Heat rose in her cheeks. She’d never been fully naked for anyone, even her husband. Yet her answer was decisive. “All right.” She rose up on the bed just enough to tug her nightdress over her head and toss it to the floor.
It left her totally exposed before his hot perusal, which ought to have made her nervous. Yet somehow Niall’s ravening gaze, touching on her breasts, her belly, her thighs . . . her privates, only aroused her further. Niall had experienced all of her body in furtive touches, but this blatant conquering with his eyes was so much more intimate. Erotic. Thrilling.
With her blood pounding in her ears, she surveyed every inch of his male beauty. Lord, but he was fine. He was taut where Reynold had been soft, lean where Reynold had run to fat. He was as different from her late husband as a wolf from an overfed dog. Heaven help her, but that made her desire him all the more.
She held out her hands. “Come to bed, my wild rogue.”
He approached, but didn’t join her. “Is that how you see me still?”
“Do you mind?” she asked, surprised by the disappointment in his voice.
“Not at present,” he said, utterly serious. “But I may in the morning.”
“Then we’ll deal with it in the morning. For tonight, however, can you just be my wild rogue?”
He reached up to stroke her hair, then wrapped a hank of it lightly around his hand so he could then draw it over her nipple repeatedly, until she was gasping at the tantalizing caress.
Firelight caught his smile. “I can do anything, if it means having you. Like this, aching for me, gasping for me. Wanting me as much as I want you. Say it again. That you want me.”
“When you look at me like that, I want you more than you can ever dream.”
“I doubt that,” he said, running his hands down her sides to her waist. “I have pretty vast dreams of you wanting me, sweeting.”
She drew his hand between her legs. “So do I.”
With a sharp intake of breath, he cupped her down there, then took her mouth with a fierceness bordering on savagery. Next thing she knew, he was pressing her back onto the bed so he could lie on top of her. The feel of him surrounding her was so exquisite that she arched up against him, hungry for more.
“Ah, my lovely, wanton girl,” he murmured.
“Take me, Niall,” she whispered against his throat. “The way you do in your dreams.”
“This is ten times better than any dream,” he said hoarsely. Then he filled her with his flesh in one sleek stroke.
She’d have expected such haste to make their joining unsatisfying, but instead it was ferocious and exotic and absolutely wonderful. He drove into her and she felt every thrust to the depths of her soul. She fondled him, and he moaned with each touch as if she’d caught the essence of him.
With silent caresses, they made the sweetest love she could imagine, and she relished every moment. This was what she’d expected of marriage, this union of bodies and pleasure and passion and . . . oh, everything.
“Niall,” she whispered, her heart so full of joy that she wanted to share it with him. “Make me yours, my darling.”
“You’ve always been mine, whether you knew it or not.”
And then he was driving her forward to that lovely place of bliss, and she was clutching him to her and straining upward until he gave a few quick thrusts that sent her leaping toward the stars.
He must have followed her there, for he groaned so feelingly that it tipped her over into heaven.
“My dearest rogue,” she cried. “My darling Niall.”
“Yes, sweeting.” He thrust hard, then spilled his seed inside her with a long, aching moan. “Mine,” he murmured against her lips. “All mine.”
And in truth, she wanted nothing more than to be his. For the rest of her life and beyond.
Lord help her.
Niall lay on his side next to Bree, his head propped up on one hand as he stared down at her nude form. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Like some elusive goddess in a painting, she lay drowsing, with her hair spilling out over the pillow, rumpled velvet lit by candlelight.
Her plump breasts were topped with cheeky pink nipples he wanted to ravage all over again. Entranced by her beauty, he skimmed a hand down the soft contours of her body. Satiny skin, hips lush enough to tempt a man, and between them . . .
God, he had to stop thinking of it, or he’d take her again, and they still had things to discuss. He couldn’t believe that she’d seduced him. It was so unlike her.
Or perhaps not. She was his Lady Rebel, after all.
He brushed a kiss to her rosy cheek, wishing he could stay here until morning, wishing he never had to leave her bed. But since they weren’t married, that wasn’t a choice.
She nuzzled his chin. “You need to shave.”
“That’s all you have to say to me?” he teased.
“What did you want to hear?”
“That I made you swoon. That I’m an excellent lover. That you can’t believe my astounding capability to—”
“Enough,” she said, a soft laugh escaping her. “You know perfectly well that you made me swoon and shiver and shake. As always.”
“That’s more like it.” He cocked his head to listen, but heard nothing in the house. “All seems quiet. We might have gotten away with this.”
She shot him a bemused look. “Since when do you care?”
“Since I first laid eyes on you.”
“What fustian!” She smoothed her hand over his chest. “You’ve always been a rogue and will always be one, no doubt.”
The words cut him deeper than she could know. “Don’t say that.”
She blinked. “Why not? I don’t mind it, honestly. It’s what makes you . . . interesting.”
He sighed. “It’s what makes you think I betrayed you years ago.”
Her gaze grew shuttered. “It doesn’t matter. We’re different people now, and I use ‘rogue’ only in the best sense. It’s what makes you so very good at this.”
“Ah. So you’ve decided to overlook my past because I give you pleasure.”
“That’s not what I—”
“Bree, I didn’t betray you back then,” he said earnestly.
He had to tell her the rest. Clearly she wanted to forgive him without knowing the truth, but the festering sore of her misconception would poison their future, whether she realized that or not.
And in his heart, Niall trusted her to keep his secret. And his family’s.
Because he loved her.
He always had. Even when he’d believed the worst of her, some kernel of him had clung to the hope that she wasn’t the woman his father had made her out to be.
She settled the restlessness in him as no one else ever had, offered him respite from the tumult in his mind. One look at her with Silas, and he knew that together they could make a very happy family.
But she could only learn to trust him again if he trusted her. So he had to tell her the truth—because he couldn’t go on without her.
He took a deep breath. “The duel all those years ago was indeed fought on behalf of a woman—but not the sort of woman you think. I fought Joseph Whiting to gain justice for Clarissa.”
Eighteen
Brilliana gaped at him. He’d fought the duel over his sister? But she had barely been out at that point. “Did Whiting insult her? Harm her somehow?”
A hard look entered Niall’s eyes. “He raped her.”
“Oh, my Lord. And she . . . told you?” Most women would have hidden it, if only to preserve their reputations.
“She didn’t have to. I came upon them just as he finished using her most brutally.” A haunted look crossed his face as he slid from the bed to pull his drawers on. “If you could have seen her lying there in the orangery that night, broken and bleeding and sobbing her heart out—”
“Your poor sister! How awful!” She could only imagine how terrible it would be to be taken against her will. Reynold might have been abrupt, but he had never hu
rt her.
Niall slanted a wary glance at her. “You don’t blame her, do you?”
“Of course not! How could I? One hears of scoundrels who try to get girls alone to kiss them, or put their hands where they shouldn’t. But this goes beyond the pale.”
Suddenly, the full significance of his confession hit her. He had never been involved with a mistress. He had never betrayed her. As he’d said back then, he’d had good reason to duel.
“But why didn’t you tell me this years ago, when you asked me to run away with you?” she whispered.
His face closed up. “My father swore me to secrecy to save Clarissa’s reputation. Whiting hadn’t told his seconds what the duel was about, hoping he could force Clarissa into marriage since he’d taken her innocence. Indeed, he made an offer for her when I discovered them together. But I wasn’t about to sentence my sister to life with such a villain.”
Brilliana shivered. “Certainly not.”
“Once I’d killed him and it was clear that no one but Clarissa and I knew the truth, I turned to Father for help. He pointed out that we could preserve Clarissa’s reputation as long as we prevented her from having to testify to what had happened. The only way to avoid a trial was for me to flee England, so I did—to ensure she could have a future.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared at Brilliana. “I don’t regret it. I did what I had to.”
She rose from the bed to slip her nightgown on. “Of course. I don’t dispute that. But . . . I know you made a vow to your father, but you said I was your true love. Surely you could have told me.”
His gaze was stark. “How would that have changed anything?”
“For one thing, your father’s lies to me wouldn’t have swayed me. I would have clung to the hope that you might return. I would have tried harder to reach you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I wouldn’t have married Reynold.”
He shook his head sadly. “Your circumstances forced you into that, as surely as mine forced me into fleeing. Your father gave you no more choice than mine gave me.”
“But if I’d known you were waiting for me, I might have—I don’t know—tried to find out from your mother where you were. Or from your sister. I might have gone abroad with you and taken Mama, too.”
“Bree,” he said gently. “Your mother could never have managed such a trip, and you know it.”
“Still, I would have held firm against Papa,” she protested. “I would have waited for you.”
“And stood by while your mother went to debtors’ prison? I doubt that.”
She winced. He had a point. And yet . . . “We’ll never know, will we? I might have managed something, but you didn’t trust me with the truth, so I believed your father and made my own arrangements.”
“It wasn’t a matter of trust.”
“Wasn’t it?” Her throat aching with unshed tears, she drew on her wrapper. “You didn’t tell me the truth because you believed your father when he said I was an adventuress.” A fractured sigh escaped her. “I cut my father off when he betrayed me.” When he’d abandoned her to Reynold. “Yet you . . . you trusted yours. Instead of trusting your heart.”
“But I wasn’t the only one. I told you I’d had good reason to fight the duel, but my word wasn’t enough. You chose your mother’s happiness over mine, so you can hardly blame me for choosing my sister’s happiness over yours.”
His voice softened. “And anyway, the problems between us didn’t stem from a lack of trust. Your mother was very ill, and you were caught between a rock and a hard place. So was I—I wasn’t free to divulge someone else’s secret. We both did what we thought we had to. We can’t alter the past, but can’t we put it behind us?”
She wanted to. She really did. But every time she put her faith in someone, she ended up being hurt. “You’re the one who kept all the secrets. I didn’t keep any from you.”
A shadow crossed his face. “Didn’t you? Fulkham says your husband purposely drowned himself. Yet you’ve said naught of that to me. Is it true?”
Shame swamped her. “I didn’t learn of it until recently—but yes.” Tears threatened to choke her. “He did it because of me and you. He realized that you had my heart when he did not. And after he lost so much money . . .” She shook her head. “It was all too much for him.”
“Damned fool.” Niall approached to take her into his arms. “None of it was your fault, Bree. Not the arranged marriage, not the fact that you couldn’t love him, and certainly not his actions near the end. You have to stop blaming yourself for it.”
She stared up at him, looking haunted. “But because of what I did, Silas will never have a father.”
“Not because of what you did—because of what Trevor did. And Silas will have a father. I mean to be his father, if you’ll have me.”
The words hung in the air. Niall truly wanted to marry her. Apparently he’d always wanted to marry her. She could scarcely believe it. Believing it was dangerous.
She pulled free of him. “Tell me this. Once you realized yesterday why I married Reynold, why didn’t you reveal your reasons for the duel? Your father is dead, so why not tell me?”
He pushed his fingers through his disheveled hair. “Because it wasn’t my secret to tell. It was Clarissa’s. And Edwin’s. I wanted their permission before I said anything to you.”
A lump caught in her throat. “I guess they gave it to you, or you wouldn’t be here telling me this.”
“Actually, they didn’t. Edwin wouldn’t even let me see my sister. He begged me not to reveal the truth about the duel, because he was afraid that if you couldn’t be trusted with the secret and it got out, the scandal might cause Clarissa to lose the child. He insisted that I keep quiet.”
She stared at him, scarcely daring to breathe.
He reached up to wind one of her curls about his finger. “But I knew I could trust you, that it was time we put this behind us. Keeping the secret from you has been intolerable, and I couldn’t do it any longer.” His heart shone in his eyes. “I’ve sacrificed enough for my family. I will not sacrifice you. Ever again.”
She wanted desperately to believe him. But . . .
He cupped her cheek. “I hope I’ve made it clear where my loyalties lie. I risked my sister’s health and my friendship with Edwin to tell you the truth. Because I know, in my heart, that I can trust you implicitly. The question is, do you trust me?”
“How can I?” she burst out. “You left me once—for noble reasons, I know. But the end was the same. I was left alone, with no one to help me deal with Mama.” Her throat constricted. “Or to stop Papa from tossing me to another man. Then Mama left me, too—not that she could help it—but I still ended up in a marriage to a man I didn’t love.”
As Niall stared at her, his face full of compassion, she couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. “And even he left me in the end. Don’t you see? Everyone leaves me eventually, whether I want them to or not. So how can I be sure you won’t do it, too?”
He brushed away her tears. “Because I love you, sweeting. I always have. And you love me, too. I know it.”
After running his thumb over her lips, he gave a sigh, then released her. “Unfortunately, you don’t trust your own heart. You’re so afraid of being hurt that you won’t take a chance on being happy.” He headed over to finish pulling on his clothes. “So you’re the one who has to choose, Bree. Will you give in to your fear? Cling to your anger over my abandoning you to Trevor all those years ago? Tell yourself that you’re doing what’s safest, when really all you’re doing is running away?”
He stared her down. “Or will you choose us? I’ve chosen us over everyone else. I want you as my wife, no matter what happens with your father or my sister or Edwin. Now it’s up to you to decide what you want. I can’t make the decision for you. If I could, we would be heading for the altar right now.”
When she just stared at him, her mind racing and her heart pounding, he said, “I’ll give you t
ime to think about it, but not very much. I’ll be here tomorrow to officially ask you to marry me. And I’ll need your answer. Because I can’t go on loving you, knowing that you’re too afraid to love me. Reynold might have been willing to do that. I am not.”
And with that, he went out the balcony door.
She hurried out to watch, to make sure he didn’t kill himself. As he climbed nimbly down the side of the town house, the words, “Wait, come back, I want to marry you!” were on the tip of her tongue.
Yet still she held back. What if she and he could not make it work in spite of their love for one another?
Will you give in to your fear? Cling to your anger over my abandoning you to Trevor all those years ago? Tell yourself that you’re doing what’s safest, when really all you’re doing is running away?
She was running away. Because not running away meant facing an uncertain future. She’d done that and had it turn out badly so many times that she was afraid to do it again.
At the edge of the garden Niall stopped to blow her a kiss, and her heart lurched in her chest. She loved him so much.
But he didn’t understand that love wasn’t always enough. It hadn’t been enough to keep him at her side. It hadn’t been enough to keep anyone at her side. And then she was inevitably left bleeding where no one could see.
She choked down her pain. Niall didn’t understand that trusting your heart, opening it to love, could destroy you. And right now, that terrified her more than even the thought of being without him.
Nineteen
Niall went straight to his study, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Frustration gripped him, not only with Bree but with the whole damned situation. He loved the woman to distraction, and if she didn’t accept his proposal tomorrow, he didn’t know what he’d do.
For one thing, to finish his agreement with Fulkham he’d have to continue their fake engagement, and the idea of being with her as some polite pretend suitor . . . He couldn’t do it. Not anymore.
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