“It’s not the same thing.” But he could feel his resolve crumbling. Everything he wanted was right before him. Was he an idiot to refuse it? Couldn’t he make it his life’s work to make her happy?
“No, a moral failing is much worse than an accident of birth.” She leaned forward, the tips of her breasts pressing against his chest. All his muscles tensed. He ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Your mother is a god-fearing woman,” she said. “When she hears of what my brother’s done, she’ll look at me like I’m tainted. Like I’m nowhere near good enough for her son. Like—”
Brogan shut her up the only way he knew how. He kissed her.
Her mouth opened beneath his. She eagerly met his tongue with her own. She wrapped her arm around his neck and held him close, as though afraid to let him go.
She needn’t have worried. His fight was gone. If Juliana was willing to risk a life with him, then he wasn’t able to say no any longer.
Being his wife would be an adjustment for her. But if he couldn’t buy her a new dress each year, he would make it up to her in other ways.
He angled her head and took the kiss deeper. Better, more pleasurable ways.
A sliver of guilt niggled at him. Perhaps he should give her one more chance to change her mind. He pressed his forehead to hers, sucking down air. “Think carefully. Once you become my wife, there’s no going b—”
Juliana leapt at him with a squeal. She clung to his shoulders and kissed him hard.
He staggered back, gripping her waist and holding her tight.
Well, all right then. He’d given her every opportunity to do the right thing. He could hardly be expected to persist past the lady’s desires, not when acceding to them would make him deliriously happy.
No man was that strong. Not even a hardened ex-boxer.
And all it took was one spunky lady to bring him to his knees.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Juliana stiffened her spine as she stooped through the low door. The cells, little more than fortified rooms in the magistrate’s basement, were dark and dank, and Juliana pulled her coat more tightly about her. It was late in the evening, but she hadn’t wanted to wait until morning to have this conversation with her brother.
Snow jumped up from his pallet at her approach and leapt for the cell door. “Jules, I knew you or father would come. This chastisement has gone on long enough. Let me out.”
If Brogan hadn’t been at her back, she might have lost her courage. He squeezed her shoulder, and she nodded.
“Father asked me to come. He’s too distraught to look at you.” She turned away from her brother’s expression. It was filled too much with pique and not enough with guilt. “He will pay for an attorney for you. It won’t be the best attorney; father can’t afford the best. But he’ll be better than you deserve.”
“Attorney?” Snowdon whined. “He isn’t going to actually press charges against me, is he?”
A brittle chuckle came from the next cell over. “Shut up, Snow,” Miss Lynn said. “If I had to be arrested, why did it have to be with you?”
Juliana took a step towards the disembodied voice. Brogan’s fingers flexed on her shoulder. She patted his hand, and with a sigh, he released her.
She peered into the next cell. “Why?” She had to ask. This woman was the cause of her family’s ruin. If she and Snow had never met, her brother would never have acted so odiously. He would have lived a life of banal decadence, accomplishing little, but he would have been free.
He wouldn’t have broken his father’s heart.
Miss Lynn’s influence didn’t release Snow from responsibility for his own actions, but Juliana’s gut burned standing in front of the woman who had sown such destruction.
Miss Lynn’s dark eyes appeared at the small window in the door. “Why what?” Her tone was mocking. “Why did I work so hard to free my brothers and sisters from their chains?”
“The only chains you’ll encounter are the ones that will wrap about your wrists soon.” Brogan grunted. “Life for most is hard, but it doesn’t excuse this.”
Juliana stepped forwards. They were nearly face to face, only a thin bar separating the women. “Do you truly care about improving society, or do you only revel in the chaos you create?”
“Can’t it be both?” The edges of Miss Lynn’s eyes crinkled devilishly. Even facing prison, and who knew what else, the woman had brass. Was it her mind that had something wrong with it? No one should react such to the future she faced. “You should be more understanding,” Miss Lynn said. “You’ve always wanted to make a name for yourself. History isn’t made by meek women.”
“It isn’t made by shrews, either.” Juliana hadn’t only wanted to become renowned. She’d wanted to be known for doing something good, improving society. Her name would be whispered far and wide now, with a brother accused of trying to kill his titled father. Her family would make good grist for the gossip mill. And the fame she knew was to come turned her stomach.
But it didn’t matter. Her father was alive. She had Brogan. Nothing else compared. “It gives me some comfort to know that history won’t be made by you.”
