Duke of Decadence (Lords of Scandal 9)

He eased back just to push forward again. She made a little moaning noise next to his ear and he knew it was too late. Perhaps it was too late to untangle himself at all.

Would she hate him if he married her? Not at first of course, but later when she realized that she’d married a beast?

He couldn’t care now. That was a problem for later. Right now, she was tensing in his arms, pushing against him even as she twined her legs tighter about his.

He kissed her again, deeper and fuller and, with a cry, she shattered in his arms.

It was beautiful.

Isabella blinked several times trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. What had they been discussing?

Why did the weight of his body make her mind stop working?

She wanted him to stay on top of her like this forever. She could fall into a deep sleep curled into his warmth.

“This is why they tell you not to allow men into your room,” she murmured, her voice even sounding heavy and sleepy.

He chuckled, grazing a kiss along a temple. “I want to marry you, Isabella.” But he didn’t sound happy.

That made her eyes pop wide open as her gut began to churn. “I am sensing that a proposal isn’t going to follow those words.”

He smoothed her hair back from her face. “You break down all the emotional barriers I’ve so carefully built. That might work for some men, but for me, I’m afraid it will unleash the temper I’ve so carefully caged.”

She gasped, her hands tightening on his broad shoulders. “But I’ve known you for a month and I’ve never seen you lose your temper.”

“It’s a daily battle,” he whispered, dropping his head to hers again. “What if, one day, I lose?”

Tears pricked at her eyes. She wanted to dismiss his words. To say she didn’t care, or she didn’t believe him, but he believed himself. Deeply. She drew in a breath. “You must decide if you can marry me or not. But for my part, if I had to choose, I would choose you over the alternative.”

“The alternative?” he asked, quirking a brow. “What’s that?”

“Well.” She twisted her mouth. “Currently that involves homelessness and potential starvation but even still…”

His eyes widened. “I would never allow either of those things to happen.”

She let out a long sigh. “I come to you without a dowry, a family name, and a whole passel of problems. If you can accept my flaws, I can accept yours.”

She saw his face shudder and she knew he’d say no. That he would not accept her or give himself.

Giving a push, Isabella scurried out from under him.

“Try to understand. I don’t want to be another one of your problems.”

She let out a short laugh that held no humor. “You must understand that you are. One of my problems.”

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He still lay partially on the bed, his torso lifted up on his arms. He looked beautiful like that. So strong, she wished she could crawl under his weight again.

“It means.” She curled her knees up into her chest. “That you put me in increasing danger each and every time we are alone together. That mystery man that arrived at the club…”

“Don’t call him that,” Bash bit out. “It makes him sound exciting rather than just annoying.”

“He could ruin me. He knows my secret. My uncle, he’s going to strike back in some way. You’re giving them fodder.”

Bash’s eyes closed as his head dipped lower. “Isabella…”

“I think you should leave,” she whispered. She didn’t want him to see her cry, but she could feel the tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. Because this whole month had been wonderful and terrible, and she didn’t know how much worse it could be. Or better. It was all confusing.