Yes, he’d been called by some, a devil. She understood why. His very presence formed a tide, a natural, irresistible pull. And yet there were hundreds whose lives depended on this man. Maybe even thousands.
“You’re at the very top of society. Your name is legend. Your line will carry on into infinity.”
“Without you, the line will die out with me.”
“No. It won’t.” He would do what was right.
He would find a proper wife to sire a proper heir.
The flare of hope in his eyes caused her a stab of guilt. But if she told him the truth—if she told him she meant to leave him tomorrow—he’d protest.
Tears crowded in her throat. She swallowed them down. She would not allow him to guess her intention. He mustn’t know this was the last time they’d come together.
The last time.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“Like I want to savor you?” She smiled to hide her lip tremble. “Because I do.”
He tilted his head, suspicious.
She pushed her fingers into his hair. “Sometimes I just can’t believe you’re real.”
There it was again. The shadow across his features. Not only pain, but self-reproach. Why the latter?
Because he truly loved, not her, but Penelope?
She scratched beneath his chin. He smiled, warm and sensual, in response. She couldn’t help but mirror his upturned lips…just before he fitted them over her own. The kiss was soft and sweet and tender. Full of words unspoken, emotion constrained. She sunk into the thick, murky mess, bathing in his heat in his tenderness.
What was it about strong men who were gentle with those in their care?
She held to his shoulders, near drowning in shattered hope.
Then, his intensity changed. He gripped her arms to the point of pain. She delighted in his power and, at the same time, had an overwhelming urge to subdue his strength, as if in overpowering him, she could prove to herself she would survive him.
She encircled his wrists and removed his hands from her person. Holding his arms at his side, she walked him back to the bed, and then pushed him down until they were both tangled atop the mattress.
Curiosity shone in his eyes. Curiosity and desire.
“I want to take you.” She spoke in a gravelly voice. “Takefromyou.”
Where had that come from?
Yet, She’d spoken true. Her desire was edged with grief and want and pain, and if he would not voluntarily give her his secrets, she could, at least leave her mark on his mind.
A memory hot and fierce.
She shifted her position until she was poised above him, staring down. She rested a hand on his chest, directly over his heart.
“Would you let me? I wonder.”
“I’m at your mercy.” He made no move. Instead, he stared deeply into her eyes. “Susceptible in more ways than you’ll ever know.”
“Good.” She made her voice light. If only that were true.
But she couldn’t challenge the falsehood. Already she was in too deep. She could feel the web between them spinning, every second added another sticky thread. Her mind was already thick with them.
“What would you have me do?” he asked.
