Page 116 of To Pleasure a Prince
“And I suppose you’ve been staring at this the whole time.” She faced him with a scowl. “Your butler is right—itishorrible.”
He lifted the bottle of whisky in a silent toast. “ ‘Splendidly awful,’ to quote my wife.”
Tears gathered in her throat. She fought them ruthlessly. “I suppose you think it’s an apt representation ofyou.”
“Isn’t it?” With a hint of defiance, he swigged from the whisky bottle, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“No, it is not.” Walking up to examine the painting, she noted the blond woman lying at the dragon’s feet. On the picture frame below the figure was a gold plate with a title inscribed on it. Regina ran her fingers along it, which helped her read it. “And I suppose you see ‘the woman clothed in sun’ as me.”
“It fits you.” He blinked. “Wait a minute—how did you know the title?”
“I read it just now. While you were apparently spendingyourtime brooding in a dungeon, I was spending mine trying to learn something. And thanks to Katherine and Cicely, I have come a long way.” She shot him a hesitant smile. “I read a whole line from a poem this morning. All by myself.”
“That’s wonderful, dearling,” he said with heartfelt sincerity. Then his troubled frown returned. He set the bottle on the floor. “But that just proves how useless a husband I am to you. I couldn’t even teach you to read.”
His remorseful tone tore at her heart. “Teaching is not your particular strength, true. But without you, I could not have done it. Because you convinced me I could learn. Without your faith in me, I would never have even tried.”
She steadied herself before she turned into a puddle of mush in front of him. He did not need mush right now. “But that’s neither here nor there.” She glared at him. “Do you know what the trouble is with you?”
He eyed her warily. “I suspect you intend to tell me.”
“You’re damned right I do.” When he blinked at her un-ladylike language, she said, “The trouble with you is that your half-mad mother expected you to be the same ‘slobbering sycophant’ to His Highness that she was, and when you recoiled, she tried to force you into it.”
She blinked back tears, determined not to let him see them. “So to survive her machinations, you turned yourself into the dragon. Better that than a sycophant, right? Better that than becoming the equivalent of your whoring mother, begging for the prince’s attention.”
She strode up to him. “But youaren’tthe dragon, any more than I’m the ‘woman clothed in sun’ or the siren or even La Belle Dame Sans Merci. Yes, the dragon is a part of you, and the siren is certainly part of me.”
He’d risen to stare at her, and she pressed on ruthlessly. “But you’re more than that. You’re a fierce protector of the innocent. You’re a clever man with a taste for books.” Her breath caught in her throat. “You’re even a considerate lover, for all your talk about chaining women in the dungeon. And it’s time you stop letting the dragon rule your life.” Reaching up, she ran her finger along the thick line of his scar. “It’s time you put the dragon in his place.”
A low groan escaped his lips. “What if I don’t know how?”
“Of course you know how. I suspected it the day I met you, but I became convinced of it when I saw you walk into Almack’s so gloriously. You’re the Viscount Draker, a man of wealth and privilege, the son of a future king. You’re a prince, if not in name, then in character. If I had not seen the prince hidden beneath the dragon, I would never have let you kiss me or touch me…or marry me.” Her tears fell unheeded. “I certainly would never have fallen in love with you.”
Hope briefly lit his face. Then it died, and he shook his head stubbornly. “You say you love me now, but how long can it last? My own mother didn’t love me, Regina. How the hell could you?”
The aching pain in his voice ran so deep that she feared she could never take him past it. But she refused to let it win.
She caught his face between her hands. “Your mother did love you in her own way, I’m sure. How could she not? She simply didn’t know what to do with you. She was a will-o’-the-wisp trying to clasp a great, magnificent beast by the tail, and she couldn’t hold on.”
As tears filled his eyes, she looped her hands about his neck. “But I can hold on, my love. I can and I will. You will not shake me off, no matter what you do, no matter what you say. I willneverlet you bar the doors to me. Because La Belle Dame Sans Merci is part of me, too, and when it comes to you, I shall show no mercy. I will drag you out of the cave and into the light if it’s the last thing I do.”
Something broke inside him then, for with a groan, he crushed her to him. Then his mouth found hers, hard and achingly hungry. He tasted faintly of whisky and smelled like candle smoke and Marcus. Her Marcus.
He kissed her, deeply, thoroughly, as if trying to imprint her on his soul. Then he tore his lips from hers. “I’m sorry for what I said, dearling. God, you have no idea how sorry I am.” He brushed kisses to her cheeks, her eyelids, her nose. “I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll go to town whenever you please, or stay here if you wish. I’ll do anything you want, as long as you don’t leave me.”
“I’ll never leave you,” she said.As long as you love me.
Yet he had not said he loved her, had he? Some tiny part of him was still too afraid to trust her that far. Still, she truly believed he did love her. He just feared that if he said the words, she would own him. And he’d fought so long against having anyone, especially a woman, own him, that even now it was a struggle.
Which was why she meant to have the words from him tonight. And she could think of only one way he would let go of his fears enough to say them.
“Thereisone thing I want from you right now,” she told him.
“Anything,” he swore.
“Make love to me, Marcus.”
His eyes darkened. “Oh, yes. We’ll go upstairs—”
