“How many duels have you fought since then?”
He finally glanced at her, frowned. “None.”
“Stolen kisses from anybody else’s fiancée?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Then I don’t think you’re a bad person. You made a mistake.”
“I make lots of mistakes. I’m impulsive and selfish.”
“You may have been in the past, but you’re not now. You’re the most selfless, caring man I’ve ever known.”
“That’s because you’ve only managed to be around men who are even bigger pricks than I am.” He tried to dispel the shame of his words with a smile, but his eyes were tortured.
“Stop it.” She gripped his chin with one hand and crushed her lips to his. “I wouldn’t make love to you if I thought you were an irredeemable blackguard. Over a decade has passed since then. You were young. People change.”
“Do they?”
“Ithink so. I like you just the way you are.”
His cock stirred. “I like you just the wayyouare.”
“Just don’t duel over me,” she teased, pulse racing at the thought.
“I will if I want to,” he growled, flipping her over and driving his shaft inside her. “If you so much as think about kissing another man, I swear I’ll meet him at dawn.”
“I would never,” she gasped, locking her legs around his thighs. “Only you. I promise.”
“Good.” He laced her fingers with his, crushed his mouth to hers, pumped his hips.
She arched against him, hands locked with his. “How much longer are you mine to command?”
Her heart pounded so loud, she almost didn’t hear his whispered reply.
“For as long as I live.”
Chapter 37
Gavin was still in Evangeline’s bedchamber when the sun rose. He’d meant to quit the room when she fell asleep, but couldn’t make himself leave her earlier than absolutely necessary. So he stayed, stroking her hair, watching her sleep, holding her close.
And realized what a precious gift she’d given him.
Not just her virginity—although that had seemed a miracle, too—but even more precious than that, she’d given him her unconditional trust. He hadn’t forced her to do so. He’d somehow earned it.
She would not make love to a murderer. She would not fall asleep in the arms of a man of irredeemable evil. She said so herself, did she not? She believed in him, even when all evidence suggested she should not.
It was a new sensation, being trusted implicitly. He hadn’t lied to her—he’d been an incorrigible youth. Amazing that he hadn’t been forced to duel on a regular basis. Nor had he lied when he said he’d call out any man who dared to touch her. Sweat beaded on his skin at the very thought. Horrifying.
He pulled her closer into his arms. When she left, he wouldn’t have much say over it, would he? He wouldn’t even be there. Might never see her again at all.
Unacceptable.
But what could he do about it? They were no closer to solving Heatherbrook’s murder than when they began. Edmund and Francine had flat-out said they believed him responsible. His own family regarded him with suspicion. The way that Stanton woman sent off missives, the constabulary would arrive with a rope and shackles any day now.
Legalities of guardianship aside, he could hardly ask Evangeline to stay with him when he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to stay himself. If he truly cared for her, he would have to let her go. Give her a bagful of money. Send her off in his best coach. Hope she thought of him once in awhile.
He should give her something to take with her. A memento of the short time they had together. Something to let her know they would always be together in his heart.
