He rounded on her. “What do you expect from me? I cannot turn my feelings on and off at will.”
He hated seeing the tears well in her eyes. “We need…we need you to marry. One of Father’s debtors came by tonight and threatened me. Threatened to call in the debts and put us in the poor house. I’m—we’re running out of time.” He pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry, Lucien. I’m just so worried and I had hoped you’d like Courtney, find her acceptable, because you’d loved her once before.”
He didn’t say a word.
Lauren continued. “I know how much she loves you. So, I thought it would be easy. You’d simply ask for her hand because you loved her so much too. But I didn’t realize that wasn’t fair to you. How can I expect you to marry a stranger just to save the family you no longer know, when I have been putting off doing just that?”
“Please don’t worry. If anyone else calls, ask them to call back when I am at home. Lord Rockwell has agreed to loan me funds to pay off any of the debtors that will not wait for me to sort out our situation.” In other words, most debtors were waiting for him to marry and marry well.
What he didn’t add was that, because he couldn’t remember being a lord, he had no qualms in accepting the help. He felt no shame at having to borrow from Rockwell. This was a situationnot of his making. Rockwell understood his need to have time to sort out his life and his family’s financial situation. That was the reason why, after watching Farah and Rockwell at the opera tonight, he’d decided to help Rockwell marry Farah before the man lost her. Deep inside, Lucien could see that Rockwell loved Farah, but for some reason, he was fighting it.
Lauren stepped out of his hold. “Oh, that is nice of Rockwell. And it’s such a relief. You must be relieved too. It gives you time to find someone who might make you happy.”
“Have you found anyone who might make you happy?” he countered, forcing the conversation away from him and Courtney.
Her face flushed with color. “That is a tad difficult when everyone knows I have no dowry.” He looked, really looked at his sister. She was a beauty. Surely there must be men interested in the daughter of an earl, one with such grace and beauty even without a dowry.
“It would seem English gentlemen are idiots.”
She laughed at that. “Most of them are.”
“Most?” he teased. Was there someone? The muscles in his jaw tightened.
“I really haven’t had time to think of courting.”
She was lying. Since his return, he’d noticed his sister’s lips always twitched when she lied. He wondered who she liked.
He thought of Courtney. Gone was the idea of pursuing Farah himself. She only had eyes for Rockwell. He’d tested that tonight. And she’d rebuffed his obvious flirtation.
However, he’d made Farah a promise. That if society ever learned she’d been in Ireland with Rockwell, alone and unchaperoned, and if she really didn’t want to marry Rockwell, he would marry her to save her from scandal.
This was the reason he didn’t openly set his cap at Courtney—yet. He couldn’t. He was obligated to Farah and yet, he couldn’ttell anyone for fear of exposing Rockwell and Farah’s scandalous journey to find him.
The sooner bloody Rockwell realized he was about to lose the best thing that ever happened to him, the better. Now there was an idea. Perhaps he could push the point at the ball Farah and her brother were hosting to welcome Lucien back to the world of the living.
He settled into bed and his thoughts drifted to Courtney. In the back of his wardrobe, hidden behind a loose board, he’d found a pencil drawing of himself lying naked on a bed with a blanket over his lower half but his chest bare. It had been drawn by Courtney, as she’d signed it. Just what had his relationship been with the woman he thought was so straitlaced she wouldn’t do anything to upset society?
They must have been alone—doing what? He would have to find out as it had implications. But the drawing was definitely intimate. To say he was surprised was an understatement… That was one of the reasons he’d hesitated in pursuing Courtney. Everyone spoke of the virtuous Lady Courtney, and he didn’t know how to live up to that sort of ideal. At some point, he’d put a foot wrong and then what would she feel or do? Would she end up despising him? Would she look down on him?
He unrolled the etching and stared at his image. This painting was full of passion, sex, and heat. He closed his eyes and remembered her touch, her scent and her laugh from the opera tonight. How surprising that underneath all that respectability lay a woman dying to break free. Was that why she’d loved him? Because he’d freed her inhibitions? Her desires?
He would set his plan in motion tomorrow night at the ball. He would push Rockwell into recognizing his feelings for Farah. As soon as he was free of his promise to Farah, as soon as Rockwell proposed, he would pursue Courtney. Not because hehad to, but because he wanted to. He wanted to get to know her. Not the society stuffy Courtney but the woman she’d obviously been with him.
Having found this drawing, he now realized what his old self saw in her. He was so overwhelmed by his situation, he’d not really looked at the woman he’d once loved.
He fell asleep with visions of Courtney in his bed, her long auburn hair sliding over his chest, her creamy breasts bouncing and her hardened nipples in his mouth, as she rode him into oblivion.
Chapter Six
The next night,as Courtney descended the stairs of her home, her gown and hair perfect, it was a different Lucien who greeted her. The way he looked at her, the way he kissed the knuckles of her gloved hand, the way he handed her into the carriage for their ride to the ball, all screamed flirtation.
The carriage swayed gently as it made its way through London’s darkened streets. Courtney’s heart fluttered at Lucien’s proximity; his thigh pressed warmly against hers. Something had changed in him since last night at the opera. The way he looked at her now held an intensity she remembered from before—before Ireland, before his memory loss, before everything changed.
“You look very beautiful tonight.”
She could feel her face blush. “Thank you. You look very handsome too.”
His hand moved to his jacket pocket, and she saw him withdraw a familiar parchment. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized it in the passing glow of the streetlamps. The drawing.Herdrawing. Heat flooded her face as she remembered that intimate morning, the way the early sunlight had played across his bare chest as she’d sketched him, both of them still warm and languid from their lovemaking.
