She nodded quickly. Finally, a question she knew how to answer. “Of course. Our mutual honesty is imperative if we are to make this arrangement a success.”
His lips twitched upward in that rueful smile once more. “In that case, you ought to know the truth. I was jealous, plain and simple.”
She blinked rapidly, as if that might help her to process this bit of information. “Jealous of whom?” A laugh escaped her that sounded sad even to her own ears. “There is no one to be jealous of.”
He shrugged as if that were beside the point. “I hate the thought of my wife—my future wife—in anyone else’s arms.”
Her breath hitched as her belly did somersaults. Goodness. The ferocity in his gaze made her heart beat furiously in response. But her mind cleaved onto his words. Disappointment swept through her as she realized what he was truly saying. “You mean because your wife is supposed to be your possession,” she said, bitterness filling her voice and making her mouth taste like acid.
It didn’t sound right coming out of her mouth. It did not seem like something Jed would think, let alone admit. It was her father who’d treated her like chattel, not this man, who’d been nothing but gracious even when she might not deserve his kindness.
No matter how deserved her anger may have been two years ago, the truth now was glaringly clear. He did not deserve her disdain, and he certainly bore no resemblance to her father and his friends.
Belatedly she thought of the way Jed was with his sisters. So caring, so thoughtful, and so very respectful. She felt a sharp pang of regret for her harsh words, but her shame was drowned out by shock when she met his gaze.
Anger flashed in his eyes—an emotion so rarely seen in this man that even that brief flash made her jerk back in surprise.
“Is that what you think?” he said. “That I want to possess you?”
She watched in fascination as his emotions flickered across his eyes. He seemed to be at war within himself. Finally, he gave her a small smile. That slight twist of his lips held a world of seduction. Her breath left her in a gasp as he closed the distance between them. “Well,” he said slowly as one hand reached out to cup her cheek. “Perhaps you are not entirely wrong.”
Chapter Six
It nearly killed him, but Jed gave her a moment to pull away. If she were to resist, he would let her go, no matter how much his body begged him to pull her close.
But she didn’t protest and she made no move to back away. Instead, her eyes grew cloudy with lust as she tipped her head back slightly, her lips parting.
For him.
That possessiveness she’d accused him of reared up with brutal force, as if to make a fool of him for wanting to deny it. He hated what she meant by it, but she wasn’t wrong. Not entirely. Whether it made sense or not, he wanted her.
All of her.
And he wanted her all for himself.
With that thought he finally caved to his body’s demand, lowering his head so he could capture her mouth and tease her lips with his tongue.
Her soft gasp made him hard in an instant, and a little part of him was keenly aware of the fact that they were alone in his bedroom, the marriage ceremony so close at hand as to be a foregone conclusion.
Despite his body’s urging, he did his best to keep the kiss proper—well, as proper as a kiss with a still-unmarried lady could be. He didn’t want to scare her away. He wanted to…what? Taste her. Perhaps show her how beautiful she was in his eyes, how sorry he was that he’d never noticed before.
He tried to say all that with a gentle kiss. One that would honor a woman who was clearly inexperienced yet worldly, so unskilled in the artful ways of society yet so very intelligent.
But then…oh bloody hell, then she kissed him back.
Any control he’d thought he had was driven away with a tentative flicker of her tongue. She lapped at his lower lip and he groaned as the walls between them crumbled to oblivion. Wrapping his arms around her waist he pulled her close, forgetting about her innocence as he pressed the length of her to him, clutching her tight as though she were his lifeline.
Her arms twined around his neck as she leaned into him, her luscious curves molding to him so sweetly he could weep from the beauty of it. The beauty of her. Like a drowning man, he clutched her close, his hands sweeping over her, trying to memorize the feel of her hips, her buttocks, her waist through the thin material of her simple gown.
She made a little moaning noise in the back of her throat that added fuel to the flames. He wanted to hear her shriek his name. He needed to have her naked in his arms, whimpering and begging for release.
Oh yes, he wanted to own her. To possess her. To claim her as a man claimed his wife.
But the shocking truth hit him squarely between the eyes as he pulled back gently, the sound of their labored breathing filling the air between them.
He wanted her desperately. But he wanted her to want him in return. And not just with lust, not just with desire.
He wanted her to claim him as well. To possess him and own him in return.
He wanted more than a marriage in name only, and he ached for more than one night in her bed.
So what did he want? He asked himself that question as he met her dark gaze and saw the honorable, moral, upright woman who protected her sister and stood her ground. The woman who teased with such subtlety and who spoke about literature with an insightfulness that belied her sheltered life. The woman who’d stood on the sidelines as silly twits and simpering debutantes claimed the attention of every man too blind to see the hidden beauty in their midst.
He’d been a fool for too many years, but now the truth was apparent. He’d finally seen her, the exquisitely strong, honorable, beautiful lady who’d been right in front of him all this time.
The answer was so simple.
He wanted her.
The thought might be simple but it was alarming enough to give him pause. His hands stilled and he tensed beneath her eager touch. Hell and damnation, now was not the time to be getting sentimental over his wife. Or rather, his soon-to-be wife.
He shoved the thought to the side and focused once more on the feel of her in his arms. Lord knew how long he’d have, he ought to be savoring every second.
But it seemed his short pause was enough. Now she was the one to still in his arms, far more dramatically and abruptly and no doubt in response to his sudden awkwardness. Her stillness was followed by her stilted but determined attempts to push away from him.
In a heartbeat she was gone, out of his arms and standing rigidly before him. He was cold where her softness had been and his body screamed with wanting. The urge to pull her back was so strong he had to clench his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out to her.
But God in heaven, she looked beautiful. Her lips were swollen, her eyes dazed and heavy-lidded. That dark hair was mussed, with some tendrils escaping her harsh chignon to fall around her face.
Oh to be the man who saw her with her hair down, with her head thrown back, with her eyes lit with passion and her features softened by love.
The man who witnessed that vision…he swallowed down an ache that threatened to choke him. That would be a lucky man indeed. A man far luckier than he.
“We should not—” she started. “That is, we ought to be, er…”
“We ought to head to dinner,” he finished for her.
She nodded quickly, looking everywhere but at him. “Yes, dinner. We need to eat.”
Was she disappointed? He watched her toy with her food across the table from him as the only other table full of diners scraped their chairs back and rose to leave.
Surely she’d been so eager to head to the dining room because she’d hoped for the safety of a public area. Somewhere less intimate than his bedroom where they could once again go back to being…whatever it was they were.
Friends? He’d like to think so, but he suspected not. Not in her eyes, at least.
Traveling companions, then.
&n
bsp; The small group left and here they were alone again. She glanced up at him warily.
Did she have any idea how beautiful she looked when her hair was mussed?
She glanced back down at her plate just as quickly.
Did she have any idea that her hair was mussed?
He sipped at the ale the innkeeper had provided but he could not bring himself to eat. It was difficult to focus on food when one’s world had a nasty habit of flipping upside down, which it was wont to do whenever this woman was around.
“Are you ever going to speak to me?” he asked suddenly.
She stilled with her attempt to pretend to eat but she didn’t look up. Her low voice was familiar but distant. “You had no right—”
“I know.”
“That sort of thing was not part of our—”
“I know.”
She finally looked up then, her lips pursed with annoyance at being interrupted.
He gave a shrug that accurately reflected his own confusion. “We men are beastly. That is my only excuse.”
She arched her brows. “That is not much of an excuse. Many men go about their everyday lives without behaving like rogues.”
He flinched at the judgement in her voice. So self-righteous, and rightfully so. “Perhaps you’re right. I thought you knew that about me…that I am apt to succumb to temptation.”
A flush swept up her cheeks instantly. “Yes, well…” She cleared her throat and studied her food with far more interest than a basic stew warranted. “I suppose I was not without fault.”
Her voice sounded stilted and he couldn’t help but grin. The great and might Eliza Beaucraft admitting her culpability? Guilt and confusion were written clearly in her expression as she scowled down at the stew.
“Nonsense,” he said, letting her off the hook. “There is no reason for us both to be condemned for one foolish act.” When she looked up he gave her a rakish wink that did nothing to ease her flush. “We both know who the rake is here.”
One side of her mouth hitched up tremulously as though she wasn’t quite sure if she should be amused by his teasing. Then her eyes grew serious. Intent even. “I have heard that you reformed your rakish ways, that you no longer gamble at all.” She fidgeted with her skirts.
He sat back too quickly, his back hitting the chair with too much force. But really, that was an unexpected turn in the conversation. “You have heard this from your sources, I presume?”
She nodded, her gaze flitting away from his for a moment at the reminder of that confrontation. She licked her lips before meeting his stare once more. “I know you no longer frequent your old haunts, but how long exactly has it been since you’ve last gambled?”
Irritation flared up in him, though he knew he had no right to be annoyed. “Aside from this gamble, you mean?”
She flinched a bit, though he hadn’t meant it to come out so harshly. “Yes, aside from our arrangement.”
He tapped his fingers against the table. “Two years. It has been two years since I’ve made a wager.”
Their eyes met and he knew she too was thinking about the encounter two years ago. That morning marked the last time he’d ever put himself at the mercy of chance. He’d made a clean break from that lifestyle and once out of that world, he’d found himself blessedly free from temptation.
Until Eliza had come back into his life. Temptation personified. Not just with the money, but with the freedom she offered. And now…
She still met his gaze steadily.
And now he could add Eliza herself to the list of temptations she presented. Everything about her seemed to beckon him to renounce his newly reformed gentlemanly ways and give in to the rogue beneath. The one who whispered that she would be his wife soon enough, surely seduction would not be such a great sin.
Surely it was that inner rogue that begged him to change this arrangement. It pleaded with him to ask Eliza for a chance he did not deserve.
It was a ridiculous voice and one that he guessed was linked directly to his libido. It had been two long years since he’d experienced anything like that sort of physical intimacy as he’d given up his rakish ways along with the cards and the gambling.
But even as he told himself that, an aching in his chest begged to differ. That ache had nothing to do with his nether regions and it called him out as a coward and a liar for even attempting to ignore it.
Still, he ignored it, focusing instead on her response to his admission, or rather, the lack thereof. She was staring at him passively and for the life of him he could not make out her thoughts.
“Do you believe me?” The words surprised him as much as her. But she hadn’t reacted, not really. And it seemed desperately important that she believe him. That she trust him.
She gave a small nod. “Yes. I believe you.”
Something tense inside him eased.
She toyed with her food some more and by the way her brow was furrowed he suspected she was battling her own inner demons just as he did. When she looked up, her expression was resolute. “I only asked about your gambling habit because if we succeed in convincing my father, you will soon have a fortune again, and—”
“And you want to ensure that I will not carelessly toss it away,” he finished. His tone held none of the bitterness he felt. She was only being smart, as was to be expected.
She held his gaze for a long moment before setting down her spoon. “Have you truly changed?”
The question shocked him more than it ought. It was what they were discussing, really. That was the crux of it. Had he changed? He shifted in his seat. “I did not suddenly change my personality overnight, if that is what you are asking. I still experience temptation and sometimes I even act on it.”
His mind was on the kiss just moments ago and he suspected her thoughts followed his by the flush staining her cheeks.
He cleared his throat. “But I am trying.”
She blinked in surprise, most likely at the intensity in his voice, which he could not hide. He needed her to know that. It was vital that she believed it.
“I believe you,” she said softly.
He fell back in his seat, the relief he experienced entirely out of proportion to the moment. She might as well have thrown him a rope while he was drowning at sea by the way he was reveling in that feeling of salvation.
She shifted slightly. “My opinion of you is not set in stone. It occurs to me that perhaps you are not the same man you were when last I saw you.”
When last I saw you. What a lovely way to refer to that blasted morning. He gave a short nod, his throat too tight to speak. Her words were not quite forgiving but he had the sense it was as close to redemption as he might come.
Gratitude battled with something bittersweet that he’d been learning to live with. A mix of guilt, shame, and hope for the future. It was the strange brew that fueled his desire to be a better man.
She looked distinctly uncomfortable as she glanced back down at her meal, though she made no move to resume eating.
“Have you changed?” His words were soft but she jerked as though he’d just shouted at her.
The surprise in her eyes when she lifted her head was startling. He wondered if it was the fact that he’d asked the question that so shocked her or her answer. Her smile was rueful. “Yes, I suppose I have.”
He thought she wouldn’t elaborate, but she leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. “I am definitely not the youthful, naïve girl you once knew.”
He arched his brows in surprise, his memory calling up images of a quiet, serious girl who watched everyone from the sidelines. “I don’t know that I ever thought of you as naïve.”
She let out a short laugh, low and husky. So different from the lighthearted giggles of her sister, but surprisingly feminine and seductive in its own way. He found himself hoping to make her laugh again and in the very near future.
“No, perhaps I was not all that naïve,” she said. “Women like me often aren’t.”
“Like you?”
She waved a hand dismissively. “I did not go into my first season expecting to be the belle of the ball like Mary. I knew better than to expect gentlemen to be swooning at my feet.” There was no doubting the ruefulness in her smile now. “I’d always known my best attribute was my dowry, and even that, it turned out, was not enough to make me appealing.”
Horror, plain and simple, had him staring at her with wide eyes.
She wrinkled her nose and lifted her glass of sherry. “Oh, please don’t look at me like that. I hardly meant that to sound so pitiful.”
He believed her. Her tone was far too flat, her demeanor calm as though she was uttering simple, undeniable facts.
He wanted to argue with her, tell her she was wrong. But he had a feeling that would not go over well. On top of that, it would be a lie. He remembered those days, when they were both young and just entering society.
He remembered the way he and his friends had dismissed her from the very beginning. She had not been a singular beauty and, worse than that, she’d had none of the charm or the bright laughter that had made all the other girls so appealing and, he had to admit, so very satisfying for the male ego.
But perhaps if he’d gotten to know her, if he’d struck up a conversation or listened to her laugh. Perhaps if he’d kissed her and seen the warmth that lay beneath the cold façade…
He leaned across the table, making sure to hold her gaze so she could see his sincerity. “We were fools, the lot of us.”
She widened her eyes but then she let out a short laugh that had them both smiling. For one beautiful moment, time seemed to stop and the silence between them was filled with something sweet.
An understanding.
For the first time in forever he felt the shared history between them as a blessing rather than a curse.
She broke the moment first, leaning back to put some distance between them and looked down at her hands in her lap. “I am also not as angry as I once was.” She looked up, her gaze filled with meaning.
He gave a short nod, gratitude choking him all over again. She was giving him a chance. A second chance. Or perhaps this was his third or fourth chance in her eyes. Lord knew how many times he’d come up short in her books. But that was history, a history they were putting to bed with this conversation, he hoped. “I am trying,” he said again.
A Gentleman's Gamble (Devilish Lords Book 3) Page 9
