A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(48)

Claire was shaking her head before she’d finished speaking. There was urgency in every heartbeat. Now that she knew what she wanted—who she wanted—she needed him to know it.

For the second time in her life a decision had been made that opened up her life and set her on a new course. But this time it was a decision that she’d made and that gave her a feeling of power over this newfound freedom rather than a floundering sense of unease.

“Tomorrow is not soon enough,” she said. She knew what had to be done…just not how it would be done. Sneaking out of a ball had been one thing, but sneaking into a duke’s home? That was quite another.

Anne squeezed her hand once more and when she glanced over, she saw her sister’s eyes were filled with mischief. “I can help you.”

Claire raised her brows and she saw Georgie’s mirrored expression of surprise. “You?” Georgie asked.

“You can?” Claire said at the same time.

Anne looked quite smug as she murmured her agreement. “Indeed I can. One doesn’t marry the Devil of Davenport and not learn a few tricks, you know.”





Chapter Fourteen





Galwin was certain he was seeing things when he entered his chambers. He’d spent the better part of the evening in his father’s room, talking to him when he was awake and stewing over his own maudlin thoughts when he slept.

The scotch had set in but it hadn’t done its job. All he felt was sleepy frustration rather than the hoped for fuzzy contentment. He had a feeling no amount of scotch would make him feel contented. Nothing could do that but Claire.

Claire, who he could swear he saw hiding in the shadows of his room when he entered.

Lord, perhaps he’d had more scotch than he’d thought if he was seeing visions of his bride-to-be. He shook his head to clear it but as he did, the vision moved.

She took a hesitant step forward and there was no mistaking that lovely face or those big blue eyes as a ghostly apparition.

“Claire?” He crossed to her and pulled her into his arms without thinking. His lips crushed hers as shock gave way to relief and sheer joy at the sight of her. She froze beneath his touch and for a moment he feared the worst.

She had come here to call off the wedding in person. But before despair could set in, she was kissing him back, so eagerly, so earnestly. Her kisses were untutored and passionate, eager and exploratory.

He groaned when she slipped her tongue between his lips and stroked his as he had done to her before.

He held her tight, his hands bunching in the material of her skirts as if he could hold onto her forever if he had a good enough grip. She tasted of honey and tea, her mouth so warm and inviting he could lose himself in this embrace forever.

When she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer so her soft, lush breasts were pressed against his chest, he had to stop himself from hoisting her into his arms and carrying her to his bed.

A fevered voice urged him on. Why not do it? Why not take her now as they would be married in the morrow?

Unless they would not.

That thought finally broke through this frantic desire and the overwhelmingly possessive need to make her his. What if she did not want to be his?

Perhaps she’d been swept away by desire just as he had been. There was every possibility she was here for the wrong reason.

With that thought, he gripped her arms and gently set her aside, trying not to notice the way her rapid breathing made her breasts rise and fall so very temptingly.

“Claire, what are you doing here?” he asked.

She blinked, her gaze clearly dazed, but he watched as the focus returned to her eyes and with it a nervousness that made him want to shout. No! Don’t end this before it has begun.

“I needed to see you before we marry,” she said softly.

He stared into her eyes trying to read everything there. She looked nervous, yes, but not cold. Not distant. “So we will marry tomorrow?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Relief rushed through him so fast and fierce it nearly knocked him off his feet. “Thank God,” he murmured, allowing himself one moment to close his eyes and revel in the fact that his world would not end this night. He still had a chance to woo her and she was agreeing to give him a chance.

He snapped his eyes open as he reached for her hands. “I will make you happy, love, or I will die trying.”

Her lips curved up slightly in amusement but she looked no less nervous.

Bloody hell. Perhaps he was asking too much for her to be fully on board with this arrangement when her own proposal had been so very different. “Thank you for giving me a chance,” he said. “And for telling me in person.” He frowned down at her as he realized exactly what he’d said. “How did you come to be here in person, anyway?” Fear on her behalf struck him. “Please tell me you did not roam the streets of London alone again.” Before she could answer he pulled her close once more. “Once we are married, I am all for you having every adventure your mischievous mind can imagine, but I must insist that I be at your side. I trust you, of course, but it is the rest of London that I—”

Her kiss silenced him. She’d shot up on tiptoe so quickly he hadn’t seen it coming. Next thing he knew her lips covered his and she pressed against him eagerly, passionately. Almost as if… Almost as if she were trying to tell him something with this sweet kiss.