The Marquess (50 page)
“I’ve come to offer you a proposition,”
she said almost shyly. He’d never seen her shy.
He took the papers and set them on a nightstand. “If
the offer includes you, I accept,” he murmured, brushing her cheek with
his lips. He’d be a fool to deny himself that small opportunity. When
Dillian didn’t protest, he raised his hands to her curls. They were every
bit as rich and silky as he remembered.
“You don’t even know what the offer is,”
she protested as he trapped his hand in her hair and tilted her face so he
could reach her lips with more ease.
“If it includes you and a few lifetimes, who am I to object?
I don’t ask for anything more.” He was drunk on her closeness.
She took his kiss with the eagerness he remembered so well,
and he nearly melted into a puddle of hot wax. She had the power to do that to
him, to reduce him to nothing with just the heat of her kiss. He would do
anything to keep her here.
Catching his breath, Gavin pushed away enough to think
again. He could see the desire burning in her eyes. She wasn’t here
against her will. She wanted this as much as he did. But did she want as much as
he wanted?
“Are you offering me a lifetime?” he asked,
studying her expression with the experience learned at the hands of cruelty. He
didn’t feel deserving of her wit or beauty, but he wouldn’t deny
himself the opportunity of asking if she allowed it. “I threw out the
vinegar and sponges. I don’t want that anymore.”
She bit her bottom lip and doubt flickered in her eyes. “Does
that mean you don’t want me? I thought, if nothing else…” She
made a helpless gesture.
Gavin’s eyes lit with unholy glee. “You thought
I might stop wanting you? Are you out of your mind? What proof do you require
of my desire?”
She gave his expression a suspicious look, then glanced down
at his lap. If she needed any proof of his desire, she could see it there
easily enough. He was as rigid as a fence post. He loved the way her cheeks
burned red when she met his eyes.
“You could have come after me,” she said with
annoyance.
“And what would I have offered you when I did?”
Gavin threw his arm out to indicate their surroundings. “One bedchamber
and a pile of crumbling stones? A penniless title? I’ll not have you live
the life my mother led, or the one your father left you to. I would give you a
roof without holes, walls that won’t crumble, the knowledge that the
children we create will have a home and support for a lifetime.
“I can’t do that yet. I’m working on it. I
can’t ask you to marry me until I can truthfully promise that I can take
care of you. You’re offering me temptation right now far beyond my
ability to resist.” His gaze dropped longingly to the swell of her bosom
beneath the clinging silk.
Dillian leaned forward, deliberately emphasizing the arch of
her breasts, defying him not to touch her. “Then, don’t resist. You
didn’t give me your child last time, Gavin Lawrence. Give me one this
time.”
Dillian saw the blatant longing in his face, the war of
desire and honor in his eyes. She was being cruel by forcing him to choose one
over the other, but she wanted to know he desired her before she gave him what
he required. She had thought to trade herself for the deeds, but she really
wanted his love.
Gavin’s gaze met and held hers in such a manner that she
stopped breathing.
“I’ll not tumble you like a whore again,
Dillian. I love you too much for that. I want you for my wife. I want you to
learn to love me as much as I love you. After what I’ve done, I know it
won’t be easy. I’ll work hard to earn your respect. That’s
what I’ve been trying to do. If you had any idea of what this is costing
me to keep my hands off you ….”
Lord, she loved this man. He talked of honor and respect
when they both burned like flaming torches. Rising to her knees, Dillian indulged
in the sensual pleasure of caressing his hair. When Gavin instinctively reached
for her waist, she slid into his lap and sprinkled kisses against his bare
shoulder. He smelled of male sweat and musk, and she tasted his skin in her
hunger for his touch. She heard him groan, and his hands clenched tighter.
She’d have to release him from his torment so she could have all that she
wanted.
“I’ll bring the deeds as dowry,” she
murmured into his ear. “All you need do is promise to love me forever, as
I will love you. This ruin can collapse around our heads. We can raise our
children in the fields. I don’t give a fig. Just tell me you love me, and
I’m yours.”
He didn’t stop for explanations. He pushed her down on
the bed and covered her with his body. “I love you, Dillian. I loved you
before, I love you now, I’ll love you for all our tomorrows. Don’t
ever go away again.” In the gentle luster of candlelight they pledged
their vows to each other more surely than if they stood in church.
Only when the last candle guttered out and the fire died to
embers did he raise up in the darkness and leaning on his elbow over her, ask
quizzically, “Deeds?”
Dillian’s wild trill of laughter convinced the
servants all over again that The Lady walked, only this time, the apparition
laughed instead of wept. Surely, that was a sign of hope and a promise for
tomorrow.
About Patricia Rice
With several million books in print and
New York Times
and
USA
Today’s
bestseller lists under her belt, former CPA Patricia Rice is one
of romance’s hottest authors. Her emotionally-charged contemporary and
historical romances have won numerous awards, including the
RT Book Reviews
Reviewers Choice and Career
Achievement Awards. Her books have been honored as Romance Writers of America
RITA® finalists in the historical, regency and contemporary categories.
A firm believer in happily-ever-after, Patricia Rice is
married to her high school sweetheart and has two children. A native of
Kentucky and New York, a past resident of North Carolina, she currently resides
in St. Louis, Missouri, and now does accounting only for herself. She is a
member of Romance Writers of America, the Authors Guild, and Novelists, Inc.
For further information, visit Patricia’s network:
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The Marquess
Patricia Rice
Book View Café edition: June 12, 2012
Copyright © 1997 by Patricia Rice
ISBN: 978-1-61138-173-3
First published by Topaz
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Sample ChapterThe English Heiress
Book View Café Edition
July 10, 2012
ISBN: 978-1-61138-153-5
Copyright © 2012 Patricia Rice
www.bookviewcafe.com
England, March, 1819
“Owning the most extensive pistol collection in the
world won’t feed your tenants, Aubry.” Bored, Michael O’Toole
leaned against a window frame and shifted his attention from Squire Aubry to a
lamb gamboling in the field. “Prélat’s newest percussion pistol
might kill a man at fifty paces, but it’s useless for shooting fowl.”
“A man has the right to protect himself in these
uncertain times!” his portly host blustered as he passed his
newly-acquired weapon to a more appreciative guest.
“If a man surrounds himself with friends instead of
enemies, he would have no need to protect himself.” Idly, O’Toole
juggled silver pieces between his fingers, assuming interest in coins and
gamboling lambs.
A smart man would have heeded Michael’s warning rather
than his aloofness.
Beyond the high hedge shielding the lambs stood tenant
houses with leaking thatch and mildewed walls and children running barefoot
wiping runny noses—while the owner of the houses stood in his elegant
room, bragging of his expensive weaponry.
O’Toole curled his lip in open derision as one of the
guests asked if he might test a fowling piece. Collectors did not use their
collections. They merely acquired and admired them. A fourth coin materialized
amid the ones spinning between his fingers. He listened to the whispers about
him but gave no indication that he heard, or cared.
