Page 58 of The Danger of Desire
“You already tried that, and she didn’t relent. Why should she? She’s been trying to find you a husband. Now that one has fallen into her lap, she’s not going to give that up without a fight.”
He didn’t notice the bitterness creeping into his voice until the color drained from Delia’s features.
She thrust out her chin. “I know you probably think this has all been some devious scheme to snare you, but I swear I wasn’t—”
“I never thought you were.” Cursing his clumsy words, he grabbed her hand. “God knows you’ve avoided me all day, dearling. And I’m well aware of how I get during my nightmares.”
She blinked. “You’ve had them before?”
Damn. “A time or two, yes. That’s not the point. Surely you see that we have no choice but to marry.”
An insultingly large sigh escaped her. “I suppose.”
“Do contain your enthusiasm at the prospect,” he said dryly.
“Oh! No, that’s not...” She reddened again. “I’m sure that you... I just... well... What was it you said that day at my aunt’s house? ‘But I also know that seduction is a dangerous game, and sometimes the outcome is beyond one’s control.’ Little did you guess that the seduction would be unintended, and the outcome beyondyourcontrol. I fear you will resent me for ending your bachelor life.”
“Trust me, my bachelor life isn’t as much fun as it looks.”
Even as she snorted her disbelief, he realized that the words were true. His bachelor life hadn’t been much fun in a very long time.
“In any case,” he went on, “it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that we settle this to everyone’s satisfaction.”
“Except mine and Brilliana’s,” she said glumly, pulling her hand from his. “Now she’ll have no choice but to attempt to marry to save the estate.” She cast him a hopeful glance. “Unless you’re willing to let Jack Jones keep going to Dickson’s to gamble?”
“Not on your life. So you’ll also have to give up looking for the tattooed man, at least at Dickson’s. Though perhaps if you would tell me why you’re looking for him—”
“It doesn’t matter now,” she said hastily.
Something in her eyes told him that it did indeed still matter, but he wouldn’t press her on it just yet. It was going to be hard enough to reassure her that they could rub along well as man and wife.
But there was one anxiety of hers he could put to rest at least. “As for Camden Hall, as soon as we marry, I’ll speak to the lender for your mortgage and set up payments to keep foreclosure at bay until the estate can get on its feet again.”
Her eyes widened. “You would do that? Pay the mortgage?”
“For a while.” His desire to reassure her warred with his urge to maintain his dignity and not look as if he were groveling for her hand. Which he wasn’t. Not exactly.
“If the choice is between watching my wife’s relations tossed out of their home and forced to live with me, or helping them to stand on their own, I would much rather do the latter.”
“Oh, of course,” she said disappointedly. “That makes sense.”
Now he wished he hadn’t sounded quite so brusque. But God help him, he didn’t want to start the marriage with her thinking she could twist him about her finger and get him to do whatever she wanted. This wasn’t a love match. Best that she know it from the beginning.
It would, however, be a lust match. Perhaps he should clarify that, too. “You once said that you thought we might do quite well together in bed. Do you still think so?”
Her cheeks flamed. “I... that is... you said there was no might about it, and that we certainly would. So I shall have to take your word for it.” She arched her brows. “Though you also said that you wouldn’t be the one to satisfy my supposed ‘craving for wickedness.’ You were quite firm on that.”
He debated whether to be honest. But this would be hard enough without trying to wrap it up in a fancy—and utterly false—package. “I admit I wouldn’t have chosen to marry just yet.” He was still wary about joining himself to an innocent who would eventually expect something more than he could give.
Not to mention a persistent chit who might pry into his past until she unearthed his most humiliating secrets. He mustn’t let that happen. Bad enough that she would soon know about his way of life—that he kept busy during the night, slept until midafternoon, and then conducted his business or went to Parliament in the afternoon and early evening, when the world was still full of activity. She would already wonder about that.
But he couldn’t let her discover firsthand how difficult he could be, how the nightmares were getting more vivid over time. She would grow terrified of him.
Lords aren’t afraid of the dark. Buck up and be a man.
Or worse, regard him with contempt for his damned inability to get over his fears. He couldn’t stomach either response.
And she already distrusted men. He didn’t want to make that worse.
