Duke of Dishonor (Lords of Scandal 11)

He was her hero.

She let out a sigh as he didn’t bother to set her down. She should insist on walking, but he was strong and warm, and she was tired.

Laying her head on his shoulder, she closed her eyes.

She’d never be Eliza. But she had to have a say in her marriage. How was she going to stand her ground when everything about him was so inviting?

Brandon opened the door to her cabin and set her down. She swayed on her feet and he cursed himself for waiting so long to bring her below deck.

He’d been giving her space to think.

He deserved her irritation. He’d forced her on several fronts, and he knew it. Ones she wasn’t even aware of yet. Ones that would make her far angrier than she was now.

This entire time he’d been trying to prove that he wasn’t his father’s son, but he’d gone and done exactly what his father might do, he’d selfishly trapped her in a situation she didn’t want.

The realization rocked him, and his jaw clenched, a muscle ticcing in his cheek. He was a cad. Worse. He was as bad as those thieves.

But if she married him, he’d give her everything she ever wanted in life. He amended to that this very moment.

He slid his jacket off her shoulders, checking her skin to make certain she was warm enough. “Thank you,” she murmured as her hand twisted behind her back to the top pearl button on her dress. Even fully functioning, she’d have a difficult time getting those buttons undone on her own. But he knew she must be exhausted.

He saw her hand drop again as she eyed the bed.

“Do you need help?” he asked, stepping closer again.

She shook her head. “I’ll just sleep in my dress. I don’t have anything else to wear anyhow.”

He shook his head and crossed to a small bank of built-in drawers. Then he pulled out a fresh shirt. Crossing back over to her, he raised a brow. “This is normally my cabin.”

“It’s lovely,” she said, her gaze barely sweeping across the sparse décor as she sighed.

“May I?” he said, his fingers lightly touching the nape of her neck.

She clutched her hands to her chest. “May you what?”

“Take off your dress,” he replied, trying to hide a smile.

Her face turned pink as a blush crept up her cheeks. “I couldn’t possibly.”

“You’ll sleep better without a dress and corset on,” he replied. “And we forgot to bring you a maid.”

She gave a quick laugh at that. “Our departure was a bit rushed.” Then she swallowed, her throat working. “It isn’t proper,” she finally said.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t do a better job of asking your permission to bring you on this boat. Or for our marriage or…” He drew in a breath. “I’m far better at racing to the rescue than I am at slowing down and making room.”

He watched her shoulders droop. “I liked that you rescued me.”

“Then let me rescue you from this dress right now.” He brushed his hand down her arm. “I’ll leave you to take care of the rest.”

She gave a tentative nod and then turned. He began working his way down the buttons of the dress. “I just want to know that I’ll have choices. You saw Eliza. Isabella’s different but…” She stopped. “They make all the decisions. They take all the risks. I want to know that I am capable too. But I need room to make choices, mistakes, if I’m ever going to learn how.”

He removed her bodice and began working on her skirt. Brandon’s chest was tight with emotion. “You are capable of great compassion. More than I have ever seen. It humbles me.”

She turned toward him then, her gaze colliding with his. “Compassion does not give anyone control.”

“Not true,” he answered as he found himself sinking to his knees. She was still in her corset and her petticoats, but he pressed his forehead to her stomach. “Do you know what I would do, what I would give to keep you at my side? You have immense control over me.”

She gasped, even as her hands curled into his hair. “I didn’t think you cared for me like that. I thought I was just a means to an end.”