“You are the only woman I want to wed, Lady Virtue Walcot,” he said. “I never thought I’d say those words to anyone, but here we are, life intervening in its own mysterious ways. Take pity on me and tell me you’ll be my duchess. You belong at my side, in my bed. You know it as well as I.”
The realization she had been avoiding ever since learning the fate of Greycote Abbey hit her then. All this time, she had been falling for Ridgely. Bit by bit. He had charmed her. Clashed with her. Infuriated her. And now, he wanted to marry her.
But did she dare accept? Did she dare to consign herself to the unknown with the Duke of Ridgely, a sinfully handsome, arrogant, maddening rake?
She could admit that her home was forever lost to her now. Perhaps remaining with the devil she knew—and the devil she couldn’t stop kissing and wanting—was the best decision after all.
“IfI agree to marry you, I have some stipulations,” she said. “And you will note I have not yet said I will.”
He grinned. “Of course you have stipulations.”
“The first of which is no more denying me my books,” she continued sternly.
“I’ll buy you ten libraries,” he said easily.
Too easily. But she believed him. The Duke of Ridgely was many things, but liar was not among them.
She cleared her throat. “The second stipulation is that I wish to ride in the morning.”
He nodded. “Only with me at your side.”
“The third is that you must be a faithful husband,” she said, thinking this request, above the rest, was more likely to be the one he denied.
“I’ll expect the same from you,” he said solemnly. “No more protestations of love for Mowbury.”
Her foolish heart gave a small leap, and she couldn’t say why. “His name is Mowbray.”
“A fop by any other name would still be a fop,” he growled. “You’ll be in no one’s bed but mine, Virtue. That ismystipulation.”
Not precisely a hardship.
She nodded, biting her lip as she attempted to think of more conditions. “I agree to that. I also request that my funds remain mine, to do with as I like just as you promised.”
“It’s done.”
Virtue thought for a moment. “And I may have more stipulations. I reserve the right to add additional items to my list at any time.”
His lips twitched. “I’ll have my man of business draw up a contract. You can add more any time you wish.”
He was being very agreeable. And almost—dare she think it—sweet. And she was wrapped around him like a vine as usual, with no intention of letting go, it would seem. What a pair they were.
“Very well,” she relented. “I’ll marry you.”
His smile stole her breath as surely as his kisses did. “Excellent. I’ve already obtained a license. We’ll wed tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” That seemed impossibly soon. She’d only just relented to the notion of marriage, but to enter it within hours heightened her instincts to flee as fast as she could.
But where would she go? A return to Greycote Abbey was no longer achievable.
He kissed her again, smothering her protests and withdrawing slightly as his fingers stole beneath her gown and petticoats to find her where she was wet and wanting. He parted her folds and swirled a lazy caress over her pearl that made her moan helplessly into his mouth. Just when she thought he would bring her to her peak, however, his fingers retreated, leaving her throbbing and incomplete.
Trevor’s lips left hers. “Tomorrow,” he repeated. “And I’ll make you come as many times as I can.”
Tomorrow suddenly sounded quite fine to Virtue. Quite fine indeed.
CHAPTER15
They were married by noon, their sole witnesses Pamela and the bodyguard called Beast, who was obliged to sign his given name—Theo St. George, apparently—on the register.
