The Rake's Wicked Proposal

The same reason that marrying Grace, or indeed any woman, being with her night and day, and consequently she being with him, was not something Lucian welcomed. How could he possibly relish any woman seeing him after the visitation of one of the nightmares that had haunted his nights these last two years, resulting in exhaustion and self-disgust?

Lucian’s only hope was that the maintaining of completely separate bedchambers once they were married would take care of that. As long as he did not actually fall asleep in Grace’s arms once they had made love, he could see no reason why she need ever know of the horrors that possessed his nights.

His mouth tightened grimly. ‘I do not intend to discuss this with you any further tonight, Grace.’ His tone brooked no further argument. ‘It is time for me to leave, and for you to retire to your bedchamber. I will return in the morning, when we can discuss this further if that is your wish.’

Grace’s wish was that she had not acted so impetuously earlier this evening by going to Lucian’s home in such a brazen way. More than that she wished that brazenness had not become wantonness once she had been left alone with him in his study!

It was a wantonness that Grace knew neither she nor Lucian would ever forget…

‘Our aunt is still abed.’ Arabella answered Lucian’s unspoken question when he was shown into the breakfast room at St Claire House the following morning. ‘Is this not a shockingly early hour for you to be abroad, Lucian?’ she added mischievously. ‘It was my belief that male members of the ton stayed abed until noon!’

Lucian dismissed the footman once he had poured him a cup of tea. ‘The Duke of Carlyne suffered a heart seizure yesterday evening.’

Much as he loved his sister, Lucian was not in the mood for Arabella’s teasing this morning.

‘Oh, how awful!’ His sister was instantly concerned at his news, her creamy brow creasing into a frown. ‘How is the Duchess? And Grace? Dear Grace,’ she added worriedly.

‘Grace is the reason that I am here at such a shockingly early hour.’ His mouth thinned, his expression grim. ‘Grace had a note delivered to me a short time ago, informing me that her uncle died at four o’clock this morning without regaining consciousness.’

Arabella gasped her dismay, her face paling. ‘That is—I cannot believe—’ She gave a dazed shake of her head. ‘How truly awful!’ Her gaze sharpened. ‘But should you not go to Grace, Lucian?’ She frowned. ‘She must be terribly upset.’

Lucian could hear the rebuke in Arabella’s tone. A rebuke Lucian knew he richly deserved. As her betrothed, Lucian knew he should be at Grace’s side this morning—that Grace’s letter, although it did not state it, tacitly requested it. Lucian had every intention of complying with that request, but he would prefer it if Arabella accompanied him to Carlyne House.

For his dreams last night had not consisted of those vivid nightmares that had haunted him for so long. Instead he had dreamt of Grace. Of her lusciously responsive curves. Of the pleasure he had given her. Of the satisfaction her pleasure had given him.

As usual Lucian had awoken pale and exhausted, but fully aware that this time his physical dilemma had been caused by his own aching need to possess Grace’s body rather than those nightmares that took him back to the blood and gore of battle.

He thought he almost preferred the bloody nightmares…

Lucian nodded tersely. ‘I am sure she is. Which is why I think it would be beneficial if you were to accompany me to Carlyne House. You find the suggestion not to your liking?’ His frowning gaze followed Arabella’s abrupt movement as she stood up to cross the room and stand in front of the window that looked out into the garden.

‘The Duke is dead, long live the Duke…’ she murmured softly.

Lucian frowned darkly. ‘I beg your pardon?’

Arabella’s smile was scornful as she turned. ‘I was thinking how strange it is that Lord Darius, a man who was considered to be an unmitigated rake just one short year ago, now finds his fortune completely turned around!’

Lucian gave a reproving shake of his head. ‘I fail to see…’