Her Reformed Rake (Wicked Husbands #3)(31)
He frowned then, but the severity of it only seemed to intensify his looks rather than detract from them. “You do not displease me, Daisy.”
And yet his every reaction to her suggested the complete opposite. “Clearly I have or else you wouldn’t have left me on our wedding day only to return the next morning smelling of whisky, wearing the same clothes you departed in.”
There. She’d said it. And a humiliating tear was poised at the corner of her eye, drat it all. She would not allow it to fall. Would not. When he didn’t immediately speak, she launched into another speech, fearing the silence and what it would do to her. “I understand you resent me for having trapped you. It wasn’t fair of me to place my own wellbeing and desires before yours. Fear of my father is not sufficient excuse. If I could redo what I’ve done, I would, knowing how wrong it was. But I would very much like our marriage to be a cordial one… pleasant, even. I think perhaps we might be friends, if you’ll but grant me your forgiveness and a second chance. Do you think you can, Your Grace?”
“Sebastian.” He stood so abruptly that his chair flew back, nearly toppling over.
She should have stood as well, but something about the man and the moment kept her rooted to her chair, incapable of motion.
“Sebastian,” she repeated hesitantly as he circled the desk and approached her.
He was inscrutable yet determined. He slid between her skirts and the front of his desk, bracing his big hands on the polished arms of the chair and lowering his head to meet her gaze. “Daisy.”
His eyes were twin pools of hot, blue fire, burning into her where she sat. “Yes?”
“You didn’t entrap me.”
“Of course I did,” she argued. “It’s the reason you’ve been so cold. The reason why you don’t want to consummate our marriage. I understand. Truly, I do. What I’ve done is despicable. I would not want me either.”
“I want you.” His tone had softened. He leaned down, clasping her hands with his and pulling her to her feet. One tug and she fell against him. “I followed you. I kissed you. I dishonored you. I married you. My behavior last night was… regrettable. I’m sorry for leaving you here alone to wonder. All I can say is that my mind has been whirling ever since I first laid eyes on you.”
She liked the feeling of his body burning into hers. And she wanted to believe him, even if a troubling undercurrent she couldn’t quite identify tinged his words. His gaze devoured her with a hunger that threatened to light an answering fire within her. How she wished she could know his heart. Hear the inner workings of his capable mind. Was he being honest with her now? Or was he, as she suspected, withholding some part of himself?
“You’re only seeking to assuage my guilt,” she dismissed, trying to disentangle her hands from his grasp. “You mustn’t, Sebastian. What I did was unconscionable. I can only think it was a moment of weakness, fearing my father’s imminent return, which led me to act as I did.”
He wouldn’t allow it, holding firm, the connection of his bare skin on hers sparking the ever-present need within her into a full, engulfing flame. “You will cease, my dear. An apology is not what I require at this moment.”
She shouldn’t dare to ask what it was he required. Everything about his demeanor had changed. He fairly smoldered. But he was her husband now, some wickedness inside her reminded. He was hers. She could dare as she pleased.
Daisy rocked to her tiptoes, bringing her mouth nearly flush with his. His breath was hot, ghosting across lips that tingled with anticipation. Lips that longed to be claimed. “What do you require, Your Grace?”
A wolfish smile pulled at his sensual mouth. “Sebastian. What do you require, Sebastian?”
“Sebastian,” she relented. And then her mind returned to her, piercing the rose-colored haze wrought by her foolish need. He had abandoned her last night, only to return this morning. Inebriated. “If you want me as much as you claim, and if you aren’t angry with me for forcing your hand, then nothing makes sense. Why did you leave me last night, Sebastian?”
He inhaled sharply, almost as though she’d surprised him with her boldness. Good.
Those beautiful lips frowned at her. “Honor.”
Here, at last, was something torn from him with a ring of truth. The rest, she was beginning to suspect, was pure, masculine seduction. But she had faced many a handsome rake, and having lived twenty years in fear of her father, she could harden herself better than anyone. She’d spent her entire life reinforcing herself against everyone—it was something of a talent by this juncture.
And it was that same inurement that led her now. She could not forget that regardless of how handsome and alluring her husband was, she didn’t know him and couldn’t trust him. Just as she had never been able to trust anyone other than herself. Ever. “Honor made you lose yourself into a decanter of whisky and only return by breakfast?”
“Not precisely, buttercup.” His frown turned into a smile, though it held little warmth. “But I suspect you already know that, being the intelligent, resourceful woman that you are. Which begs the question: what do you want from me?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Honesty.”
By all the heavens, she hadn’t escaped one untenable situation for another. And if she’d somehow misread the signs, she would remove herself as expediently as possible. Since their vows, a new sense of understanding had dawned upon her. For the first time in her life, she was unencumbered by the watchful tyranny of her father. During her season, Aunt Caroline had perpetuated the crime by proxy. But now, she was free.