A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)

No, he wouldn’t do that!

Defiantly, Marissa nuzzled against his throat, enjoying his scent. Her leg was resting on his thigh, and now she felt his cock twitch against her. He moved as if to draw away, probably believing once was enough for a virgin, but she was not having that.

“First, can we do it again?” she asked innocently.

“Minx,” he growled, clasping her in his arms.

“Your minx,” she said, with the sense that she was burning her bridges, and then gasped as he began to show her all over again how wonderful they could be together.

Chapter 30

Valentine opened one eye. The room was still, apart from Marissa’s gentle breathing as she slept. Any doubts he’d had were gone, laid to rest by the knowledge that he’d made the right choice. For a moment he allowed himself to enjoy the feel and sound of her, as she lay next to him, and to imagine what it would be like in the years ahead, going to bed with her and waking up to her every day and every night.

But there was something he must do first, a dark shadow that could not be allowed to intrude upon his happiness and Marissa’s safety any longer.

He rose, stretching, and went to the window, lifting aside the blind to see outside. The yard was in shadow, moonlight barely penetrating beyond the crooked rooftops of neighboring buildings. As he’d expected, no one was about.

Making as little noise as possible he pulled on his clothing, and then sat down to put on his boots. Marissa didn’t wake, for which he was grateful. She would argue with him and want to come with him, and he wasn’t about to put her into any more danger. Which was why he hadn’t told her what he intended.

She’d be angry about that, too, but he’d face her recriminations later. Running his hands through his hair, he went to the door. He glanced over his shoulder one last time, at the shape of Marissa in his bed, and smiled. Who would have thought his life would be transformed so swiftly and so completely by this woman?

Valentine wasn’t a violent man, but if violence was necessary to stop Augustus from ruining their future then he would use it. He found his hands had folded into fists, and he opened them, forcing himself to be calm. Tonight he’d end this matter, one way or the other, he told himself, as he closed the door quietly behind him.

The landing was chill, and as he stood a moment getting his bearings, words echoed softly in his head.

“I will steal her, and when I do I will use her until every part of her smells of me. And even if she should live a hundred years and wash a hundred times every day she will never rid herself of my memory. And neither will you, every time you look at her and hold her and kiss her. You will think of me, Valentine.”

Remembering made him icy with rage. Normally he thought of himself as a hot-blooded man with a fiery temper when it was roused, but not this time. The anger he felt toward Von Hautt was glacial, and he knew when he got hold of the other man he would find it difficult to control his fury.

The parlor was dimly lit, the fire had burned down to mere coals. He warmed his hands as he waited for the innkeeper to bring him a tankard of ale while his horse was being saddled. They’d made the arrangement last night, out of Marissa and George’s hearing, and now it was time.

“Your horse is ready,” the man said, entering the parlor, his eyes reddened with lack of sleep and his hair on end.

“Good,” Valentine said, taking the ale and gulping it down.

“How is your head, sir?”

He’d forgotten about his head, he’d had far more enjoyable things to think of. “Better, thank you.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to send for your brother, so’s he can go with you?” he said.

“Quite sure.” Valentine noticed he didn’t offer to come himself, but even if he had he would have refused the offer. This was something he wanted to do on his own.

The horse’s breat

h was steamy in the damp air, and quickly he mounted and set the animal at a walk out of the stable and into the yard. Water dripped from the roof and ran down his back, and he grimaced, shrugging his shoulders. A light rain was still falling but it wasn’t enough to worry him and he set off.

The road from the village to Beauchamp Place was empty and Valentine set his horse at a gallop beneath the night sky. The worst of the rain might be gone but the road gleamed wet and there were numerous puddles, reflecting the moon as it darted behind clouds and peered out at him through the cold mist. Swaths of white hung in the dips and hollows, and seemed to spin like webs about the horse’s hooves. Valentine rode on.

Soon the dark shape of the manor house loomed to his right, and as he slowed to observe it more carefully he spotted a gleam of lamplight in one of the upstairs windows. Just a brief flicker before it was hidden again. He was there then, his arch enemy; Baron Von Hautt who hated Valentine with all his heart.

It was time to confront him and discover why.

Marissa opened her eyes and moved in the bed. At once she felt unfamiliar aches and twinges, as if her body belonged to someone else. And then she remembered. In a way she was someone else. She was Valentine’s lover. She had given herself willingly to him and stepped into a new phase of her life.

As she thought of the pleasure they had taken with each other her smile grew. She could hear the deep rumble of his voice in her head: Minx. He’d asked her to marry him. She felt immensely privileged and lucky. Valentine had tried to convince her he was staid and tedious and she’d grow tired of him, but she knew that wasn’t how she saw him at all. She had finally realized that it didn’t even matter that he was involved in botanical pursuits—surely she could deal with that? She would even join him on his expeditions—she pictured sleeping under the stars in Valentine’s arms.

But Marissa had been on too many expeditions with her parents to believe such things were necessarily romantic. Could she really endure journeys to uncomfortable and far-flung places for the sake of being the wife of this admirable man? Marriage would be a fine balance, between pleasing herself and pleasing her husband, but as long as she didn’t begin to resent the latter it might work.