“But you were just a boy,” Gabriella said. The thought that some horrid man had taken advantage of him after everything else he’d been through was insupportable. She edged closer to him, needing to offer what comfort she could.
Huntley scoffed. “Such men don’t care about age. Guthrie just wanted his blunt, and he saw an opportunity to get it. When I was old enough, I began fighting for him, paying back everything my father had owed along with whatever Guthrie had spent on me and my sisters.”
“Fighting?” She couldn’t help herself from recalling the way he’d looked when she’d spied him in the courtyard, bare chested with rippling muscles and a sheen of masculine sweat upon his brow. A blush crept over her, and she instinctively dropped her gaze, fearful of what he might see in her eyes.
“Boxing,” he amended. His tone was a little rougher than before. “I’m a bare-knuckle boxer, Gabriella. Or at least I was before I became a duke. During the day, I worked at the docks as a common laborer and in the evening, I fought the men Guthrie told me to fight. Not exactly marriage material for a well-bred Society lady such as yourself. Especially not now that you know who I was boxing for.”
“And yet . . .” And yet I can think of no one else I’d rather be with, no one who makes me feel the way you do.
“I would hate to ruin your chances for the sort of life you’ve always dreamed of,” he said, pulling his hand away and letting her go. “You deserve better than anything I can possibly offer.”
“So you think Fielding would be better?” she asked, feeling more alone than she’d ever felt before. And with that feeling, came anger—unbridled and real. “I have lived my entire life knowing that my choices would be limited by my parents’ demands, that I was unlikely to have a passionate marriage or even a tolerable one for that matter. But then I met you and I discovered that I didn’t know anything at all. I didn’t have any idea of who I really was, or of what I really wanted until the moment you walked into my life. And then I knew, without doubt, that the very last thing I wanted to do was to tie myself to a man like Fielding. You’ve reminded me of who I am, Raphe. You’ve made me feel alive again, and the truth of the matter is, that even if Society decides to shun me for it, the only man I want to be with is you. So if you feel the same way about me—and I hope you do, or I’ll never get over the embarrassment of this conversation—then—”
She didn’t manage another word as his mouth crashed over hers, claiming her with more possessiveness than she’d ever thought possible. This was not the gentle exploration they’d shared in the garden days earlier. This was hungry . . . demanding . . . utterly delicious. This was a need to break boundaries, to explore the irresistible yearning they shared for each other . . . to uncover its meaning. So she held nothing back, clutching him to her just as desperately as he clutched her—as if they’d been drifting through time, two souls with one shared destination: here and now.
“Raphe,” she had to speak his name, even if it was just a bare whisper of air.
He rewarded her with a low, guttural growl, his fingers digging against her back as if he hoped to somehow burrow his way inside her. His lips parted over hers, their breaths mingling in a hot burst of desire that filled Gabriella with restless need. She wanted him to touch her. Everywhere. In the most intimate way possible. Did that make her wanton? She didn’t know and she didn’t care, could barely think when he was doing such wonderful, mind-numbing things with his mouth.
But then he drew back, breaths coming just as fast and irregularly as hers. “My God.” He lowered his head again, this time to the curve of her neck, and it was all Gabriella could do to keep herself from whimpering in response to the hot embers he placed there. So she held on tight, her fingers tunneling through his hair and over his shoulders, touching him just as he touched her, with a need for increased closeness . . . to know him as well as she knew herself.
“You cannot imagine how much I want you, Gabriella,” he murmured against the flushed surface of her chest. Another kiss, more tentative than the last, sent a fiery longing spiraling through her. Oh yes. “I’ll never get enough of you.”
“Nor I of you,” she said, her fingers creeping beneath his waistcoat to tug at his shirt.
He caught her wrist, stopping her progress, and inhaled sharply. “We should stop.” He blinked, focused his gaze more intently on hers. “We must stop.”
“But . . .” The memory of his naked chest danced before her eyes, and her fingers itched for permission to touch it.
“There’s something else I must tell you first.”
The seriousness with which he spoke gave her pause. Her hands stilled. “What is it?”
He hesitated for a moment, then rose to his feet and started pacing about the room. “Guthrie came to see me last night.” Halting by the fireplace, he stared into its gaping emptiness. “He reminded me of a deal that he and I made before I became a duke.”
Straightening herself, she watched him with increasing unease. “What sort of a deal?”
Turning, he eyed her carefully for a moment before saying, “I am to fight for the world championship.”
She sank back against the sofa. “A public boxing match?” He gave a curt nod, to which she said, “I don’t suppose there’s any hope of it being the respectable kind that a gentleman of your rank might engage in without inviting scandal?”
“It will probably be in a field somewhere with enough space to accommodate a large crowd.”
A gasp of air escaped her. “Your reputation will suffer.”
“As will yours. Unless we break off our acquaintance.”
A knot began to form in her throat. “What about your sisters? Their presentations are next week.”
“And you can still assist them with that, provided Juliette is well enough by then. But as far as you and I are concerned, I think you need to consider what it would mean for you if anyone were to find out that you broke off your engagement with Fielding in order to allow the attentions of a man like me.”
“I would be proud to be associated with you. Don’t you know that?”
Stilling, he looked at her as though he longed to encourage her to be reckless, but didn’t have the scruples to allow it. “But it’s not just your reputation at risk, Gabriella. It’s your entire family’s. Are you really willing to drag them all down with you? Now that you know how likely I am to do that?”
Feeling her eyes begin to burn, she got to her feet and faced him. “Then we’ll just have to fight this. You’re a duke, Raphe, a powerful peer with a trustworthy secretary and capable solicitors at your command. Surely, there has to be a way to stop Guthrie from holding you to a deal you made under very different circumstances from which you presently face. You could—”
“No. I will not back away from this.”
