by Shayla Black
Still, images of Kira dominated his thoughts—the first day he’d met her as she stood in the dusty lane before Norfield, again at Lady Westland’s party, where she’d sobbed as if her heart were breaking, then last night in his bed, when she’d gasped and dug her nails into his shoulders, hovering on the brink of climax.
He just couldn’t get the woman out of his head, couldn’t replace her image with Cordelia’s. He wondered if he ever would.
It didn’t matter. Marrying well—marrying Cordelia—was his duty. He owed his family a duchess without scandal, without mixed blood, without the ability to drive him to the edge of sanity. Cordelia fit that description. Wedding her would amply discharge his obligation. And a duty, by definition, was not necessarily something in which one found pleasure; it was something one did because one must.
And Gavin always did his duty.
Despite that fact, his future yawned before him like a bleak, endless chasm. Life without Kira would be like life without laughter or sunlight or color. Without breath.
Yet somehow, do without he would.
Chapter Eighteen
Kira avoided the library. It only reminded her of the night she realized she loved Gavin—and gave him her heart and body. She avoided the dining room because Gavin himself would likely arrive for dinner soon. Unfortunately, she had to avoid the garden as well because rain and dusk had begun to fall moments ago. And she did not want to return to her bedroom, where she’d spent most of the day foolishly crying for a man who did not love her.
Darius had returned from Cornwall that morning. She had spoken with him long enough to inform him that she would no longer be marrying James. When he had demanded to know why, she’d pleaded a headache and taken refuge in her room.
Now, she could not tolerate the confinement a moment more, though she had nowhere to go that would provide any peace.
After wandering for a few minutes, she chose the formal parlor and strode inside. Mrs. Howland had no plans to receive exalted guests that Kira knew. Here, she could be alone at least.
Yet once she found her way inside, Kira was not at all certain she wanted to be in the room. The red walls towered to tall ceilings, making her feel small and inconsequential. Elaborate moldings of a Grecian theme linked by a series of urns and ivy with bows hung just below the ceiling. Even the chimneypiece was carved in a similar fashion so that a toga-draped lady on each side of the fireplace held trays of exotic food and appeared to carry the mantle itself upon their heads. Such extravagance only served to remind her of the differences between she and Gavin. Kira and Darius lived comfortably, of course, but neither of them would conceive of spending the kind of money required to display such art as a household item. Gavin likely thought nothing of it.
What would she have done as a duchess anyway?
Kira swallowed back fresh tears. She hadn’t wanted to be a duchess, blast it all. She had simply wanted to be Gavin’s wife. Never had she felt so whole, so certain she belonged, than she had with him. She wanted to have his heart. Now she had neither him nor James—nor any certain future on the horizon.
The decisive click of booted footsteps in the hall alerted her to the fact she was about to have company. Before she could escape, Kira whirled to watch the thick white door open. She was still watching, eyes wide, when Gavin strode inside, damp as if he’d been out in the rain.
With long fingers, he slicked back his hair. He’d had it cut today again. It was too short for the angles of his face, and it made him look harsh and dangerous, not at all like the passionate and warm man she knew he could be, when he chose.
But his haircut was none of her concern. He’d made that abundantly clear last night.
She curtsied to him. “Do you require this room, your grace? I shall be happy to lea—”
“Kira, please. You need not call me anything other than Gavin. And I came here to speak with you, so I’m asking you to stay.”
Asking? That was somewhat new for him. He certainly had not asked her anything else pertinent.
Sighing, she nodded, doing her best to look disinterested. Not for anything would she show him that his inability to put their love above his good name was killing her.
“What do you wish to speak to me about?” she asked finally.
He made his way toward her, wet boots squeaking. With every step, he left a trail upon the sparkling floor. He never noticed. Was that like a man? Or just like a duke?
Gavin stopped before her—much too close, in her estimation. If he had no intent to wed her, he certainly didn’t need to stand so close that he could kiss her just by leaning in. When she tried to back up a step, he grabbed her wrist.
“I have news.” He closed his dark eyes for a moment and sighed, face taut.
Kira could already see that his news wasn’t of the good variety. And suddenly she did not want to hear it. In fact, she had the oddest feeling she was going to hate whatever he wished to tell her.
“Nothing you say can interest me.”
He only gripped her tighter. “I wanted to tell you first, before you heard it from someone else.”
“Perhaps you’ve gone deaf? I’m not interested.”
“Damnation, I’m trying to put this gently.”
“Don’t say it at all. That should save you the trouble.”
Gavin sighed, the sound full of exasperation. “Tuesday next, I will marry Lady Litchfield.”
“What?” Of all the things she imagined, this one took Kira most by surprise. Incredulity swept through her like a lance, stabbing her through the heart.
“Yes, here. By special license. I—I felt I owed you the courtesy—”
“Courtesy?” She sent him a cutting laugh. “It’s so polite to destroy a woman’s life and make her unmarriageable for another, then climb from her bed to propose to someone else. You did not even wait a full day before asking her, did you?”
“Kira, I’d planned to wed her for years. Now seemed the right time—”
“So you might avoid marrying me?” She arched a black brow at him.
Gavin cursed in response. “This is my family obligation, and I must meet it.”
“Who cares if you’re betraying your own heart or breaking mine. You’ll find solace in duty and that must count for something.”
“Must you be sarcastic?”
“Did you expect me to pat you on the back and wish you well?” She scowled at him, stunned.
“No. I merely hoped you would understand.”
He sounded tired and looked dejected. Kira tried to steel her heart against the insane urge to take him in her arms and comfort him. No, no, no! He would only use her weakness to exploit her again.
“I do not! I don’t understand how a supposedly upstanding man can continue to treat me as if I have no feelings and no honor. I’ve given you everything I have to offer. And you have done nothing but trample upon me.”
To Kira’s horror, she felt the tears start again, hot and stinging in her swollen eyes. She likely looked a fright, with red-rimmed eyes and a swollen, pink bunny nose. But she didn’t care.
“I realize that. I never meant—”
“You did not stop to think about my feelings or my heart or whether taking me to your bed and allowing me to hope that you cared would hurt me. You simply did it. And I won’t stay for any more of it. Since my brother is now arrived from Cornwall, we will retire this afternoon to our own town house.”
“Do not run away. Your brother told James he planned to move your things to your residence tomorrow.”
She shrugged. “He may wait, if he wishes. I will not. I shall go by myself.”
Before he could stop himself, Gavin scrambled for a reason to keep her here. “And stay the night there alone? It may not be safe. And—and what will people think?”
“Since my reputation is beyond repair in your estimation, I hardly give a damn.”
With that, she turned to walk away.
* * * *
Gavin watched Kira retreat, her foots
teps nearly silent on the carpet, her narrow shoulders looking decidedly tense in a blue muslin dress. She thought to leave so suddenly? Now?
He should let her go. He should. Lord knew he owed her some peace. But he could not tolerate the thought of her leaving while she hated him.
And once she left, he would have no reason to see her. They did not move in the same circles. She might even return to Suffolk, a place he had no excuse to journey to. She might marry another someday. Probably would, in fact. And since he could not marry her himself, he should hope she found another with whom she could be content.
But he didn’t hope that at all. It was wretched and selfish, but suddenly he could not seem to stop the sentiment from roiling inside him.
Her stride reached the edge of the patterned, jewel-toned rug, and she stepped onto the tile, her shoes making a delicate click with each step. Then she lifted a hand toward the latch on the door.
Pain clawed at his chest. Gavin struggled to draw in a calming breath. But damn, he could not be calm about the prospect of never seeing Kira again.
She inched the door open.
He might hate the way she brought forth the lust he could scarcely control, but an hour with her was like an hour filled with colors and stars. Everything around her was more vivid, sharper, sweeter. He felt something besides duty and familial loyalty. With Kira, he felt a thousand things.
When she left, all of that would be gone.
As would the threat she held on his sanity. With Kira departed, perhaps the taint of the Daggett blood would recede so he might know the peace he had before she crashed into his life. If she left, he likely would never have to wonder if the libertine in him would overtake him forever.
Still, he could not imagine a life with her completely absent from it.
In a half-dozen strides, he crossed the room. He reached above Kira’s head, took the solid door in his hand and pushed it closed before she could exit.
She stiffened and raised her chin, but did not turn to face him.
“Kira, don’t go.” His voice sounded hoarse, almost unrecognizable. He did not care.
“Why should I stay when you can offer me nothing?”
He frowned, his thoughts racing. He could offer her something besides marriage. And in doing so, he could experience the joy of holding her while limiting his exposure to her. Yes. Perhaps it would prevent his bad blood from forming into an unruly beast, ready to seize control of him.
“I can offer you something.” He took her shoulders in his hands and spun her about.
She had been crying; he saw that now. His heart lurched. He could care for her. He could fill her life with caring.
“Stay with me. I may marry Cordelia for duty’s sake, but it’s you I want. I will give you money and houses. I’ll shower you in trinkets. Perhaps we’ll have children someday—”
“You’re asking me to be your mistress?” The fury on Kira’s face told him she was not pleased by his offer.
“Don’t say no. There will be a great many advantages… I—I can protect you and care for you, give you anything you want.”
“Bastard!” Kira slapped him soundly across the face. “You think nothing of treating me like a whore. If you imagine I will allow that for the rest of my life, you are mistaken.”
Suddenly, the indignation left her and she sobbed. Gavin’s heart caught at the pain in her blue, blue eyes.
“Kira—” He reached for her.
She jerked away. “How could you? Your proposition dishonors not only me but the feelings I thought we shared.” She bit her lip and struggled to right her expression. “Apparently, I was wrong.”
No, she wasn’t, but his caring changed nothing.
She was going to leave; Gavin knew it. He’d given her his best offer. Why couldn’t she bloody stay?
His mind raced. Alternatives flew, one past the other in a rush until he latched onto one: the truth. Perhaps if he told her the truth—all of it—she might understand and stay.
“Damn it, Kira. I cannot marry you because I—”
The truth was harder to say than he had imagined. It was a weakness he could scarcely accept. The power of his attraction to her alarmed him. A man of his age, rank, and moral character should not possess such a failing.
But each time Gavin came near Kira, he only knew he wanted her—more even than the time before. Her smile, her touch, her affection, her passion.
“Yes, because I’m a half-breed whore. I know.”
“No! I am at fault.” He slapped his palm to his chest. “I cannot— You come into a room and I…ignite.” He swallowed, trying desperately to read her face. “When we are apart, I yearn for you, Kira. When I am with you, I want nothing more than to touch you, be near you. I am ensorcelled beyond all common decency. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
She shook her head, but he took heart that confusion now diffused the anger that had tightened her face.
“I am a man who prides himself on control. Yet with you, I seem to have none. And that makes me…” He paused, cursed, then forced himself to look her in the eyes again. “That makes me far more like my father than I ever imagined.”
“Your father?”
Gavin nodded. “A voluptuary of the worst kind. He had no morals, no decency. He always told me that when the lust seized him, no matter the time, place, or partner, he was compelled to succumb. I feel that way when I’m with you—every time. It’s as if I must drink every inch of you in, every chance I get.”
Kira frowned, a flush coloring her cheeks, and Gavin wished to hell he knew what she was thinking.
“If we married, our joining would not be inappropriate.”
He sighed. This was the part he most dreaded telling her. “If my wants remained confined to merely you, yes. But I fear you are but the beginning of the problem. Eventually I will follow in my father’s footsteps and…crave other, more inappropriate lovers. And I cannot afford to create the kind of scandal—”
“More inappropriate?”
Gavin drew in a deep breath. She had not heard the worst of his father’s antics, clearly. Surprising; he’d been sure most everyone had. But of course, she had scarcely been born when his father disgraced the Daggett name.
“Shortly after my tenth birthday, a member of the House of Commons and a noted evangelist took a stroll from the houses of Parliament to nearby St. James Park one evening. There he discovered my father with two common prostitutes.”
She gasped. “They were… in public?”
He looked up to the ceiling, shame burning him as he struggled for the words to explain. “Yes. And one of the nightwalkers was… not a woman.”
Kira gasped. “You mean to say—”
“All three of them were… intimately entwined together.”
No need to tell her his father had been begging the prostitutes to whip him. No need to mention his father had been fondling the one man while the woman had taken his father in her mouth. The descriptions—things he’d overheard, things his father had told him afterward—were burned in his brain forever. He’d never wanted such activity, never found it remotely arousing. But he feared he could not account for the future.
“And you think you’re like him?”
“The first time I touched you, I could not stop. I never once considered that I should. Not until it was far too late. The second time, I knew I should not take you, but I did. I wanted you so badly. I simply disregarded everything I knew to be good and moral. And the last time—”
“You tried to say no to me,” she pointed out.
He shook his head. Didn’t she see? “It was scarcely more than a token protest. It’s you I want, deeply, madly—for now. But if I’m truly like my father, I’ll…move on. I’ll create scandal, dragging Aunt Caroline, James, my sisters, and you through the entire mess.”
He sighed, willing her to understand. “When I’m not with you, the urge doesn’t…plague me.”
Puzzlement shone in her eyes. “Do you, even now,
want…”
“Oh, yes. You have no idea how badly.”
“But you are restraining yourself,” she pointed out.
“Barely, and only by reminding myself how badly I don’t want to be like my father.”
“Why do you assume the need is lust, not love? Maybe—”
“I cannot afford to be naïve. Neither can you.”
Kira frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Have you yet experienced this…urge with anyone else?”
“No,” he admitted. “But the way my father described it, it’s like a disease. It will progress into something terrible.”
She paused, her contemplative expression telling him that she at least considered his words. Finally, she tapped her foot and glared at him. “It’s ridiculous! I know you. You would never lower yourself to the kind of behavior your father did, cavorting with streetwalkers in the park and—”
“I also never thought I would lower myself to bed my cousin’s bride.” He sighed. “Marriage simply won’t work. Eventually, you would hate me, and probably only half as much as I would hate myself. I cannot put you through that pain.”
“And Lady Litchfield inspires none of these dangerous urges?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Ah, so she is safe to wed.”
“Exactly.”
“Because she is not half Persian.”
“No, because she isn’t you.”
Kira hesitated, her gaze tangled with his own. “This is insanity. You don’t fear lust—you fear love. And I will not stay if you cannot love me. I hope you and the dowager have a lovely, dull life together.”
Again, Kira turned away and reached for the door. She would leave, never come back.
And still he couldn’t let her go.
Before Kira opened the door, Gavin grasped her arm and turned her to face him. She looked furious and hurt, and he wanted to take it all away. Leaving would not heal her; she had to know that. And if she cared for him as she claimed, how could she simply leave him forever?
