The Rogue's Wager (Sinful Brides #1)(97)

“Your brothers were more obliging of my presence on the floors when I expressed my intentions,” he said, perfectly interpreting her thoughts.

Helena’s eyes flew open. His intentions? Her heart skipped a beat.

“Surely you did not think I’d allow you to leave so easily?” he murmured, dropping his brow to hers. He rubbed back and forth. “Not without at least properly offering for you.”

Helena leaned into him, taking in the warmth falling off his powerful, and very much alive, frame. She breathed in the sandalwood scent that was so very much Robert Dennington. “You already did.” She’d accepted that gift, and then quickly abandoned it with reality’s intrusion.

He made a tsking sound, and with his knuckles tipped her chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. “But I didn’t. Not truly. I offered you marriage.”

And how desperately she wanted that future with him, one of laughter and love and children . . .

“But I did not think of all you would be giving up.” He spread his arms wide, motioning to her chambers, and she mourned the loss of his fleeting caress. Robert retrieved the leather books he’d deposited on her bed, and held them up. “You see, Helena, I can give you what every other woman has only wanted . . . a title.” Fools all of them. “But with my crumbling estates, I can give you nothing more.”

“I never cared about that, Robert,” she managed to whisper.

He grinned. “Oh, I know that. You were quite clear when you stated your preference for binding yourself to Boney’s dead bones.”

A broken laugh bubbled forth. Had she truly said that?

“I assure you. You did.” What a synchronic harmony there existed between them. “Then, as I lay in bed, which I did.” He paused. “For a long while.” The blade of guilt twisted all the deeper. My fault. It was my fault. He tapped a fingertip along his chin. “I considered what I could offer a woman who didn’t have a desire for my title or a need for wealth.”

Nothing. She’d needed nothing, but him . . .

He dumped his small stack of books into her arms. Furrowing her brow, Helena glanced at the burden.

“They are my family’s ledgers,” he went on. “I explained to my father that after a month of toiling over the numbers, we would no doubt remain in dun territory as long as Stonely handled our finances. I decided, and he agreed, only one person could make proper rights of our books.” Her heart tripped a beat. “I would turn over the bookkeeping to you, should you desire it.” He grimaced. “I’ve no doubt with your acumen, you can salvage my estates better than any man-of-affairs in the whole of the kingdom.” Again, he glanced about her room. “Or if you prefer to remain on as bookkeeper here, then I would never stand in your way. Your dowry would remain in your hands, for our children.” He held her gaze. “I would, however, ask that you allow me to live here with you.”

Oh, God. How was it possible to fall even more in love with him? He would make that offering for her? He would trust his estates to her care? Her shuddery sob filtered about them, and she carefully set his books on her bed.

Robert held her gaze, continuing his relentless assault on her weakening defenses. “I love you, Helena Banbury,” he said with such love radiating from his blue eyes, she sank to the edge of the bed. Helena hugged her arms to her waist and stared down at her feet, stiffening as Robert sank to a knee beside her. “If you left because you despise me and everything having to do with my title—”

“I no longer feel that way,” she said on a tremulous whisper. Now, he was all her heart hungered for. Surely he knew that?

Robert caressed her face with his gaze. “I thought of what I would offer you,” he continued in solemn tones that washed over her. “I’d offer you my heart, but you already know you have that, and it was not enough.”

A teardrop squeezed from the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. Followed by another. And another. “Is that what you believe?” Emotion hoarsened her voice.

He quirked an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”

How could he not know that her heart now beat for him, that he was her happiness and her light? Diggory’s ugly laugh echoed around the chambers of her mind with the blare of a pistol’s report. She jerked and with a sound of frustration, Helena shoved to her feet and began to pace. “You nearly died.”

“And I’d do it again without hesitation,” he said with such calm, her control snapped.

“But I do not want you to make that sacrifice for me,” she cried. “I want you alive and happy and . . .” the fight went out of her. “Not dead.” Helena shut her eyes, hating the weakness inside that made her want to selfishly take what he offered.

Warm, strong hands captured hers, bringing her eyes open. “Is that what this is about?” he asked, not relinquishing his hold on her. “Protecting me.”

There was so much tenderness and love in that question that tears flooded her eyes. She nodded jerkily. “Diggory’s men will not rest until he’s avenged.”

“Then we’ll face it together.”

A half laugh, half sob escaped her. How resolute he was. “I can’t, R-Robert.” Her voice cracked. How did he not yet see the peril that faced him in marrying her?

“Oh, Helena,” he murmured, and with his thumb he captured a single teardrop as it trailed a path down her cheek. “You talk about wanting me alive and happy, and yet how can you not know?”