“This morning I fought a duel.”
“What?” Her heart dropped into her stomach. Good Lord. How could that be? “I-I don’t understand.” She must have heard him wrong. Surely the man she’d fallen in love with wasn’t the violent sort.
“I killed a man, Bree. In a duel.”
She hadn’t misheard him, then. Still scarcely able to believe it, she roamed the little clearing, her blood like sludge in her veins. “What on earth would even make you do such a thing?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He threaded his fingers through his sun-kissed hair. “It’s done, and now I risk being hanged.”
Hanged? Why would he be—
Of course. Dueling was considered murder. Her heart stilled. Her love was a murderer. And now he could die, too!
“So I’m leaving England tonight,” he went on. “For good.”
The full ramifications of all he’d revealed hit her. “You . . . you’re leaving England,” she echoed hollowly. And me.
His gaze met hers. “Yes. And I want you to go with me.”
That arrested her. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“I’m asking you to marry me.” He seized her hands. “Well, to elope with me. We’ll go by ship to Spain, and we’ll wed there. Then my friends in Valencia will help us settle in.”
She gaped at him. He was serious. He actually meant for her to leave her family and home and run away with him now that he’d gone off and killed a man.
But in a duel. Might it not have been done with good reason?
“Do you have to go abroad?” she asked. “Sometimes the courts will acquit a gentleman of the charges, assuming the duel was a just one—”
“It was.” His face clouded over. “But I can’t risk defending myself in court.”
“What do you mean? Why not?”
His expression grew shuttered. “I can’t say. It’s . . . complicated.”
“It can’t be more complicated than running away to the Continent, for pity’s sake.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “Look, I’ve made a vow to keep the reasons for the duel quiet. And I have to keep that vow.”
“Even from me?” She couldn’t hide the hurt in her voice. “Why? Who demanded such a thing of you?”
“I can’t say, damn it!” When she flinched, he said, “It’s not important.”
“It certainly is to me. You want me to run off with you, but you won’t even explain why you fought or even with whom you dueled?”
Letting out an oath, he stared past her into the woods. “I suppose I can reveal the other party in the duel, since that will get around soon enough. The man’s name is Joseph Whiting.”
She didn’t know any Joseph Whiting, so that bit of information wasn’t terribly helpful.
“But that’s all I can reveal.” He fixed her with a hard look. “You’re simply going to have to trust me on this. Go with me, and I will take care of you.”
“What about passports? How can you even be sure that we can marry in Spain?”
“There’s no reason we can’t. And I have a passport—we’ll arrange for yours once we arrive.”
She didn’t know anything about international travel, but his plan sounded awfully havey-cavey. “If you’re wanted for murder here, surely no British consulate—”
“I promise you, it will all turn out well in the end.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Deuce take it, I love you,” he said, desperation in his tone. “Isn’t that enough?”
“No! You’re asking me to risk my entire future to go with you. To leave my family and my home, possibly never to see either again. So, no, it is not enough, drat you!”
He squeezed her hands. “Are you saying you don’t share my feelings?”
“You know I do.” Her heart lurched in her chest. “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth if I could, but I can’t right now.” Certainly not without some assurance that he truly meant to marry her and not just . . . well . . . carry her off to have his way with her.
Oh, Lord, that was absurd. Just because he was heir to an earl and she the daughter of an impoverished knight didn’t mean that Niall would stoop so low. Granted, she’d heard of women being fooled into thinking they were eloping when really they weren’t, women who were discarded after they’d served their usefulness to some randy lord.
But Niall would never do such a thing. He was an honorable man.
Except for the fact that he fought a duel he won’t tell me about.
She winced. It didn’t matter. He would never hurt her that way. She couldn’t believe it. And for a moment, the idea of being his forever, of traveling abroad and seeing the world without their families to make trouble—
Families. That brought reality crashing in. “You know I can’t leave Mama.” Regretfully, she tugged her hands from his. “She needs me.”
“I need you.” His lovely eyes were dark with entreaty. “Your mother has your father.”
“The man who spends every waking moment at his club or in the hells, gambling away my future and Mama’s,” she said bitterly. “She could die, and he wouldn’t even notice.”
All right, so that was an exaggeration, but not much of one. Papa had never met a card game he didn’t like. Unfortunately, he’d never met one he could win at, either. But he certainly spent all his time and money trying to find one.
And consequently, Mama spent much of her time alone with Brilliana or servants. Brilliana had hoped that when—if—Niall proposed marriage, she could persuade him to let her take Mama to live with them. But that was impossible if he meant to carry her off to the Continent.
“What about your family?”
He tensed. “What about them?”
“Do your parents know that you mean to flee London? Have you spoken to your father about . . . well . . . us?”
“He knows I’m leaving England. But no, he doesn’t know about us, because I wanted to speak to you first. In case you . . . refused to go.”
His reluctance to tell his parents about their courtship before approaching her parents had been a bone of contention between them.
She’d understood—really, she had. She probably wasn’t lofty enough to suit his family, and Niall had been waiting until she had her come-out and his parents could meet her in a natural setting. Then he could ease them into the idea of his wanting to wed her.
But now . . . “You could still speak to my parents, gain their blessing and agreement to the marriage. Then you . . . you could get a special license, and we could marry before we leave here.”
Though that didn’t solve the problem of Mama.
“There’s no time for that! Besides, it takes at least two days to acquire any kind of license. And my ship leaves tonight.” He drew her close. “For once in your life, sweeting, throw caution to the wind. You love me. I love you. We belong together. I don’t know how I’ll bear it if you don’t flee with me.”
His words tore at her. She wanted desperately to go.
And apparently he could read the hesitation in her face, for he took advantage, clasping her head in his hands so he could plunder her mouth with breathtaking thoroughness.
Oh, Lord, but the man could kiss. He made her heart soar, and her blood run fast and hot. Looping her arms about his neck, she gave herself up to the foretaste of what their lives could be like . . . if she would just give in.
But how could she? Reluctantly, she broke the kiss, even knowing it might be their last.
His eyes glittered with triumph, for he could always tell how easily he tempted her. “I know this isn’t the ideal way for us to start out, Bree, but I’ll make it up to you. Father will continue to send my allowance, and my friends will take care of us until we’re settled. I might even find work in Spain.”
She wavered. It sounded wonderful and exciting and oh, so tempting.
He cupped her cheek. “All we have to do is go. Tonight, with the tide. You and I, together for the rest of our lives. Trust me, you won’t re
gret going.”
Ah, but she would.
She could handle travel to a strange country and everything that such an upheaval entailed. She could live on a pittance. And yes, she would even risk ruin if it meant being with him.
But she couldn’t leave Mama. Papa would never manage the doctors or sit wiping Mama’s brow when she was feverish. Papa could hardly bear to be in the sickroom. He’d rather run off to his club. And with money short because of his gambling, they couldn’t afford a servant to tend mother night and day. Besides, she could never entrust Mama’s care to a servant.
She pushed away from him. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
© JESSI BLAKELY FOR TAMARA LACKEY PHOTOGRAPHY
SABRINA JEFFRIES is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than three dozen historical romances. Whatever time is not spent writing in a coffee-fueled haze is spent traveling with her husband and adult autistic son or indulging in one of her passions—jigsaw puzzles, chocolate, music, and costume parties. With more than eight million books in print in twenty different languages, the North Carolina author never regrets tossing aside a budding career in academics for the sheer joy of writing fun fiction and hopes that one day a book of hers will end up saving the world. She always dreams big.
Follow Sabrina Jeffries on Twitter, join her more than 23,000 fans on Facebook, and visit www.sabrinajeffries.com.
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ALSO BY SABRINA JEFFRIES
THE SINFUL SUITORS SERIES
The Study of Seduction
The Art of Sinning
“The Heiress and the Hothead” in What Happens Under the Mistletoe
THE DUKE’S MEN SERIES
If the Viscount Falls
How the Scoundrel Seduces
When the Rogue Returns
What the Duke Desires
THE HELLIONS OF HALSTEAD HALL SERIES
’Twas the Night After Christmas
A Lady Never Surrenders
To Wed a Wild Lord
How to Woo a Reluctant Lady
A Hellion in Her Bed
The Truth About Lord Stoneville
THE SCHOOL FOR HEIRESSES SERIES
Wed Him Before You Bed Him
Don’t Bargain with the Devil
Snowy Night with a Stranger (with Jane Feather and Julia London)
Let Sleeping Rogues Lie
Beware a Scot’s Revenge
The School for Heiresses (with Julia London, Liz Carlyle, and Renee Bernard)
Only a Duke Will Do
Never Seduce a Scoundrel
THE ROYAL BROTHERHOOD SERIES
One Night with a Prince
To Pleasure a Prince
In the Prince’s Bed
BY SABRINA JEFFRIES WRITING AS DEBORAH MARTIN
Silver Deceptions
By Love Unveiled
Stormswept
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Cover illustration by Alan Ayers
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ISBN 978-1-5011-4444-8
ISBN 978-1-5011-4445-5 (ebook)
The Danger of Desire Page 28
