The Earl of Davenport: Wicked Regency Romance (Wicked Earls' Club #7)(14)

Chapter Four





He wanted the kiss to continue. Lord Almighty, he loved kissing this woman.

Proof enough that he’d chosen well, he decided. But after several heart-thumping moments, he eased back, his hands still cupping her face. He was unexpectedly overcome with the urge to pull her against him and never let go. She was his.

He stared at her wide blue eyes for a moment in surprise.

Oh, he’d known that he desired her. He’d been battling a barrage of sexual fantasies from the moment he’d seen her standing there in his drawing room, all grown up and perfectly filled out.

Little Anne had turned into quite the woman.

But now that overwhelming desire was equally exciting and terrifying. Of course he wanted to desire his wife, but this all-consuming passion was new and not entirely welcome. Every time his lips touched hers, his mind went blank.

Typically he could keep some distance, even when making love to a beautiful woman. He’d always excelled at keeping a part of himself locked away, a piece of his mind and heart always safely removed from the intimacy of the moment.

But that sort of distance proved to be impossible with his little hellion.

She blinked at him now, her gaze deliciously dazed from the kiss.

Damn, but he couldn’t wait to see her expression on their wedding night.

An insanity seemed to grip him. A need so fierce and overwhelming, he acted on it without thought. “We leave today to marry.”

Her gasp brought some semblance of sanity back. “B-but—” she started to protest.

For some reason her protest only fanned the flames of whatever fever had him in its grip. She was his. He didn’t want her to change her mind. He couldn’t let her out of his grasp now that he had her.

With that thought, he came to stand, not trusting himself to touch her one moment longer for fear he wouldn’t stop. Then he would surely scare her away.

She looked like she might protest again and a new, foreign terror swept through him. Hell, what was happening to him? One day he was single and in control and the next he was engaged and acting as though he’d just escaped Bedlam. He hid behind the mask he’d been wearing for years now—the wicked, powerful earl. “You’ll want to start packing, I imagine,” he said, moving away from his fiancée and making a show of donning his riding gloves.

In reality he was going through an internal battle between his rational mind, which told him to slow down, and this new, gripping terror that told him to make her his as soon as humanly possible.

The gripping need won out over reason. “I’ll come to collect you in an hour and we’ll make our way to Gretna Green.”

As he walked out the door, his last vision of his soon-to-be wife was of her gaping at him, apparently struck speechless by the new turn of events.

Not that he could blame her.

He found Claire and the maid who’d let him in hovering outside the door. When he stopped in front of them, they gazed up at him with wide eyes. Whether they were wide with shock or horror, he did not know and did not wish to guess.

Though Claire may have been willing to marry him to save the family, he doubted she would wish the same fate upon her younger sister.

He adjusted his cravat, which suddenly felt too tight. He did not have time to worry about Claire’s feelings on the matter. What was done, was done. Besides, her family would reap the rewards of this union, so who could rightly complain?

“Your brother,” he said to Claire. “Is he at home?”

It went without saying which brother he needed to speak with.

She gave a jerky nod. “Y-yes, my lord. Jed is in his study.” Turning to the maid, she said, “Greta, will you show him the way?”

The wide-eyed maid nodded and led him down a hall. Claire, he noted, hurried in to the drawing room, most likely to interrogate Anne.

Jed’s head snapped up when he walked in behind the maid, who promptly made her excuses and slipped out into the hallway.

“Davenport!” With his fair hair and classically handsome features, Jed was the male version of Claire. Except that where Claire was demure and proper, Jed was a gambler and a rake. And whereas Claire had pink cheeks and a healthy glow, Jed looked peaked and gaunt. He looked far older than his years and far worse than the last time he’d seen him.

Come to think of it, Jed used to be a male version of Claire. This Jed bore little resemblance to Claire other than the blond hair.

“Davenport, what a surprise.” Jed was slow to stand and his emotions raced across his face one by on. Shock, then confusion, then grim understanding at the expression on Davenport’s face. “I suppose you’ve heard about our troubles?”

Our troubles. As though there were anyone to blame but him. Still, seeing his old friend looking so weak and desperate brought with it a wave of self-reproach. He should have done more sooner.

He tugged at his cravat again. It was well time he hired a new valet as his current one seemed intent on strangling him.

Jed was eyeing him warily, no doubt wondering how exactly he intended to help.

Davenport helped himself to the seat across from Jed. “I’ll be brief as I have much to do before I marry your sister.”

Jed’s mouth went slack and he fell back into his seat.

“As part of the marriage contract, I will agree to pay off all of your debts and ensure that you have the necessary funds to provide for your family and maintain your home.”