Baron of Blasphemy (Lords of Scandal 12)
“I see.” She didn’t. Not really. Was he referring to his brother? His father? She’d like to ask him more about the childhood he’d alluded to. But she wasn’t here to get to know him.
“I wanted to assure you that you will have choices in our match.”
That made her forget her musings about his past. “What sort of choices?’
“Whatever you wish. Bash made the match, but you and I can decide the terms. What is it you want from me? What would make you content in our union? Think on it.”
This was not the conversation she’d expected. She swallowed as she stepped to his side once again, slipping her hand into his elbow. He was trying to please her, and she did appreciate that. Very much. But she’d already been clear about what she wanted. She had to have a man’s affection because she needed proof…proof she was worthy. “Chad,” she said softly. She’d been just about as sharp as she was able in their last two conversations, but she wanted to temper these next words. She appreciated what he’d offered. She really did. “But I already told you. What I am searching for is love.”
* * *
Love?
The woman was daft.
He looked down at her, her face drawn into sympathetic lines. No, she wasn’t. She was intelligent and she was strong enough to stick to her point even after that kiss.
Bloody hell, that kiss had been far better than it should have been. It had been a light brush of the lips. He’d kissed a nun with more passion than that. Granted, she’d been a very naughty nun, but still…
The light touch of his mouth to Abigail’s should have bored him. Instead, every muscle in his body had tightened like a bow string, ready to release.
She’d fit snuggly against him, her lovely scent wrapping about him.
He wanted to kiss her again and again.
Instead, he was being rejected for love.
He tried not to let out a rumble of frustration.
What was love?
A myth. A fiction.
There was sex. There was mutual need inside and outside of the bedchamber. He’d care for her needs. Keep her safe.
He’d give her a title…
Then his gut twisted as he realized why he didn’t like his nickname on her lips. Being the Baroness of Blackwater was one of the few tangible things he had to offer, and he’d gone and sullied it with the name. Blasphemy.
And his behavior.
There was that too.
In his defense, his family had bankrupted the barony, leaving him with tattered shreds of a title, but he’d done his damage as well. Why was that suddenly apparent?
He’d hoped this would be an easy transaction. He’d offer her protection and she’d finance his future.
But there was nothing simple about this woman, and worse yet, she was highlighting his own flaws, shining light on each of them in turn. He hated what he saw. No wonder she didn’t wish to wed him.
“I should get you back inside before you’re missed.”
She nodded, her hand tightening on his arm. “I hope you understand why I can’t marry you.”
He stilled then, turning to study her upturned face. She looked concerned, her brows drawn together, her hands both tucked against his arm. Did she think it would be that simple? Regardless of whether or not he was worthy, he needed this marriage. “I am not taking you back because I’ve conceded,” he rumbled. And then quick as a snake, he wrapped his arms below her bottom and lifted her off her feet. She yelped, holding onto the breadth of his shoulders.
“Chad,” she cried in the breathy sort of voice that called to him. He tightened his hold.
“I’m bringing you back because I have no intention of further damaging your reputation. You’ll agree to be my wife because you’ve realized I’m the right choice not because I’ve taken your other options away.” He hoped. Her concession was the only thing that would ease the ache roiling inside him that he wasn’t good enough…