While he was in love with Gigi, he saw no need to compromise his vengeance by giving away unnecessary details at this juncture. After they were wed and she was bound to him, he would tell her all…especially since his two biggest secrets would affect her. He’d heard from Marvell that Grantley’s health had taken a turn for the worse. The title and revenge would soon be Conrad’s.
“She didn’t find anything she could use against me,” he said neutrally.
“How could she betray you, her own lover?”
Gigi looked adorably indignant on his behalf.
“The fact that you ask that question is what makes you different from her. From any of the females I’ve associated with,” he said intently.
“How many women have you, ahem, associated with?”
Bespelled by her pure violet gaze, he felt trapped. While he’d never been ashamed of his hot-blooded nature, he wished he hadn’t been quite so prolific in this area of his life. He realized that the need that had driven him hadn’t just been lust. He’d hungered for connection…the kind he’d found with Gigi. He’d wanted someone who would stick with him through thick and thin, who would care if he lived or died, who he could trust with his secrets and the deepest yearnings of his heart.
Since he’d failed to find that, fucking had served as a distracting alternative. He’d told himself that he didn’t want commitment, that he had no time for it…but maybe he’d been making excuses. Maybe what he truly felt was that he wasn’t deserving of devotion. Certainly, no one had bothered to offer it to him before Gigi. Although she hadn’t given him any promises, she’d made him feel worthy of care and attention in a way no one else had. The emptiness of his life before her struck him like a visceral blow.
“Is it taking you this long to count your lovers?” Gigi asked incredulously.
“No.”
You are making a hash of this, Godwin.
“That is, I wasn’t doing that.”
He wasn’t easily unnerved. Yet now the decades of success and domination seemed to melt away. Suddenly, he was once again that scrawny, desperate, unloved boy.
Bloody hell, man, you’ve bought and sold half of England. You’ve never backed down to anyone. Are you honestly afraid of being rejected by this little minx?
He was no namby-pamby. To prove it, he put his hands on Gigi’s waist, steering her backward. She emitted a squeak of protest as her spine hit the wall.
“What are you doing?” She struggled futilely. “Unhand me.”
“Not until you listen to what I have to say.”
She glared at him. “I can listen without your hands on me.”
“I talk better when I’m touching you,” he muttered. “You asked about my lovers, and I don’t want to lie. I haven’t kept a tally, but I also haven’t deprived myself of company when the need arose. Call me a rake, if you must?—”
“If the shoe fits.”
“But I have been responsible and taken precautions. My future wife will have no worries about Venus’s curse or the existence of any by-blows.”
Gigi’s long lashes fanned. He saw the moment she comprehended what he was telling her. Even in the dimness, he saw the rosy tint of her cheeks.
“Isn’t that lucky for her?” she retorted.
“It is lucky for you. Because you are the woman I intend to marry.”
“What if I don’t want to marry you?”
He took the hit because he deserved it. And because her pout told him she hadn’t decided not to marry him…she just wanted convincing. He was happy—nay, eager—to provide the sweetest persuasion. His eyes holding hers, he went down on one knee.
“What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously. “It will take more than a few flowery words on bended knee to sway me.”
“Then it is a good thing I had other uses planned for my mouth.”
He bunched her shift in his fists, yanking it up past her thighs. At the sight of her glossy little nest, hunger raked his gut.
“What are you doing?” she squeaked. “My mama is just outside?—”
