Desire (Notorious 3)

“Why do you say so?”

“Because I am not easy in society. I am known as a recluse. And I am indeed a bluestocking, just as you accused me of being. I am considered unconventional, even ungenteel. I regularly help my brother-” She stopped herself, apparently reconsidering her admission.

“Those are crimes indeed,” he murmured.

Her chin rose at the teasing note in his voice. “Laugh if you will, my lord, but I assure you, I would not make you a comfortable wife.”

No, comfortable was not a word he would use to describe her, nor, come to think of it, was wife. Rather she was like a prize courtesan, one who made him think of tumbled silk sheets, of hot, exquisite wildness. He had only to look at her and he wanted to stir that wildness.

“I am not interested in comfort…” Lucian began, then caught himself. “Or if I am, it’s an entirely different sort of comfort. I think you’ll suffice on that score. I’ve kissed you-more than once. I have no doubt you could make a satisfactory bed partner.”

Her ivory cheeks took on a becoming flush, although she didn’t seem to have a ready answer. Finally she adopted a look of cool indifference. “I should think you would want a chaste bride, Lord Wycliff. If so, you will be disappointed in me. I have a well-earned reputation for promiscuity.”

He fixed his gaze on her mouth, remembering the luscious taste of it, the innocence. “Somehow I think you are stretching the truth again.”

Her flush deepened. “Well, it is not stretching the truth to say I don’t wish to have you for my husband. I have no desire to wed a libertine.”

“I think you’ll find my reputation highly exaggerated.”

“You are a founding member of the Hellfire League, are you not? A band of noblemen notorious for their scandalous exploits.”

“I engaged in a few scandals in my reckless youth, I admit, but my exploits have been far tamer in recent years.”

“Forgive me if I find that hard to credit,” she said tartly.

“I can provide you with countless character references, if you wish,” Lucian answered, unable to stem his amusement.

“No doubt.”

Taking a measured breath, she regarded him with a frown, as if searching her mind for other arguments to use against him. “I understand that you make your home in London. I am not fond of London.”

“Have you even been there?”

“Twice. Although it was a number of years ago,” she added reluctantly, as if compelled to be strictly honest.

“Twice isn’t sufficient for a fair test.”

“Perhaps not, but I like living in the country.”

“My family seat is in Devonshire and is charmingly bucolic.”

“I prefer Cornwall, the sea…”

“I have a castle in Wales with a spectacular view of the sea.”

She pressed her lips together, as if striving for control, which merely made him want to shake it loose. He wanted to slide his hands around her waist and bury his mouth against hers, to explore her, to seek out all the enticing places where her silky, delicate heat flared and burned.

“Well, none of this is to the point,?

? Brynn said finally. “I cannot wed you because I cannot leave here. I will not abandon Theo.”

“But if he were to go away to school? Eton, Harrow, Westminster?”

There was a moment of prolonged silence. He could tell by the sudden tilt of her chin that he had struck a nerve.

“That is exceedingly underhanded of you,” she said at last, her frustration evident, “to offer such a bribe.”

“It is exceedingly common, as well as practical,” he contradicted gently. “Particularly for a lady in your circumstances. Marriage in exchange for a fortune and title.”