Page 52 of The Devil and the Heiress
Christian glared at his brother as the barb hit exactly where it had been planned.
Jacob glared back, not allowing him to look away. “You know what you’re planning to do will hurt her. You hope that if you convince yourself there is no love between you then you can leave her.”
“I am trying to do what is best for her, what is right.” He spoke between gritted teeth.
“When you leave her, it will destroy her. How is that right?” Jacob asked, quite reasonably.
Christian didn’t know anymore. Before, it had all seemed very sensible and honorable. He would help her go back to her life as she had intended it, and he would continue on a little broken for it. But Jacob was correct. That was not right, not if it hurt her. Christian really didn’t know how to be honorable, did he?
“Do you truly believe that it is love she feels?” he whispered.
“From what I have observed, yes, but you could always talk to her. She seems to know her own mind.”
Emotion coursed through him. He didn’t quite know what it was, only that it left him bordering on elated and devastated all at the same time. Could she love him? Could she truly be happy with him, and his existence on the fringes of acceptability, and not come to resent him? His own mother had chosen to flee rather than face such a fate.
•••
The house was quiet when he returned. He took his shoes off just inside the front door and made his way to the kitchen and then the stairs. The light was turned down, and she was sleeping. Her chestnut hair was unbound, a mass of waves around her shoulders, and her lips were parted with her breaths. The scarf had been discarded so the stitches shone, a dark, angry slash against her pale skin. He watched her while he undressed down to his drawers, placing his coat, shirt, and trousers over the back of the single chair. He couldn’t look away as he slid into bed beside her. This remarkable woman could be his wife of her own choosing. He felt much the same humble awe as he had the first time he’d had this thought in the carriage back in London.
His arm went around her, conscious of her bruising. She slept without the sling, so her right hand covered his easily where it rested on her belly.
“Welcome home,” she whispered, eyes still closed.
Home. He understood at that moment he had never had a proper home. The club held a suite of rooms where he rested between work. The house in Belgravia was a cold temple of his father’s treasures that Christian had summarily dismantled. Amberley Park had been a prison. Blythkirk had come closest, giving him refuge between terms at school, but it had been a lonely place. Even Thea’s welcome had only made him feel that her family had made room for him—and he had been glad of it—but it had never been his home.
With that awareness came insight. Never in his life had he had anyone or anything to care for. Nothing and no one had ever belonged to him. The title meant he had inherited things, buildings, emptiness that he had immediately sold away or neglected. He hadn’t cared enough—and indeed hadn’t the finances at any rate—to do more than keep them functional. They had all belonged to his father first, which meant they were tainted and not Christian’s at all.
Violet was his, or she could be. He had bathed her, cared for her, comforted her as he never had anyone before. She had come to rely on him, and he liked that. No, that was too tame a word. He cherished it, savored having her eyes look to him to fulfill her needs. But could she belong to him as a wife belonged to her husband? Would it be fair to her?
He placed a kiss to her shoulder, the small indentation where her neck met her chest, her soft lips. She smiled at him when he pulled back. This was his home. Her. Violet. The realization was enough to steal his breath.
“I’m glad I was able to meet your brother. He’s very charming.”
“Not too charming, I hope,” he teased her to cover the emotion coursing through him.
“He cares for you deeply. It’s plain to see.”
“I don’t want to talk about my brother,” he said, slipping his arm beneath her to gently guide her to lie on top of him, her legs falling to either side of him. Her weight felt good and right. He couldn’t stop touching her, letting his palms roam down her back to her hips and up again, careful of her bruising.
“What do you wish to talk about?” she asked, stretching like a cat beneath his touch.
“Something he said to me in the carriage. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”
Her face sobered a bit in her curiosity. “What did he say?”
His heartbeat sped until he could hear it in his head. He believed Jacob wasn’t wrong. Whether her affection was mere infatuation was yet to be determined, but she believed herself in love. It was a truth he had been running from. Marrying her to suit his own needs was one thing, but marrying her knowing that his heart was in the balance was another. What would happen when her infatuation waned? But what would happen if it didn’t? If it did prove to be love? His soul trembled at the simple imagining of it.
The words had to be forced out of him. “What do you envision for the future? For us?”
Her smile was back, along with a slight blush. “I hoped we might...” She looked away, equally reluctant to put voice to her wants.
“I love you, Violet.” The phrase was foreign to him, so hearing the words and feeling them on his tongue felt odd, as if someone else was saying them. His heartbeat belonged to another, and his breath stilled. He had never felt this vulnerable before, knowing that her reaction could completely crush him.
But her gaze met his, and her smile lost its hesitance, a fine sheen coming into her eyes. “I love you, too, Christian. It feels as though I always have.”
The words were like a balm to the ragged edges of hissoul. Life came back into him in a rush, filling him up with her. Jacob was right. Sending her away would only hurt her, likely worse than keeping her with him. While he had manipulated her in the beginning like the others, he was the only one who actually cared about her feelings. He had done it to help her, even if it had helped himself.
He cupped her face between his hands and leaned forward to kiss her. She opened to him, touching his tongue with hers and taking control of the kiss in a way that both surprised and stirred him. His cock, already rigid at her nearness, swelled and thickened between them. Finally, he pulled back, unable to kiss her knowing that he couldn’t have more. He had neglected searching the village for a chemist and more rubber sheaths in the hopes their lack would help keep him honorable.
