Three Proposals and a Scandal (Sons of Sin 4.50)

“This is madness.” More chill when under his hand, her skin was warm and smooth like living satin.

“I can make you happy.” Hurt tied his gut in knots and humiliated heat stung his cheeks.

“Oh, I’m sure.” Sarcasm weighted her statement.

This time he let her break free. What was the point of trying to hold onto her when she was so eager to have him gone? He was such a bedamned idiot. He knew when he’d arrived that unleashing his disorderly emotions would turn her hostile. Still, he tried again. “I can make you happy.”

Fury kindled in her eyes and a loosened tendril of hair curled down her shoulder. The dishevelment suited her, set his blood pumping with futile desire.

“Just as I’m sure my portion would make you happy.” Her lips curled with scorn. “We can all be jolly together, me with my handsome fortune hunter and you with all my lovely golden guineas.”

Appalled he stared at her. He’d long suspected the reason behind her reserve, but that wasn’t the same as hearing her say the words to his face. “Where in Hades did this nonsense come from?”

“From the brain you clearly don’t credit me as having.” Her erratic breathing made her lush bosom heave, ruffling the cream lace edging her pink gown. “Next time you try your wiles on an heiress, make sure she can’t put two thoughts together.”

“You can’t imagine—”

“Oh, yes, I can.” She sliced one hand through the air to silence him.

Nobody seeing her vibrant beauty now would dismiss her as colorless. She looked at him like she loathed him. He’d hoped to stir her to genuine feeling. He should have been careful what he wished for. His hands clenched at his sides. “At Fentonwyck, we were friends.”

Impossibly she turned paler, but she held her ground. What a gallant wife she’d make. Right now, though, he had a foreboding that she’d never be his gallant wife.

“I applaud your shrewd campaign, my lord. However I’m awake to your scheme.”

He sucked in a rough breath and strove to speak calmly. Difficult when his heart battered his ribs and he burned to tug her into his arms and make her see sense. “Your father warned you against me.”

“What if he did? The empty Thorne coffers are no secret. Your brother was a wastrel and everyone knows that you’re doing your best to restore the family fortune.”

He drew himself up to his full height until he loomed over her. “There’s no shame in wanting to make my family great again.”

She didn’t budge. Her eyes sparked blue fire as she stared up at him. “There is when you lie to achieve your ends.”

“When the devil have I lied to you?”

“Let’s start with five minutes ago when you claimed to love me.”

He sighed with impatience and ran his hand through his hair. Common sense dictated that he flatter and cajole. Unfortunately he was so on edge that his response emerged like a lecture. “Of course I damn well love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re glorious. I’m not the problem here, you are. Since Cam jilted you, you’re convinced nobody could want you. Well, blast it, I do. You’re worth a hell of a lot more than your fortune, Marianne Seaton.”

If he’d imagined his declaration might soften her attitude, he was doomed to disappointment. She made a soft sound of disgust and turned to face the windows. “There’s no point in continuing this discussion.”

Her brief passion faded. She went back to sounding like a pattern card of decorum.

He refused to leave her like this. Her withdrawal usually hid deep emotion. He’d watched her long and hard for months and he was sure of that. The brittleness in her ruler-straight posture cut at his heart.

What a blasted dunderhead he was.

“Marianne, I’ve gone about this all wrong. Forgive me. My feelings overcame me.” He sucked in another shaky breath, cursing his deuced recklessness. “I’d count myself the most fortunate of men if you honor me with your hand in marriage.”

Her laugh was derisive and irony sharpened her tone. “Thank you for your proposal, Lord Wilmott, but I find myself unable to accept.”

His temper, barely mastered, exploded and he strode up to catch her arm and bring her around to face him. “S

o what are you going to do? Marry that dry stick Desborough? Or even worse, that puppy Tranter?”

Without pulling away, she regarded him with a dislike that fired his anger. Why couldn’t she see that they were meant to be together?

“That’s none of your concern, sir.” Then proved that her own temper was far from serene. “At least those gentlemen are interested in more than my dowry.”