My Brown-Eyed Earl (31 page)

“Need you.” Her body arched toward him, aching from desire.

But he took his time, suckling her through a layer of silk lace and stroking her slick entrance until she was dizzy with wanting.

“You and I, Meg,” he whispered seductively, “we are perfectly matched. No one else makes me feel like you do. And I know just what you like, too.” His wicked fingers demonstrated his meaning, caressing the spot that brought her the most pleasure and bringing her closer and closer to pure bliss.

She heard herself begging as her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Please, Will. I need you. Oh God … oh…”

With a growl, he thrust inside, filling her perfectly. He speared his hands through her hair and rocked his hips in a rhythm that drove her mad. Doubts and uncertainties may have lurked in the back of her mind, but they were no match for the solid weight of him lying atop her and the delicious feel of his hair tickling her neck. Her body responded to him as it always did, and she hurtled toward the abyss, crying out as they came together in an exquisite, soul-shattering release.

They drifted off after that, their legs tangled and his arm draped across her waist. Never before had she felt so safe, so content, so … loved.

But when she woke a couple hours later, a chill skittered down her spine. She reached behind her and patted the cold mattress. “Will?”

“It's all right.” He stood by the window, gazing down into the garden wearing only his trousers. “I'm here.”

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Why are you out of bed?”

He gave a hollow laugh. “If I stayed there beside you, I would have taken you again.”

Her pulse quickened and she stretched a hand toward him. “Come back.”

Regret plain on his face, he shook his head. “We do need to talk, Meg.”

She shuddered again, but not because of the cold. She'd known this time would come—the time when they'd have to face hard truths, and she could delay it no longer. “Yes, of course.” She tucked the blanket beneath her arms, turned up the lamp on the table next to her, and steeled herself for whatever he would say.

As though he didn't trust himself to stand too close to her, he leaned against the post at the foot of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. “Yesterday, I learned something about your past—
our
pasts, really. I think it's important that you know.”

 

Chapter
THIRTY-FOUR

 

“My past?” Meg swallowed. When the past was filled with grief, guilt, and loss, one expended a great deal of energy attempting to
avoid
thinking about it.

Will nodded. “I've discovered a secret, and while it can't change the events that happened, it may shed some light on them.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. What if she was happy to remain in the dark? She suspected the secret had to do with her parents, and new information about them was likely to reopen the wound from their deaths. “Are you certain it's necessary?” she asked. “Some secrets are best left untold.”

“Maybe, but I thought you'd want to know the truth—especially since it has some bearing on your current situation.”

“You're speaking in riddles.” She blew out a breath, exasperated, but Will was right. Deep down, she
needed
to know the truth. “Very well. Tell me.”

“I was going through some of my father's things and found a promissory note. It seems he owed a large gambling debt—to your father.”

Meg frowned. “To Papa? Are you sure? I never knew him to play cards.”

“I don't know what they bet on, exactly, only that the stakes were high. My father owed yours—ten thousand pounds.”

Her chin dropped. “That's impossible. My father had a very modest income.”

Will sat on the edge of the bed, his tousled hair gleaming in the moonlight. “Then he must have been a very shrewd gambler.”

But that did not fit with her memories of Papa, who had spent most afternoons visiting the sick and most evenings reading the Bible. It was possible he'd had some hidden vices, but ten thousand pounds was not the sort of bet one made on a casual game of loo.

“I inherited my father's estate and, with it, his debts,” Will said soberly. “I owe you and your sisters ten thousand pounds.”

Dear God. It was an amount too great to fathom. Had they known about it, it could have changed the course of their lives. “Forgive me, but I find it all rather difficult to believe. It's a fascinating story, to be sure, but with both our fathers gone, it's likely we'll never know the truth.”

“I have the IOU, Meg. I spoke to my mother about it, too. She confirmed it's true.”

She felt a little stab of betrayal. “You spoke to your mother about this, but not me?”

“I'm telling you now,” he said softly, “and there's more. Our fathers agreed to an alternate form of payment.”

“I don't understand.” Suddenly cold, she began to shake. “What sort of payment?”

“Your father agreed to forgive the debt if—”

“No.” Hands trembling, she covered her ears. But it was too late. She knew what Will was going to say—and it broke her heart.

In an instant he was at her side, trying to comfort her, but she ducked out of his embrace. “Please, don't,” she begged.

“I'm sorry. I didn't realize this news would upset you so.”

She blinked, aghast. “You didn't realize it would hurt me to know that my father thought he had to pay
ten thousand pounds
to the boy next door in order to marry me off?”

“To be clear,” Will said, “he wasn't offering to pay
me
, merely to forgive my father's debt.”

“It is the same thing,” she spat. “It seems everyone involved in the deal had a rather low opinion of me.”

“Meg,” he said softly, “I don't think that's true at all. Your father simply wanted the best possible future for you.”

“And my best possible future was marriage to
you
?” With a snort, she leaped out of bed, snatched her robe off of the chair, and stuffed her arms into it.

He shrugged his impossibly broad shoulders in a most vexing manner. “You could do worse.”

“Your arrogance, my lord, is truly amazing.”

“We're back to
my lord
?” Shaking his head, he gave a hollow laugh. “Why do you insist on blaming
me
for a deal struck by our fathers?”

“Because
you're
the one who brought it to my attention and … and because you're blind to the offensiveness of it.” She tied her wrapper tightly around her and paced the side of the room farthest from him.

“I was just as much a pawn in this charade as you were,” he said.

“Men are never pawns in the same way that women are. You were the heir to an earldom. Even if you had been forced to marry me—a fate I saved you from, by the way—you would have been free to pursue your own life, your own pleasures. I'm sure you would have had a mistress or two.”

He speared his hands through his hair, frustration plain on his face. “Now you're condemning me for hypothetical mistresses?”

Very well, perhaps she'd gone too far. “I'm only trying to explain why our situations were so very different.
My
future was almost decided by the turn of a card, without any consideration for my wishes or feelings. I would have been trapped in a loveless sham of a marriage for the rest of my life.”

The hurt look that crossed his face made her instantly regret her words. “Do you truly think our marriage would have been loveless?” he asked.

She threw up her hands. “We were young and foolish, Will. Neither of us knew anything about love.”

“And now?” His brown eyes had never looked more vulnerable. But she had everything to lose—including her heart.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, she said, “It is a moot point.”

“What if it isn't?” He approached carefully, like a hunter tracking a deer.

“I don't take your meaning.” In no mood for games, she stepped back, needing some distance between them.

“In the last couple of weeks, I've come to care for you deeply,” he began.

Oh no. She knew what he was going to say and wanted nothing more than to freeze the words on his lips. “I care for you, too,” she said, “but we both knew this relationship would eventually have to end.”

“I don't think it does, Meg.” He reached for her hands and clasped them tenderly between his own. “I understand that you want to determine your own future and make your own choices … so I'm giving you a choice now.”

Swallowing, she closed her eyes. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. It probably wasn't supposed to happen at all. “You don't have to—”

“I'm not doing anything because I
have
to, damn it.” He looked down at their hands before meeting her gaze again. “Allow me to finish. I
want
to marry you, and not out of obligation. I'd planned to ask you even before I learned of the debt.”

He
wanted
to marry her? Or had he merely convinced himself that he did out of a misplaced sense of honor? Either way, it was a
proposal
—not the most romantic sort perhaps, but her chest squeezed nonetheless. After all, wallflowers could hardly expect bouquets and poetry.

And they most certainly could not expect declarations of love.

Which was just as well, since she could not possibly accept his proposal.

“Will, I—”

“Please, wait. I said that you have a choice. If you do not wish to marry me”—his voice grew rough—“I will, of course, honor my father's debt. I want you to know that, no matter your decision, you, your sisters, and your uncle will be provided for.” Slowly, he raised her hands to his lips and kissed them. “I want you to be my wife, but your future will not be determined by what
I
want. And it won't be determined by what your parents wanted or by your dire financial straits. Your future will be determined solely by
you
.”

The room tilted and her fingers went numb. Yes, she'd wanted to control her own destiny, but neither of his options felt like true choices.

It wasn't that she didn't want him for a husband. Lord save her, she did, with all her heart. But to marry Will after her initial rejection of him—which had directly led to her parents' deaths—seemed like the ultimate betrayal. How could she live with herself, knowing that if she'd simply obeyed Papa and Mama's wishes eight years ago, she'd be happily married to Will and her parents would be alive and well today?

And while the ten thousand pounds would solve many problems for her family, it felt an awful lot like blood money—a windfall that would never have come her way but for her parents' deaths.

She had to wonder, too, whether Will would have insisted on paying the debt if she and he hadn't … if they hadn't made love. The very idea that the money might be compensation for their intimate relationship … well, it made her stomach roil.

Pulling away, she pressed a palm to her forehead.

His brows knitted. “Are you all right?”

No.
“Yes, it's all just a bit overwhelming.”

“I … I thought you'd be happy,” he said. “I'd hoped we would be celebrating our engagement.”

“I'm not suited for this life.” She flung a hand at the elegant bedchamber.

“A life with me? Of course you are.”

“Your mother would never approve of me. Nor would half the ton.”

He shrugged. “Then we shall have to change their minds.”

Dear God, her belly was in knots. “I'm sorry that I can't give you an answer right now. I'm afraid I need some time to think.”

His face fell. “I understand. You may take as much time as you need. But don't push me away.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “An hour ago we laid together in that bed, as close as two people can be. Nothing's changed since then.”

Oh, but it had. She'd just learned that her own father had wagered her like she was a breeding mare. Then Will's proposal had jarred her out of the fantasy world she'd been living in, forcing her to take stock of what they'd done and to somehow reconcile it with her past. “The twins are going home tomorrow, and so am I.”

“I wish you wouldn't, Meg. Stay a few days at least—so we can sort this all out.” His heavy-lidded eyes pleaded with her, and he sidled closer. “You belong here, with me.”

“I'm not certain where I belong,” she said hoarsely. “I promise to consider all you've said, but I think I'd like to be alone for a while now.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line. While he silently pulled on his boots and wrestled with his shirt, she tried to keep her knees from wobbling.

“I'll leave you now,” he said, “but think about this. You and I are good together—and not just in bed. If you gave us a chance, we could be
great
together.”

Her cheeks burned. She could not deny that they were well-matched in passion.

He stalked to the door and gripped the knob, frustration written plain on his face. “I don't know why you're upset, but I do know that if you trusted me, we could face anything together. I swear to you, Meg, if you say yes, I'll make you happy—or die trying.” As he quietly left her room, his words echoed in her head.

She believed that he wanted to make her happy.

She even believed that with him, she could be.

But she'd once rejected him and sent her parents on a chase that led to their sudden, pointless, and tragic deaths. Maybe a girl who'd do something like that didn't
deserve
to be happy.

 

Chapter
THIRTY-FIVE

 

“Pardon the interruption, my lord. Miss Lacey wondered if you might have a trunk to spare for the twins' belongings. They came with nothing but the frocks they wore and a small satchel of clothes to share between the two of them. Now they have a closetful of dresses—thanks to you.” Mrs. Lundy smiled approvingly.