A Rake's Midnight Kiss (Sons of Sin 2)

He was such a liar. Anger that felt more like desolation made her stagger back a step. “Pretty words, Sir Richard.”

He remained inhumanly calm. Probably he didn’t care enough to be angry. “Fairbrother must realize now that the jewel’s not in the vicarage. He’ll come after you.”

“So you’re offering to keep it for me?” Sarcasm weighted the question.

He shook his head. “I told you, I don’t want it. But you can trust Cam.”

Her temper flared again, although it had hardly subsided since he’d admitted his name. “The duke’s a liar too.”

He winced, but his voice emerged as measured as ever. “He hated being party to this deception. Cam’s as fine a man as you could meet.”

His defense of his friend rankled. A snake like Sir Richard shouldn’t demonstrate qualities like loyalty. “I’m beginning to think there’s no such thing as a man worth the air he breathes.”

Sir Richard made a convulsive move as if to take her into his arms. His voice vibrated with urgency that she couldn’t let herself credit. “I’m sorry, Genevieve. I’m sorry I hurt you this way. I know I was wrong. I’d do it all so differently if I could. But I didn’t count on you. I didn’t count on how you’d change me. I didn’t count on what all this would mean.”

She stepped back before her needy heart lured her closer. He was right. She was hurt and angry. But she wasn’t fool enough to throw herself into the furnace where she’d been burned once already. “And what does it mean, Sir Richard?”

Unwaveringly he stared at her. For a moment, she wondered if she might get an answer. Not that she’d believe him.

He straightened, dark blue eyes somber as she’d never seen them. “One day I’ll tell you. When you’re ready to listen.”

She tightened her hand around the jewel until the metal bruised her. “I’ll never be ready.”

Unable to withstand the steady gaze that seemed to demand something of her, something she didn’t understand, she moved around the temple collecting her clothing. Carefully she wrapped her torn shift around the jewel. She avoided glancing at the jumbled pillows in the center of the floor.

Genevieve feared that in taking her body, Richard had marked her forever. That unwelcome perception fortified outward hostility, while inside she quivered like one of Dorcas’s jellies.

“Go back to London, Sir Richard. I’m sure the fine ladies there appreciate your cruel games.”

Arms overflowing with undergarments, she headed doggedly for the entrance. This man, Christopher, Richard, whoever in blazes he was, had wrecked another of her sanctuaries. He left her nowhere to hide. And she’d never needed a haven more.

He stepped in front of her. His eyes glittered with a wild light as his hands hooked around her forearms. Fear shivered through her. Fear and reluctant excitement. His touch sparked sensations she’d battled to deny since learning that he wasn’t a dream lover but a lying reptile.

“Let me go.”

He ignored her. She couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t exactly struggling. “This isn’t over, Genevieve.”

“Yes, it is.” She stared at him, striving to detest him.

“I’ll prove that I’m worthy of the privilege you granted me tonight. I’ll prove that you’ve turned a shallow fribble into a man of honor.”

She blushed hot as fire. “Prove it by leaving.”

His jaw hardened into an obstinate line. “Not while you’re at risk.”

“You’re the risk.”

“In that case, you’re safe. Your safety is all I want.”

Her eyes narrowed. “But that’s not all you want, is it?”

She meant the jewel. But as his eyes sparked and his grip firmed, she realized that her phrasing had been fatally imprecise. Academic suicide. Unwise too, when dealing with half-naked men.

“Right now, I want you to remember this.” His hands cradled her head with a ruthless tenderness that set her heart cartwheeling.

Run, Genevieve, run.

But her feet remained pinned to the floor. Idiot, idiot girl she was, even now, she wanted one last kiss. One last kiss before she forever banished this dangerous magic he conjured between them.