Nicole Jordan - Desire

He fixed his gaze on her mouth, remembering the luscious taste of it, the innocence. “Somehow I think you are stretching the truth again.”

Her flush deepened. “Well, it is not stretching the truth to say I don’t wish to have you for my husband. I have no desire to wed a libertine.”

“I think you’ll find my reputation highly exaggerated.”

“You are a founding member of the Hellfire League, are you not? A band of noblemen notorious for their scandalous exploits.”

“I engaged in a few scandals in my reckless youth, I admit, but my exploits have been far tamer in recent years.”

“Forgive me if I find that hard to credit,” she said tartly.

“I can provide you with countless character references, if you wish,” Lucian answered, unable to stem his amusement.

“No doubt.”

Taking a measured breath, she regarded him with a frown, as if searching her mind for other arguments to use against him. “I understand that you make your home in London. I am not fond of London.”

“Have you even been there?”

“Twice. Although it was a number of years ago,” she added reluctantly, as if compelled to be strictly honest.

“Twice isn’t sufficient for a fair test.”

“Perhaps not, but I like living in the country.”

“My family seat is in Devonshire and is charmingly bucolic.”

“I prefer Cornwall, the sea…”

“I have a castle in Wales with a spectacular view of the sea.”

She pressed her lips together, as if striving for control, which merely made him want to shake it loose. He wanted to slide his hands around her waist and bury his mouth against hers, to explore her, to seek out all the enticing places where her silky, delicate heat flared and burned.

“Well, none of this is to the point,” Brynn said finally. “I cannot wed you because I cannot leave here. I will not abandon Theo.”

“But if he were to go away to school? Eton, Harrow, Westminster?”

There was a moment of prolonged silence. He could tell by the sudden tilt of her chin that he had struck a nerve.

“That is exceedingly underhanded of you,” she said at last, her frustration evident, “to offer such a bribe.”

“It is exceedingly common, as well as practical,” he contradicted gently. “Particularly for a lady in your circumstances. Marriage in exchange for a fortune and title.”

“I am not interested in either.”

“You cannot be happy living in genteel poverty.”

“I can, my lord. I am.”

“Your older brother, Grayson, apparently doesn’t share your view. He seemed highly interested at the prospect of a generous marriage settlement.”

Her eyes flashing with pride, she locked gazes with him. “You think you can purchase me, Lord Wycliff? As if I were a broodmare?”

“I had in mind a more honorable position than broodmare,” Lucian replied mildly. “That of wife and countess. Most ladies would be flattered by my proposal.”

“Then ask one of them.”

When he made no response, she took a deep breath. “I thank you for the honor you do me, my lord, but I will not marry you.”

Determined not to accept her refusal, Lucian moved toward her. For a moment she looked as if she might bolt, but she stood her ground, even when he took her hand. Yet she was clearly discomposed when he turned her palm over and raised it to his lips, placing a kiss on the sensitive skin of her wrist.

Lucian was gratified to feel her shiver.

“You will want more time to consider my proposal,” he murmured, deliberately holding her green gaze.

“I… I do not need more time. I have given you my answer.”

“I still have hopes of persuading you. I will call tomorrow, my sweet. Perhaps by then you will have had a change of heart.”

Brynn watched him walk away, torn between disbelief on the one hand, dismay on the other.

His supreme confidence vexed her. It vexed her more that she was so susceptible to his practiced touch. Wycliff was a rake, a man notorious for bending women to his whim. A devil whose sensuality was so potent it was almost a visible force.

She should be able to resist such blatant manipulation. Yet that hadn’t stopped the warmth that suffused her body the moment his lips touched her skin, or quelled the longing that had risen in her at the seductive look in his compelling blue eyes. He thought he could vanquish her with the rapier-sharp edge of his rakish charm. Oh, he was arrogant and infuriating…

And yet he could afford to be confident of victory. He held the upper hand and he knew it. If he truly meant to fund Theo’s schooling…

With a murmur of distress, Brynn sat down on the bench and pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. She was still in shock over his proposal.

She didn’t plan to marry. It simply wasn’t worth the risk. She had always known she was different, that her future was not her own. For as long as she could remember, she’d been warned of the danger of falling in love. Not danger to herself but to the man she cared for.

The women of your house will be forever cursed for their beauty. Any man they love will die.

She hadn’t wanted to believe in the curse, but there were simply too many macabre incidents over too many generations to doubt its validity.

Her mother had suffered its terrible power. Gwendolyn Caldwell had lost her first betrothed to a bizarre accident-a bolt of lightning on a nearly cloudless day. Vowing never to love again, she subsequently married Brynn’s father, bore him six children, and died in childbirth, leaving her twelve-year-old daughter to raise the baby.

Brynn had clearly inherited her ancestor’s flame-haired beauty and, apparently, the same legendary allure. But after her mother died, she had disregarded the warnings and developed a girlish infatuation for the first young gentleman to seriously court her. When he’d drowned at sea, she had finally learned to accept her fate.

Afterward she’d gone to great lengths to avoid attracting men. Taming her vivid tresses. Dressing modestly-even primly. Hiding her dangerous allure. Remaining at home, out of the public eye, living an almost reclusive existence. Embracing being shunned. She’d encouraged belief in the curse and her reputation as a danger because it kept potential suitors at bay.

She didn’t want suitors. Didn’t want gentlemen she scarcely knew losing their heads over her, declaring their undying affection. She could never reciprocate their feelings. She didn’t dare accept their suit, for fear of what might happen. It was better not to risk the tragic consequences.

If there were times when she regretted her bleak future, when she felt achingly lonely at facing the prospect of a loveless existence, well then, she had only to recall her own tragedy to be reminded of the stakes. She could never fall in love. Never.

In any event, she was quite happy with her life, Brynn told herself frequently. She had no time for loneliness, no room for such vulnerability. No patience for suffering the dazed, spellbound beaus who pursued her. All her efforts were directed toward tutoring her youngest brother and helping her oldest brother save their family from dire penury-by smuggling and marketing contraband.

Brynn took a deep breath. Fortunately she had stopped herself from divulging her involvement in the Free Trade to Wycliff. She couldn’t expose their illicit activities to an outsider who might not understand, a powerful noble who could make trouble for them.

The immediate trouble now, however, was how to deal with her latest unwanted suitor.

Brynn shivered, remembering the heated look in the earl’s eyes. He claimed to want her for his wife. And underneath that irresistible, sophisticated charm, she sensed a determination that was deadly serious-and possibly deadly as well.

Just this morning she had dreamed of Wycliff, of his death. Even if she wanted to accept his proposal of marriage, she couldn’t simply ignore her dark premonition, could she?

Brynn couldn’t simply ignore Lord Wycliff’s proposal either, for Gray questioned her about it that evening after dinner. Theo, as usual, had escaped to his dungeon directly following the sweets, leaving his older brother and sister alone in the smaller dining room close to the kitchen, where they took their meals these days to save work for their few servants.

Brynn could see Gray eyeing her speculatively, as if preparing his thoughts for a discussion beyond the polite small talk that had pervaded dinner. Fearing the subject matter, she sipped her wine and waited. Silence reigned.

Meals were much quieter now without their three other brothers at home. Arthur and Stephen, two years and three younger than Brynn respectively, had joined the Royal Navy shortly before their father perished and their finances plunged so drastically. And last year eighteen-year-old Reese had set out to make his fortune in the merchant marine.

Thus far, of all the brothers, Reese had suffered the most from their father’s disastrous investments. There had been no money for him to purchase a naval commission or even attend university, as the older boys had done. Not that that dismayed Reese, however, since he was the least studious of all the brothers. But Theo would be devastated to be denied the opportunity-

“Brynn?”

She gave a start at having her distracted thoughts interrupted.

Gray smiled faintly. “It is not like you to be woolgathering so deeply that you fail even to hear me.”

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked you twice what answer you gave Wycliff.”