Page 25 of The Vagabond Viscount
“Alright, Flynn. You can have five minutes, and not a minute more. Come with me. I know this house well, and it has several small rooms where we can retire to speak in private.” She glanced down at his hand. “You can let go of my arm. I don’t need you to steer me.”
With Flynn following close behind, Augusta made her way out of the supper room and toward a long hallway. At the end, she turned right, then made a second and even sharper right turn into a small sitting room. It was one of those little nooks that could be so easily missed as you rounded the corner.
Flynn did miss the room. Out of the corner of her eye, Augusta caught a glimpse of him as he flashed by. A grunt of surprise, then a huff of “Right,” finally had him joining her. He closed the door behind him.
Augusta marched over to the window. She wanted to maintain a degree of distance between them. There was safety in remaining at least a foot or two away from Flynn. It had been hard enough for her to keep her composure when he touched her arm—she didn’t need him to do that again.
“Now what do you want to say?” she said, turning to face him.
It came out as harsh as she intended. She was in agony over him. Why shouldn’t he also feel some of her pain?
Flynn moved quickly across the floor, and before she had time to protest, he had swept Augusta into his embrace and his lips were on hers.
There was nothing tender or sweet about the kiss. It was powerful, commanding. A statement of claim. His tongue brushed past her teeth and at the first touch of it against her own tongue, Augusta let out a groan.
Her hands went to the sides of his jacket, and she clung to him tightly. If he thought to move away, she had him held fast. But as Flynn deepened the kiss, it was clear he had no intention of going anywhere.
She sighed as he cupped the nape of her neck, the warmth of his hands sending a shiver of lust down her spine.
I shouldn’t be doing this—we are finished.
Her sensible self was crying ‘no’ but her heart spoke louder.Yes.Yes.
The kiss continued, and Flynn settled into a rhythm of working his lips over hers. Augusta was certain her bones had all but melted and she would fall to the floor if either of them dared to let go.
I can’t live without him.
“Augusta. Forgive me. I was a fool. I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I am going to speak to your father.”
He murmured these words in between kisses. She caught most of them, but her brain was too scattered to take much of them in. His actions were speaking louder than anything, and that was all she wanted. All she craved.
When he finally did release her from his kiss, Augusta stood panting, staring up at him through glazed eyes. “What happened. What made you change your mind?”
“I didn’t change my mind; I’ve always wanted you. But I wasn’t lying when I said my life was complicated. The only lie was me trying to convince myself that I could live without you. I don’t care what my father does—I will give it all up in order to marry you. If you will have me.”
“I love you, Flynn. And if you feel enough for me, then we can find a way for this to work. All I ask is that you are truthful with me. Why is your father so set against me? Is it because he won’t be able to get his hands on my dowry?” Her gaze searched his, seeking an answer. “Because that is what my mother seems to think.”
Flynn’s expression turned dark. “Did you really speak to the duchess about us? Is that why you called things off?”
His words were an odd mixture of fearful interest. They didn’t fill Augusta with a sense of hope. “In a way I did. I posed the question of why a noble family would not find me suitable. Apart from being outraged that anyone would think her daughter less than a prize catch, she suggested it wasn’t me that was the issue but rather the terms of my marriage settlement.”
“And that if your future husband’s family tried to get their hands on a large portion of the money, they were going to be disappointed?”
“Exactly. Is that why your father is against us marrying? Please, Flynn, I have to know.” She was done with half-truths. If he was serious about a future with her, she had to know everything. Starting with his father.
His hand settled easily about her waist, his thumb stroking up and down her spine. Flynn sighed. “My father loathes me. That is clear to anyone. What I have never told you is that he has made it his life’s mission to make certain I am miserable. He controls everything. And if I marry, that will also go for my wife. He will do everything to seize my bride’s dowry. But because of who you are and your family, he wouldn’t be able to manage that so easily. You, Augusta my love, would be a sharp thorn in his side. One he couldn’t seek to influence without having to make major concessions. The earl would hate that more than you can possibly imagine.”
She sensed there was more to the story than just her dowry. Why, for instance, did he always refer to his father as ‘the earl’? There was no love lost between Flynn and his sire, and she couldn’t understand why. She was going to get to the heart of things before Flynn put a wedding ring on her finger.
I owe it to our future children. Children who cannot be raised in poverty.
“What are we going to do? If the earl controls your family purse strings, how are we to make a life together? We can’t possibly live with him at Bramshaw House.”
Sweet thoughts of happily ever after were swept aside as her mother’s words of caution came back to mind. She wasn’t meant for a life lacking in wealth. Nor for a man to control her life like Earl Bramshaw did with Flynn.
“I’ve some plans I am working through, and hopefully in the next day I should have a clearer idea as to how they will be accomplished. But no, we won’t be living with the earlever.”
“After that, will you speak to my father?”
