Page 53 of About a Rogue
“All true,” he said with a smile. He was still very close to her.
“What else is there?” she pressed.
“People who drink too much,” he replied. “All manner of scoundrels. There is a spirit of... permissiveness that you might find shocking.”
“I expected all of London to be filled with scoundrels,” she said frankly. “It’s not been nearly as bad as I thought.”
He laughed. “Then we shall go, my dear.” He paused, as if waiting, then prompted, “Are you pleased?”
“Yes.”
“Say it,” he whispered.
Heat rolled through her. “Yes, Max.”
He looked at her with a heavy-lidded gaze that made her feel like she might burst into flame. “I like to hear it. Say it again.”
“It’s just a name,” she tried to say.
“Bianca.”
The way he said her name caused a physical twinge of response in her belly. She wet her lips, and noticed how avidly he watched. “Max,” she breathed.
“Yes,” he said as his mouth touched hers.
Bianca wasn’t sure who had moved toward whom this time. She was fully aware that her hands had come up onto his chest, and that she was leaning into him. His hand settled lightly on her waist, and she felt it in her toes.
“This is not what I expected,” she whispered, her whole body throbbing as his lips skimmed over her jaw to her ear.
“Why not?” he rasped. His teeth nipped lightly at her earlobe, making her quiver.
“Because I don’t like you.” She was barely aware of what she said.
“Not even a little bit?” His hand was on her back, easing her closer to him—not that she needed much encouragement. His other hand threaded into her hair.
Bianca couldn’t stop a little sigh of contentment. He was kissing her neck and it might be making her melt. “You know I don’t want to...”
He hummed in disappointment. “I wish you did.” He brushed a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Atleasta little bit.”
She dragged her eyes open. He was so close, so dark, so wretchedly beautiful. Some of her sense resurfaced. “You didn’t want to marry me. You proposed to marry Cathy. It’s not me you wanted at all.”
His dark eyes glittered. “You think I don’t want you?” With a sudden tug he pulled her against him. “If I hadn’t wanted you, I would have said no in the sacristy.”
She laid her fingers on his lips, forestalling any more kisses for the moment. “Do you mean that?”
A frown creased his brow. “Yes.”
“Why did you want to marry Cathy?”
His grip on her loosened. Bianca waited. “I thought... it was to be a marriage of business convenience. Your father has no son to inherit the business—”
“He has two daughters,” she began hotly, but he put up one hand.
“Two daughters who might eventually marry, putting the business into the hands of someone other than a Tate. In my visit to Perusia I sensed that Miss Tate, your sister, has no desire to direct and lead Perusia.” His gaze was serious and steady, as if urging her to believe him. “Ido. I can help Perusia succeed and prosper for years to come. I hope you agree with that, after our time in London. So I offered marriage to your sister, proposing not just a business partnership but a promise of protection and care for your father’s daughters.”
Well... perhaps that wasn’t so coldhearted and mercenary as she’d thought. And Bianca could not deny that he’d demonstrated value and commitment to Perusia in everything he’d done in London. “That doesn’t mean you wanted to marryme.”
“I am fiercely pleased to be married to you,” he said in a low voice.
