A Lady’s Luck: Devilish Lords #4

by Maggie Dallen

  Mary’s quiet laughter had Henri shooting her a questioning look. “Don’t you see?” Mary said, not even trying to hide her amusement. “He’s daring you to marry him.”

  She frowned at her friend. “Why on earth would he do that?”

  Mary arched her brows. “Perhaps because he desperately wants to marry you.”

  There was that stab of pain, even though she let out a huff of laughter. “The only thing that man is desperate for is some assurance that I will not ruin his life.” She tapped her fingers against the tabletop as she considered his actions, and more, how she would reciprocate.

  “Has anyone placed a bet against him?” she asked her brother.

  He shook his head. “Of course not. Who would bet against the groom in question if he says it will never happen?”

  She caught Mary staring at her with arched brows and her young, surprisingly astute friend said what she’d been thinking. “Who indeed?” Henri swallowed down a fluttery emotion that made her head spin. Now was not the time to be foolish. He was being fool enough for the both of them.

  Enough was enough. She scooted her chair back from the table and Mary scurried to do the same. “Are you going to talk with him?”

  She pressed her lips together and let out a harrumph sound. It was what he wanted, of that she was sure, and oh, how she hated to give him what he wanted. However, this nonsense had to be stopped, and she deserved an explanation for why on earth he was making her a laughingstock of the ton. If it was assurance he wanted, she would find a way to convince him he could trust her not to speak. And if it was more? She shook off the thought. Alistair did not want more from her. It didn’t bear thinking about.

  She convinced Rodrick to come along to Alistair’s home under the guise of a chaperone, but promised him he could nap in the foyer while he waited for her to conduct her business. She tried to keep her mind blank as she waited, but it was impossible. Her body betrayed her, twitching and flinching at every sound. When Alistair finally entered, she shot up out of her seat to confront him.

  “How dare you,” she said.

  He ignored her as he gestured over her shoulder to the foyer through which he’d come. “I assume that sleeping imbecile on my couch out there is your chaperone?” His smile was slow and pleasant. Dangerous. On Alistair, a pleasant smile meant danger. It meant he wanted something and had gotten it.

  She bristled, unsettled because she’d come at all. She’d given him the satisfaction of a response…but really, he’d left her with no other choice. She could not let this bet go on and it was time to be done with this man once and for all. This wasn’t a game anymore, not for her. At some point it had shifted, and she still couldn’t say when. All she knew was she wasn’t having fun anymore. Inexplicably and against all odds, she’d gotten hurt, and it would get worse the longer this went on. Her heart was already injured, but she could keep it from being shattered.

  He took a few steps toward her, but paused when she backed up a step. He folded his arms across his chest and his expression filled with amusement as he chastened her. “You really ought to bring better protection when you walk into the lion’s den.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “I don’t need protection from you.”

  He arched his brows and smiled. “Ah, so you have come to your senses then.”

  She frowned, resisting the urge to glance around her as though the settee might be able to explain exactly what was happening here. For a woman who was typically three steps ahead, she had the distinctly disturbing notion she had been left in the dust. “What were you about? Placing a bet on my marriage prospects?”

  He matched her frown, but his eyes danced with laughter. “Why, Henri, I would never bet on your marriage prospects with anyone.” He leaned forward slightly as though letting her in on a secret. “You know I don’t gamble.”

  Her head was spinning out of control now. He was confusing her, not only with his lie, but with his attitude. She’d seen this side of him before, or rather, she’d seen glimpses of this man, but only after she’d worn away his stern façade. It had been after she’d finagled her way past his defenses. But now, he was standing there teasing her, perhaps even mocking himself.

  “Please, have a seat,” he said, pointing toward a chair.

  She gave her head a little shake and focused on his words. “You don’t gamble,” she said stiffly. “Especially not on something so ludicrous as—”

  “I don’t see it as gambling if I already know the outcome.”

  “But…” She stopped and drew in a deep breath as he sank into the seat across from her, seemingly at ease despite the topic at hand.

  “Let me explain,” he said with a gentle smile. Leaning forward he clasped his hands together. “I needed to get your attention.”

  She growled low in her throat. “You got it.”

  His smile was bright and youthful, and it nearly knocked her sideways. Lord but he was an attractive man when he wasn’t scowling all the time. Oh, who was she trying to fool? He was a handsome man no matter what his expression.

  “What are you about?” She hated the question in her voice, the wavering quality that made her sound weak. She cleared her throat and frowned up at him. “What are you playing at?”

  He sank onto the seat beside her and reached for her hand, his expression softening to something she hardly recognized. She’d caught glimpses of this man in the carriage but here, now, he dropped all the pretenses and sat before her—exposed and raw, with a wide range of emotions gleaming in his eyes.

  “I am done playing,” he said. One side of his mouth hitched up in rueful amusement. “Or rather, I hope that our games have only just begun.”

  She frowned. “You aren’t making any sense.”

  He nodded. “I suppose that is because I’ve lost my senses altogether when it comes to you.”

  Jerking her hand out from under his, she stiffened. He was toying with her and her head couldn’t make heads or tails of what was happening. “I don’t…”

  “I want you as my wife, Henri,” he said, his unwavering gaze holding hers. “I want you on my side, at my side.”

  “You—you cannot be serious.” She stumbled over her words because it sounded like. It almost seemed as though— “You cannot seriously mean to make me your wife.”

  He lounged back on the settee and studied her. “Why not?”

  Anger and frustration rose up in her and set her on edge. “Because I’ve already told you, I do not plan to marry,”

  “Because you value your independence,” he finished her sentence. “Because you like to be in control over your destiny and your freedom, and who could blame you?”

  She stared at him aghast. Who could blame her? Everyone. All of society, in fact.

  He took advantage of her stunned state to continue in an irritatingly calm manner that made her even more conscious of her own flustered state. “I had rather hoped that the wager you seem so upset about could help to put you at ease on that account.”

  She blinked at him. Never in her life had she felt so dimwitted. Never, until now. “What?” She did not even try to hide her confusion, her brows pulled together and she clasped her hands to keep from reaching out and shaking him.

  Why was he doing this to her? Her life had been…well, not simple, necessarily, but predictable. She had created a life for herself. A life that held no surprises, but enough intrigue to be interesting. And now, well, now this man came along and she hardly recognized herself anymore. She’d lost all control. Henri, who so firmly held all the cards in her life, was scrambling to pick up the deck which was currently scattered about her feet.

  He leaned forward and placed one hand over hers, his gaze intense and serious. “I am not trying to hurt you, Henri. I never could.”

  She blinked rapidly, hating the moisture making her eyesight uncomfortably foggy. What on earth? Was she…was she crying? Oh, this would never do.

  He squeezed her clasped hands. “Look at me, Henri.”


  She lifted her chin, her eyes meeting his. “Explain,” she said. It was all she could manage.

  His lips curved up in a smile that was tender and kind, and nearly caused the tears she was battling to spill over. He reached up and gently stroked her cheek. “Don’t you see, Henri? Should you choose to marry me, you will win the bet. You will have all the financial security you could ever wish for.”

  Her breath left her in a whoosh as she realized what he’d done. The only person who could make it a sure thing would be her. If she would accept his hand and accept the wager, his fortune would be hers. “And if I don’t?” she asked.

  His smile grew. “Then no one wins, I’m afraid.”

  His words and his smile and the look in his eyes…oh Lord, he was saying so much more with those words. “You’re not just talking about money, are you?” she asked. By some miracle she’d managed to sound like herself in that moment, calculating and cold, even though his words had warmed her from the inside out.

  He grinned. “No, my love, I am not just talking about money.”

  She couldn’t draw in another breath. My love. Had he really said that? Was he merely teasing? One look into his eyes told her he was not. If she were any other woman she would have swooned. Maybe something inside of her did swoon and that was why she lost the ability to breathe. To think. To speak.

  Instead, she ran. It wasn’t intentional, and in hindsight, she couldn’t actually recall telling her legs to move or her feet to run. She found herself with one hand on the door to the foyer where her brother slept. Before she could open it, he placed a hand beside hers, holding it shut. “Don’t run from me, Henri. Please.”

  It was the ‘please’ that killed her. It slayed her and made it impossible to keep running. Her heart beat too quickly in her chest and her breath was coming in short gasps as she struggled to find some sort of balance and equilibrium. She could feel him towering over her, close enough that his warmth seeped into her skin without actually touching her. They stayed like that for countless heartbeats as she felt his warm breath on her ear, his strength so close—all she would have to do was lean back and he would catch her up in his arms.

  “I—I can’t,” she finally managed to say, her heart cracking into pieces in her chest.

  He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her to face him. Instead of the anger or disappointment she’d expected, she saw a tender affection that was so much worse. Anger she could handle, but kindness? Understanding? She had no defense for that.

  “Why not?” he asked.

  She opened her mouth and then closed it again because she could hardly form a sentence, not when her heart was aching and her mind was heading in eight directions at once, weighing her options, deciphering his words, and sorting through the jumble of emotions tumbling over her.

  After studying her for a moment he sighed, apparently realizing she would not break her silence anytime soon. Rather than give in or walk away, he kissed her.

  The kiss was what finally made her mind go quiet. For the first time in her life, she was happy to relinquish the constant chatter and the ceaseless plotting. Once her mind shut off, all that was left was sensation. The hot flood of warmth that always accompanied his kisses, the needy sensation that had her clinging to him even as he pulled her into his arms soothed her. The feeling that she was falling, head over feet, as his lips molded to hers as if they were meant to be together struck her.

  But it was her heart that spoke the loudest. Yes, this, it seemed to say. Yes, yes, yes. The yes was incessant and unceasing, and it wouldn’t stop until she said it aloud. When he moved his mouth to nibble her ear, the word slipped out on a sigh. “Yes.”

  He stilled, his lips still pressed to that sensitive spot an inch below her earlobe, his hands gripping her waist. “Yes?”

  Her smile was tremulous but genuine against his cheek. “Yes,” she whispered again, this time with more certainty. He crushed her in his arms, covering her with kisses; her neck, her cheeks, her forehead, and even her nose. He kissed her until she was laughing, and once she started she couldn’t stop. Joy bubbled up inside of her, as well as fear.

  For the first time, she knew fear was manageable. Now that she’d said it aloud, the decision had been made. Whether it was right or wrong, she had taken a leap and she embraced it, fear and all.

  “Yes,” she said again, this time rising up on tiptoe and kissing him for all she was worth. Twining her arms around his neck, she let out a gasp as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her up so her feet were dangling off the floor as he held her to his chest. “I will make you happy, Henri, I swear it.”

  She believed him, and that terrified her more than anything in the world. “What is it, love?” he murmured when his lips trailed to her ear.

  “I—I’ve…” She took a deep breath. If she were going to be married, she had to learn how to open up to him the way he had done with her. “I’ve never relied on anyone before. I’ve never…”

  He set her down and pulled back so he could look her in the eyes. “You’ve never trusted anyone,” he whispered, finishing her words for her.

  She nodded and swallowed. “I am not sure I know how.”

  He arched a brow. “We can learn together.”

  She felt her lips twitching up in amusement at that. “Perhaps.” She gave him a warning look. “You know I will never be a proper wife, don’t you?”

  He drew his brows together in mock horror. “I would never ask that of you.”

  She gave a short nod. “I will never do your bidding.”

  “I should hope not.”

  She let him pull her closer into his arms as she talked. “And I will be bored to tears if you try and stick me in a drawing room with some embroidery.”

  He laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She met his gaze. “Then how exactly do you see this working between us?”

  He stilled, his expression growing more serious as he seemed to sense the gravity of her question. “I was rather hoping you would be my partner.”

  She arched her brows. “Partner?”

  He nodded. “With a pirate for a brother and a privateering operation to run, I could use someone like you to ensure my family stays safe and out of harm.”

  “Your family,” she murmured.

  He leaned down until his forehead pressed against hers. “Our family.”

  Her smile was quick and sudden, and frighteningly genuine. “I like the sound of that.”

  He moved his hands up to cup her face and the sudden seriousness in his eyes gave her pause.

  “What is it?”

  He cleared his throat. “There’s something more you ought to know before we marry.”

  The quick flare of his nostrils and the darkening of his eyes were a dead giveaway. He was nervous. She reached a hand up to cover his.

  “You know some of my family’s secrets, but my brother and his enterprise are not the only skeletons in this family closet, I’m afraid.”

  He took a deep breath and she took pity. “If you’re referring to the fact that you’re not the earl’s son, I not only know, I approve.”

  He jerked back in surprise, his brows hitching up before a short laugh escaped. “You…you know about that?”

  She lifted one shoulder in a shrug and he burst out in another laugh. He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. “Of course you do,” he muttered through his laughter.

  She smiled against his chest. It was oddly freeing to have someone in her life who not only knew about her peculiar interest in snooping, but who loved her for it. It was a different sort of freedom than the type she was accustomed to, of course, but it was freedom nonetheless. Being loved for who she truly was would take some getting used to, but she suspected she’d grow to embrace it wholeheartedly.

  He pulled back after a moment, his laughter subsiding, but his amused smile still firmly in place. “And what else do you know about me?”

  She smiled. “A lady has t
o have some secrets, Alistair.”

  He rewarded her with a kiss. “Of course she does.” He led her back to the settee and sank down, tugging her onto his lap in the process. “Are you certain you won’t mind being married to a man who could be discovered to be a fraud and an accomplice to pirates at any moment?”

  She widened her eyes. “Are you joking? You must know that I wouldn’t be happy without some scandal in my life.”

  He nodded and laced his fingers through hers. “Then, as your husband, I promise to provide you with scandal.”

  She grinned. “And I promise to protect your secrets.”

  He pulled her to him and she snuggled into his embrace. “I do believe we could make a perfect pair, you and I.”

  She sighed, a smile of contentment spreading across her face, uncharacteristic to be sure—but she had a feeling she could get used to it.

  Epilogue

  Alistair attempted in vain to smother his laughter at the sight of his wife’s look of honest bemusement.

  Not at the sight of the office he’d had prepared for her, but at his idiocy. “Did you really think you could surprise me, darling?” she asked, her eyes alight with laughter.

  “Never,” he said, leaning down to nuzzle her neck as she turned to face the room that had supposedly been shut down for cleaning these past few weeks before her birthday. “But I like to try.”

  She turned her head to smile up at him. “And I love that you try.”

  He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. “And I love that you love that I try.”

  They shared a silly grin, one that would have horrified them both, no doubt, before they’d done the unthinkable and fallen in love.

  “I love it,” she whispered, the laughter fading to warmth and a tenderness that made his world spin.

  “And I love you.” He turned her slightly so he could kiss those lips, those lips that he was certain he could never get enough of, no matter how many days, weeks, or years they spend at one another’s side.