Page 116 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
“I paid for them with money, Rose. What good is money if it is not spent?”
“But you had to spend so much. I know what I owed. It must have nearly cost you your last farthing.”
“You underestimate how heavy my pockets are.”
“I will make it up to you. Anything you want—”
He touched his thumb to her lips. “Tonight you can make it up to me by not mentioning what you owe me.”
She nodded. She would never be in debt to anyone more than she would be to him. “I’ll return the five thousand—”
“That was a different bargain. It’s yours.”
“I so misjudged you, Avendale.”
“I doubt it. Let’s get your hair washed, shall we?”
She’d expected him to call for Edith. Instead he set the plate aside, moved in behind her and washed it himself, slowly massaging her scalp as he did so. She wished she could eliminate the guilt she felt for all he had spent on her behalf. Perhaps it would help if she told him that she loved him, but would he believe her? Knowing how much she owed him, that her debt to him was now one that could never be repaid, would he think she was merely spouting words, striving to flatter him, to bestow upon him a false gift?
Did he truly love her, or had the words been spoken in haste? Did he regret saying them, especially when she’d said such cruel things to him?
“I didn’t mean it,” she said quietly.
His fingers stilled, and he moved around until she could look into his eyes, and waited.
“When I said it had all been a swindle,” she continued. “That I’d been running from you. It was a lie. As I was stepping out of the coach, I saw Tinsdale. I was running from him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”
She shook her head. “Embarrassment. Shame. I never talked about my past because I didn’t want you to know the awful things I’d done. But now you know. I don’t know why you didn’t leave me to rot.”
He cupped her chin, skimmed his thumb along the soft edge. “You know why.”
“You said you loved me and I threw it in your face. Yet still you saved me. You have no reason to trust me, no reason to believe me, not after all the lies. But I’ve fallen madly in love with you, and that’s why—”
His mouth, his wonderful luscious mouth claimed hers with a fierceness that should have frightened her, but only served to fan the flames of her desire. She wanted him, every inch of him. She wanted to touch and taste, stroke and lick. So many nights she had tossed and turned, thinking of him. From the moment she’d fleeced her first gent, she’d known she’d eventually pay for her crimes, but having known Avendale, the harshness of her punishment had seemed to increase tenfold. Knowing him had turned into a blessing and then a curse ... and ended as a blessing.
He had saved her from more than prison. He had delivered her from a lifetime of regret where Harry was concerned. All the lovely moments they’d shared, all the experiences she would never have given him. Avendale had rescued her from a lonely existence. Life with him would never be dull. They would make passionate love often, wildly and madly. They would visit gaming hells and play cards. They would gamble, wager with each other, laugh, and talk.
For as long as he wanted. Unfortunately, she also knew that as long as he wanted would never be long enough for her. She would never want to leave him, never want to let him go. She would relish each day, but she would also end each with the bittersweet knowledge that it might be her last. That any morning he could awaken and decide he no longer loved her. Another had claimed love for her and turned away. Avendale might as well, someday.
But for tonight she was here. His wet hands were caressing her slick skin. The sensations began to build and she latched her mouth back onto his. His tongue delved deeply, claimed and conquered. He could conquer her so easily, and yet each time he did felt like her own victory.
He tore his mouth from hers. “Your skin is covered in chill bumps.”
When had the water gone cold? “Doesn’t matter.”
“It matters. I’ve been without you for twenty-seven days—”
“You counted,” she stated, both surprised and pleased.
He grinned. “It seems you did as well.” He skimmed his fingers over her face. “I don’t intend for us to spend our time together tonight with you shivering and catching your death.”
He helped her out of the water. Her heart nearly broke with his gentleness as he patted the towel over her body. Then he lifted her into his arms, carried her into the bedchamber, and set her on the bed in a manner that barely stirred the sheets. So unlike the first time he’d tossed her there.
“I won’t break,” she said as he removed his clothes. So many times she had tortured herself with images of his nude body. It was comforting now as she realized that she had been able to recall him exactly as he was: every perfection, every imperfection. The corded sinewy muscles of his arms and legs. A small blemish on his left shoulder. A mole resting just below his right rib. His broad chest, his firm back. His taut buttocks.
“I’m well aware,” he murmured as he stretched out beside her. “I’ve never known a woman as strong as you. I wanted to shake you when you wouldn’t give me the names.”
