by Lee, Jade
“I kept thinking, why am I still alive? Why haven’t the bullets, the fever, or even the enemy put paid to my existence? Why did I still breathe when all I wanted was to finally rest.”
She bit her lip. “What’s the answer?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s the answer, Diana. I don’t know why I still breathe, but as long as I do, I cannot put faith in anything I once believed. Not my country, my title, my body, or even my own will. I couldn’t even force myself to live or die. That was in God’s hands.”
She stroked her hand across his clenched hand. How had he gone from what they’d just done to this angry place where he banged his fist down on his thigh?
“You are a man of extraordinary willpower. I doubt you would have survived otherwise.”
He shook his head. “It’s not my willpower that is strong, Diana. It’s the knowledge that I will choose honorably where I have choice.”
“Of course,” she said as she sat up and faced him, but even as she spoke, he shook his head.
“It’s not ‘of course.’ A man has two choices when he is stripped down to nothing. He can indulge in every whim to satisfy the moment, or he can decide to give meaning to his actions.”
“And that’s honor?”
“It is for me. Did you ever wonder how I ended up as a guard in a gaming hell?”
“You know I do.” She leaned forward. “You don’t usually answer my questions.” She was grateful that he wanted to talk now.
He shrugged. “Sometimes it’s hard to explain. I went into the Lyon’s Den because it was warm, and I was cold. Normally I wouldn’t have been allowed in.” He smiled. “Their clientele dresses much better than I do, but the doorman, Nick, was inside trying to subdue a violent drunk. As I watched, he got punched hard enough that he lost his front teeth. For the rest of his life, Nick had to chew on the side of his mouth rather than eat like a normal man, all because a drunkard cared more about what he wanted than what his actions meant for everyone else.” He shook his head. “I saw it happen and grew so angry that I stepped in, got the idiot in a headlock, and marched him out the door. I was offered a job five minutes after that.”
A beautiful story, but she didn’t understand how it related to everything else. “And that’s honorable. Because you helped a doorman?”
“Because I see how actions affect everyone else. I think ahead, and I choose a path that causes the least suffering.”
She touched his face. “Or perhaps the most joy?”
He shook his head. “Joy is fleeting. Suffering lasts a great deal longer. Do you still feel your quickening?”
Her cheeks flushed in memory. “Not that exactly, but I am happy to be here with you.”
He nodded. “And I with you. But if I were to take my pleasure with you now, that would give me great joy—”
She grinned. “Then—”
“But the future would hold suffering. You might regret your choice in the morning. And if there was a babe, how would you explain that? I don’t want to father a bastard.”
She shook her head. “Babes can be prevented in other ways.” She’d learned that at the beginning of her marriage when she hadn’t wanted a child. “And even if I regret my actions, I would never blame you.”
He sighed as he lifted her hand to his lips. “Don’t you see? I want my choices to have meaning. If I were to lay with you now, it wouldn’t have meaning. Just lust.”
It would have meant something to her. To make love with someone by her choice would have been a momentous thing for her. But once again, someone else forced his choices upon her, and she resented it.
“I chose you tonight,” she said, and though she tried to hide her anger from him, he likely heard it anyway. “I may not do it again.”
“To give in to my lust now would betray my own honor. I will not risk our future on the needs of the moment.”
“Even if they are my needs?” she challenged. Then she held up her hand to stop him from talking. “I have spent my life measuring my life by other people’s demands. Tonight, I choose for myself and no one else.” He didn’t respond, but then again, he didn’t need to. Making love was a choice made by two people, not just herself alone. She blew out a sigh. “I will not damn you for making another choice.”
His expression softened. “You act as if my heart isn’t pounding for you. It would be so easy for me to fall.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re not acting as if that’s true.” Was it a crime for her to wonder at her own attractiveness? She was a matron now and not as dewy fresh as the eighteen-year-old debutantes. “As Lord Chellam, you will have your choice in brides this Season.”
He wrapped her hand in his good one, then slowly drew it down his body. He pressed it to the hot bulge beneath his falls, and she heard his hiss as her hand began to shape the length and breadth of his cock.
“I want you,” he whispered. “I have wanted you since the day we first met.”
She took her time feeling him. The heat was intense but more interesting was the way his head dropped back, and his breath stuttered as she played. Even through the protection of his clothing, she found where he was sensitive. She learned a little about how he liked to be touched.
“Would you like it?” she asked. “If I did to you what you did to me?”
His eyes widened. “How do you know of such things?”
She arched a brow at him. “I was married for twelve years.”
“But you…” He swallowed. “Diana, I do not want to risk our future. I do not want to go too quickly—” His words were strangled off as she unbuttoned his clothing.
“My choice,” she said. Then she bent her head to him.
This was an intimacy she knew, but the differences were clear. His musk was intriguing, the shape and power of what she kissed obvious, but what startled her was the joy it gave her to pleasure him. She listened to his sounds, felt the shudder that went through him when she engulfed him and knew the exact moment when he surrendered to what she made him feel. He released a low groan that rolled through his body into hers, and his hips began to pump in earnest. She grew wet as he lost himself in her. And she found her own delight when his fingers cupped her breast and pinched her nipple.
Heat coiled through her. Hunger made her ache. And when he pulled her off him and caught his release in a handkerchief, she found herself watching him with hunger. His chest heaved, and his hands shook.
He wrapped his hand around her head and pulled her close for a kiss. And while she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, she felt his hand slip between her thighs. Still wet. Still sensitive. He worked her with his fingers, while she gasped into his kiss.
Quickening. Again!
Heat. Bliss.
Him.
Afterward, when she lay there panting, he pressed his lips to her neck. He nipped her there in lazy tastes as he brought his mouth to her ear.
“I cannot wait to make you my wife,” he said.
Her breath caught. “Wife?” she whispered.
He pulled back, his gaze luminous. “Of course.”
Not.
No.
Never.
She knew this is what he wanted, but the reality of it hit her broadside. Not his desires, but hers. She never wanted to be a wife again.
“Diana?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lucas was not a man given to doubts. Though he often wondered about his worth in God’s eyes, he did not question his worth from the world’s perspective. Especially since his family now knew he was alive. He was Lord Chellam again and would one day become the Earl of Wolvesmead. The idea that the lady of his choice would not agree to marry him never entered his thoughts. And even if it had, the lady he wanted was right now in his arms. She had begged him to make love to her. And he had brought her to fullness twice this night.
And yet, he could see by her expression that she would refuse him.
“Lucas,” she said. She licked her lips, and her gaze darted away from
him. She meant to roll out of his arms, but he held her tight. “Lucas, I am just now widowed.”
“And we will wait for an appropriate amount of time. But this I swear to you—”
“I will not be forced into marriage again, no matter what you swear!”
He swallowed his temper. “You just this night said you chose me.”
She sighed. “Do not be dense. I meant for this night. For this pleasure.”
“And you assumed that I would pleasure you without thought to our wedding?”
“Yes!”
“No.”
Her head dropped back, and she looked at the ceiling. “There is not a man among the peerage who does not look for a wealthy widow to bed with no thought of marriage.”
He snorted. “There is one. Me.”
“Just my luck.”
He didn’t respond to her dry tone. It hurt to hear it. He had no wish to continue the conversation. He released her and reset his attire. He threw his handkerchief in the bucket and would see that it was disposed of in a private way. Meanwhile, she drew the covers up until he could see no more than her face and the wild crown of her hair. Beautiful, but defensive.
“Be reasonable, Lucas. I have not had a great deal of time to think of my future.”
“That’s a lie,” he accused. “You do nothing but think of the future.” He was standing beside her bed and now dropped his hands on his hips. “Is it the money? I have savings, and my title carries funds as well. I do not know the particulars, but I can keep you in good style.”
She sat up, obviously offended. “I have my own savings,” she snapped. “But if you want to think of estates, then recall that the people here are under my care until I wed. Upon that day, everything here returns to Geoffrey’s exploitation.” She shook her head. “Ireland has suffered greatly. I will not leave them to his mercy.”
He had forgotten that detail in the heat of the moment. Damn it. She always had a reason to deny him. “And if the problem of Geoffrey could be resolved? Would you marry me then?”
The way her gaze slid away was answer enough, but she made it worse by trying to explain. “I have just now gained my freedom.”
“Marriage to me is not prison.”
“Marriage to any man is.” She turned to face him. “Surely, you see that.”
He did. It made no difference to him. “How lonely have you been these last twelve years? Was there companionship between you and a man double your age?”
She grimaced. “We found ways to get along.”
“And was that enough for you?” He leaned forward, dropping his fists on the mattress beside her. “You have been terribly lonely. You said so yourself!”
“Yes.”
“So why would you want to remain alone? Why sentence yourself to more years in isolation—”
“Isolation?” she mocked. “A wealthy widow chooses who she spends her time and her money on.” She straightened up onto her knees. “A married woman goes as her husband wills.”
He shook his head. “I would not restrict you.”
“You have been restricting me from the first moment you came into my house! You have been locking my doors, following me everywhere, keeping me within sight—”
“For your own safety!”
“And when will you cease worrying about that?”
“After Geoffrey is dealt with.”
“Then I shall be free to go where I will, do as I want? If I chose to shop in Cheapside or come back here?”
“Why would you want to do either of those things?”
“What if I want to take a ship to India or the colonies?”
“You’ve never wanted to do any of that!”
“That’s not true! I’ve never had permission before.”
He blew out a breath. “All of these things can be done with proper precautions. Except for Cheapside. There is nothing there for you.”
She shook her head. “Can you not see it? I don’t want to bargain with anyone for my choices.”
“And you would toss me aside so you can visit Cheapside?”
She swallowed. “That would be your choice. There are ways to prevent pregnancy. Ways to have pleasure without a wedding ring.”
He knew that. Hell, he had spent the last years in a gaming hell that had upstairs rooms for all manner of entertainment. But he could not think of her like that. Not Diana, the woman who had reigned as an angel in his thoughts. He couldn’t imagine her as yet another merry widow in search of entertainment. He wouldn’t.
“I need to take another circle of the property.”
She blew out a breath. “Geoffrey is not here.”
“You don’t know that. You have no idea what a man will do get what he wants.”
She could not miss his dark tone, but did he truly intend the double meaning? Geoffrey would go to any end to get hold of more money. Would Lucas do the same to possess her?
Maybe. He wanted her that much, but he had to be smart about it. He had to let her choose him. She would not be forced, that much was obvious. And so he would leave her side now and think about it. He would plan his campaign as carefully as he would a war. And in the end, she would see that she wanted him so much that she would give him everything, including her hand in marriage.
“Lucas,” she said as she let the covers slip. Her breasts were stunningly beautiful in the shimmering light of the moon. “Leave the protection to your men. Stay the night here with me.”
He wanted to, but that was not going to happen. “I trust your safety to no one but myself and God.”
She sighed. Then he pressed his point harder.
“I want you by my side for life. And I will not grace your bed until you can give me that promise.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lucas had a long night of patrol to think about his decision. He relieved every moment of their time together. Not just this night, but every shared look, every word, every touch since they’d first met twelve years ago. And after all that, his decision remained the same.
She was the woman he wanted for his wife. She was smart, resilient, and she fought hard for what she wanted in life. He just hadn’t expected that what she wanted would be so different than what he did. She seemed consumed by her desire for independence. As a man who had spent the last twelve years learning he had to rely on others, he knew exactly how lonely it was to go it alone.
He finished his circuit and decided to go to the kitchen for a moment. He slipped inside the dark to see the bright tip of a cheroot burning. He didn’t have to say a word before his friend was speaking.
“All quiet, sir. Not even a wolf is howling tonight.”
Lucas smiled. “Do I hear a little boredom in your voice, Caleb? Don’t like Ireland?”
“I was born here, sir. I left for a reason.”
Lucas shook off the wet before turning toward the fire. “I thought you left because your girl married someone else.”
Caleb grunted his agreement. “Ireland’s got plenty of pretty girls. I left because I wanted more than the moors.” He shrugged. “There’s lots more of everything in London.”
“Can’t argue that.”
Caleb tossed him an apple, which he caught. He was halfway through it before Caleb spoke again.
“Sir, if I could ask…?”
“Yes?”
“What’s to happen now that you’re back in the world?”
“I never left the world, Caleb.” It was the truth, but it also wasn’t what the man meant, and they both knew it.
“You’re Lord Chellam again, sir. That type can’t man the door at a gaming hell, no matter what his hand looks like.”
He thought about walking away from the whole conversation. He’d had enough thinking about his future while he wandered the grounds. But Caleb deserved better than that, so he finished his apple and turned back to his right-hand man.
“I haven’t come to any decision. I didn’t mean to reveal myself. It just happened, and now I’m caught without a go
od plan.”
“Women have a way of making things just happen, don’t they?”
“Ain’t that the truth—”
“But you can’t blame this one on her, sir.”
His brow lifted in challenge, but he didn’t say anything. His look was dark enough to warn Caleb to be quiet. It didn’t work, because the man kept speaking.
“You never shirked once from the hard work, sir. Not once in battle, not once before or after. You were in the mud and the fire right with us every minute.”
Good that they noticed that. And good that he’d done it because there had been plenty of times he’d wanted to run as far away as he could get. “You’re my brothers. Why would I leave you?”
“Nathan’s your brother, too, and you let him think you were dead. I know you had your reasons, but it still didn’t sit right.”
Lucas winced. Caleb wasn’t one to reprimand anyone, least of all his commanding officer. But this cut pretty close to censure, and damn it, Lucas knew he deserved it. He looked down at his clawed hand and was acutely aware of the scar that cut down the side of his face. It was a silly thing to worry about. He knew that looks meant nothing about the true value of a man. And yet, he recoiled at the idea of appearing in society with his injuries.
“My mother doesn’t like damaged things,” he said. “She’d throw out anything with the slightest flaw.” He paused as he remembered all the food she’d refused because of blemishes, the vase she destroyed when she found a mistake in the painting of it, and the times she’s sent him away because his hair wasn’t brushed or he sported dirt on his shoes. But a man didn’t use others as an excuse for failing in his responsibilities. “I should have told them.”
Caleb shrugged. “You were too sick at first. And then busy finding us.”
But that didn’t explain the last year, and they both knew it. “I just wanted to be me for a bit, doing what I do best.” Leading men not into battle but into protecting something of value. And though gaming hells were everywhere, he’d come to respect the people in the Lyon’s Den, most especially Mrs. Dove-Lyon, who was doing her small part to help the people in her employ advance to bigger and better lives.