hear from you, I will assume that you have given me the benefit of the doubt.”

Drawing her brows together, she gave him a questioning look. Benefit of the doubt?’

He stroked her cheek with his thumb and gave her another sad smile, one that looked haunted rather than rakish. “I don’t expect you to fall in love with me instantly as I have done, but if you marry me, I promise I will do everything in my power to bring you joy and to cherish you as you deserve. It may never be true love on your part, and that I would have to live with. But I believe we could share affection, at the very least, and I—” He hesitated briefly. “I could live with that.” His lips turned down in a frown. “Just do not ask me to treat this marriage as some sort of business contract with an expiration date and an understanding about a future freedom that I’ve never asked for nor wanted. For that I cannot do.”

He turned to leave.

“I’m sorry.” Her words came out as a whisper and though they did not seem sufficient, she hoped he understood what she’d meant. Now that he’d laid his heart bare, she was overcome with shame at what she had suggested. She had painted him with the same brush as her father, though he had never given her reason. Oh he might have a reputation, but she knew better than anyone how flimsy rumor and gossip could be. They rarely, if ever, told the whole story.

His gaze searched her for a moment and then he gave her a little smile. “Do not fret, love. Just think it over and whatever you decide, we will make work. All that matters is that your reputation is not ruined in all of this.”

Before she could say more, he turned and with a short nod to Georgie, walked out. She heard the front door slam closed behind him and the sound felt like a blow. He was gone and now it was up to her to answer the question that would decide her fate.

Could she trust a rake with her heart?





Chapter Twelve





What had he done? The same question played over and over in Galwin’s mind as he slowly made his way home. What had he done?

But there had been nothing for it but to be honest with her. He knew with everything inside him that he could not live with the sort of false marriage she’d described. Even hearing her talk of it had made him ill.

It was everything that he did not want. It sounded like hell on earth.

Worse than living a life without her at all?

He groaned at the thought. No, surely nothing could be worse than losing her for good. And that was an option now, thanks to him. He had issued an ultimatum and put his future happiness on the line.

All these years of chiding Jed on his awful gambling habit and now, here he was, gambling his very heart.

But what was the alternative? Agree to her ridiculous demands and live a shell of a life?

No, that held little appeal as well. All or nothing, that was what he wanted. Granted, at the end he had to compromise, and even that did not sit well. Did he really think he could be happy with a wife he loved more than life itself but who only tolerated him in return?

Yes. He could live with that. It would be painful but better than either of the other options on the table. Certainly better than not having her at all, and better even than living together but separately, a player in his own life.

He climbed the stairs to his family’s townhouse with heavy steps. There was nothing jubilant or victorious to be celebrated today. The wedding tomorrow would be a compromise at best for his beloved.

If she went through with it at all.

He’d nearly reached the stairs, prepared to head to his room with a scotch and a good book—the best means he could think of to avoid contemplating the decision that was coming. The decision that would inevitably change his life, for better or worse.

Maggie Dallen's Books