Meghan curled on her side and rested her cheek on the arm of the sofa so she could watch him. “I can’t be the sun and death, August. You must choose.”
“Sun,” he said thickly. Not even for her could he erase fear’s grip.
Realizing he still wore a single glove, he removed the snug material.
Culross let the article fall with a sad little plop and stared at it where it lay.
This was too much.
Wanting to possess her and her body so no other could was primal. It was an animal emotion meant for men like Culross. Being overcome was for dandies and weak rogues, like the McQuoids.
He wasn’t built for this hungering to have her in every way. Body. Mind. Soul.
Maybe this was their ultimate triumph over him—Culross losing his damned wits for their sister. Caring for her. And having to confront with her on land the evil he had done—against all their women. Before they had departed Wapping, hehad sent two of his men with orders to whip their mounts to death if needed to reach his brother and Lord Kerr.
Meghan had forgiven him once, but the McQuoid loyalty rang truer than the King’s crest.
His own stomach pitched.
Meghan lay her palm over his. “Is this where you bring all your captives?” she asked, her voice so damned weak.
The reminder of his sins wrought further havoc—his just rewards. No, those came when he confessed all.
“You are making jests,” he said thickly.She is sick and seeks to spare my worrying.
Meghan gave him a smile. “Not a good one.”
A good one…
She was a good one. All that was good.
Certainly too purefor Culross.He knew it with a blackguard’s heart because he wanted her anyway, and he chose not to tell her everything.
“Tsk, tsk.” Meghan’s clucking brought his eyes on her. “I am disappointed.”
You don’t know the half of it, love.
“A gentleman I once knew said the Earl of Culross was the best quipper in all the Land of Quipdomville.”
The memory intruded—in a place where it absolutely belonged.
“…Why is the sea the most trustworthy companion at sea…Miss Smith?”
Meghan’s eyes twinkled. “…Why…?”
“…Because it never fails to blow the truth…”
Against his will, a wistful smile claimed his lips. “The fellow was an arrogant bufflehead.”
“Be that as it may,hewould know how to make your captive smile.”
Insanity was hating the former version of himself who had made her laugh and wanting to one-up the bastard.
“I don’t have a captive,” he said gravely. “I have a betrothed.”
The emotion that blazed from the glassy sheen of her eyes caused a shifting in his chest.
Meghan’s throat moved, same as his. “It is not a quip, but I will allow it.”
