Desire (Notorious 3)

Wycliff could so easily become carried away. And what if she couldn’t resist him? His mere touch affected her more than anyone else’s had ever done. She could be a terrible danger to him if she fell for his practiced seduction.

The sun was low on the horizon when the duke and duchess took their leave, signaling the end of the festivities. Shortly, Brynn found herself sitting at the bridal table alone except for her new husband and her oldest brother. Theo had long since grown bored with the proceedings and escaped to his laboratory.

When Grayson rose to embrace her, Brynn had to fight against the ache of tears, knowing this might be one of the last times she would see him in a great while. She clung to him for an extra moment, drawing on his strength.

Gray kissed her cheek, then stepped back, his gaze fixed on Wycliff, his expression intent. “You will take care of my sister?” he asked, his tone solemn to the point of grimness.

“I won’t harm her, I promise you,” Wycliff answered easily.

Grayson shifted his gaze to Brynn, who stood awkwardly beside her new husband. “If you need me, you have only to call.”

She forced a smile. “I shall keep that in mind.”

Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, Gray pressed another kiss on her temple and took his leave.

“Your brother is quite protective of you,” Wycliff remarked when they were alone.

“For good reason.”

“I have no intention of ravishing you, Brynn.”

“So you say,” she muttered in a low voice. “I only hope you can remember your honorable intentions when the time comes.”

Wycliff didn’t respond to her obvious concern. Instead, to her surprise, he motioned to the manservant who was hovering at the terrace doors.

“Thank you, Pendry,” he said when the servant presented him with a slim, flat box.

He waited until they were alone again before handing the box to Brynn. “For you, my lady. A wedding gift,” he said in response to her quizzical glance.

Brynn accepted the box warily and nearly gasped when she opened it. Inside was an exquisite array of emerald jewelry set in gold-necklace, bracelet, and ear bobs.

“Emeralds to match your beautiful eyes,” Wycliff said softly.

She schooled her expression to indifference. If he thought he could breach her defenses by showering her with flattery and jewels, he was much mistaken.

“I do not want your bribes, my lord,” she said stiffly, setting his gift on the table.

“My name is Lucian,” he merely reminded her.

He glanced beyond the terrace toward the vast ocean sparkling golden in the distance. “It is a lovely evening, and much too early to retire. Why don’t you go inside and put on a more comfortable gown? Something older that you don’t mind getting soiled.”

She stared at him. “Why?”

“I fancy taking a stroll along the shore.”

Brynn considered asking if he’d taken leave of his senses, but she was more than willing to postpone the moment of reckoning as long as possible.

She did as she was bid, taking a great while to change out of her gown. She couldn’t help noticing that her nightdress was laid out on the bed where she had slept for all of her twenty-four years. Brynn shivered, not wanting to think of the night to come.

When she made her way downstairs, her husband was waiting for her on the lower landing, holding a basket and what looked like several woolen blankets draped over his arm.

“Strawberries and champagne,” he replied to her unspoken question.

“You mean to hold a picnic at this time of day?” she asked, her brows arching in astonishment.

“Something of the sort. I thought a private celebration was in order. And I hoped perhaps we might call a truce for the evening.”

Brynn was uncertain quite how to respond. She didn’t want a truce. Didn’t want to let down her guard. Yet she made no protest when he took her hand and led her back to the terrace and across the lawn, toward the cliffs.