Again her heart began to race. “What is it?” She licked her dry lips.
He withdrew a beautiful black onyx ring with over a dozen small diamonds surrounding it from his pocket. She regarded him with raised eyebrows.
&nbs
p; “A betrothal ring from the Huntington family jewel collection.”
14
Hunt’s stomach dropped as Diana continued to stare at the ring as if it possessed the power to destroy her. “Is something wrong?”
She jumped up. “I thought the plan was to court for a while and then discuss a betrothal.”
He reached up and pulled her back down alongside him. “Diana, you have been compromised. Again. And what of my honor? When the situation happened with Lord Stratford last year you escaped to Italy, but he was shunned for quite a while for not doing the honorable thing.”
“Why? He tried to get me to marry him, but since that was his plan all along—to compromise me—I refused. But he did offer, so he should not have been shunned.”
“It matters not, Diana. You were both involved in the scandal and, although the man’s part in it is never as serious as the woman’s they still feel the brunt of the ton turning their backs on them.”
“I see.” She stiffened and glared at him. “First it was a necessity for us to marry, and now it’s about your honor. Quite romantic. I’m afraid you need lessons, my lord, in how to woo a young lady.”
Hunt slumped and ran his fingers through his hair. He replayed in his mind why he had decided Diana was the best woman for him. It was inevitable. From the time he first rescued her from a tree with a dog snapping at her heels, to stealing the portrait, he’d known deep inside that despite his desire to have a biddable, demure, never-a-scandal wife, Diana was the one who had always held his heart.
However, given the circumstances in which they found themselves, she would never believe it. The simple fact was she didn’t trust him and, given his attitude toward her, she had good reason. If he wanted a happy wife—and he would have Diana—one who didn’t feel like a penance, it was up to him to convince her.
He reached over and took her hands in his. “My insistence on marriage is much more than a necessity, or my honor.” He squeezed her hands as she made an unladylike sound and attempted to pull her hands away. “I know you don’t believe that and, given our history, I don’t blame you. Therefore, I ask that you wear this ring, not as an official betrothal, but the need to stem further gossip and nasty comments when we go out and about in Society.
“And, going out and about in Society is vital if we’re to save both our reputations. However, I know what our plan is, you know what it is—to wait and see if we suit, or whatever it is that is holding you back, but that will remain our secret. To the world, we are a happily engaged couple.” He held the ring out once more. “Will you wear it under those conditions?”
Diana looked down at the ring and then back at him again. Something in his eyes must have touched her since her demeanor shifted and she offered him a slight smile. “You can be quite the eloquent speaker when the situation calls for it, my lord.” She chewed on her lower lip for a few moments. “Very well. I will accept the ring under those conditions.”
He slid it on her finger. The ring was a tad big, but he would have it adjusted. Right now he was merely grateful that she’d accepted.
He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Perhaps a kiss to seal our betrothal?”
“Pretend betrothal,” she returned.
He smiled at her stubbornness and reached out to cup her chin. Her skin was soft, like satin petals on a rose. He leaned in and gently touched his lips to hers. She didn’t pull back, so he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, taking the kiss deeper.
Nudging her lips, his tongue swept in, teasing, tasting, taking possession. A slight moan from Diana had him pulling back, kissing the soft skin under her ear, along her jaw and neck. “So sweet.”
She pressed closer, her breasts crushed against his chest. In her naivety, she was unaware of how her moans and movements were nudging him past where he planned to stop. “I want you, Diana. I have for so long.”
She shook her head. “Not true. You’ve thought of me as the plague for years.”
“I love plagues.” He returned to her mouth, his hand sliding up her ribs to cup her breast. There wasn’t much he could do with her layers of clothing hampering him, but she picked that moment to pull back anyway.
They were both panting, and her face was flushed. She cleared her throat and patted her hair. “I believe it is time to leave.”
Since she was right, and he shouldn’t be leading her down the path where marriage would be inevitable instead of necessary, he stood and held out his hand.
And sat right back down when he realized the bit of passion they’d shared had awakened body parts of which he did not want her aware. Not yet, at least.
“Finish your drink.” He motioned to her glass and downed his own drink. Since Diana sipped at hers, it gave him enough time to recover his dignity to stand and appear the gentleman.
* * *
Diana turned as Hunt placed the rose-colored lace shawl that matched her gown over her shoulders. Her breathing had finally returned to normal, but she was still shaken by their kiss.