Her eyes went wide. “I’m not?”
“No.” He took a step closer, raising her chin higher so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Let me make myself perfectly clear, Lucy. Vale isn’t going to be your pretend suitor. Not Vale, and not any other man.”
“Well, why not?” Two bright spots of color burned in Lucy’s cheeks. She was falling into a temper. Her dark eyes flashed, and her mouth turned down at the corners, exaggerating that stubborn lower lip. Ciaran’s gaze darted from her eyes to her lips, and for one wild moment he felt himself leaning closer, and tilting her mouth up to his.…
He didn’t get very far.
Lucy jerked her chin out of his grasp and planted her hands on her hips. “Well, Ciaran? Why shouldn’t Lord Vale be my pretend suitor?”
“BecauseI’mgoing to do it.”
Chapter Thirteen
“You!”
Lucy slapped a hand over her mouth, but it was already too late. Her shock had betrayed her into a much louder exclamation than any proper lady would dare to make while standing in the middle of a public street, a block away from St. Paul’s Cathedral.
Worse, as soon as she saw the expression on Ciaran’s face, she knew she’d said precisely the wrong thing, and in such incredulous tones, too. His jaw was clenched, his eyes a stormy dark blue with anger, and his entire body had gone rigid.
“Are you saying you’d rather have Vale than me?”
His voice was low and throbbing with anger. Lucy, startled by his vehemence, put an instinctive hand on his chest to calm him. “Of course not. I’d rather haveyou, but you can’t pretend to court me, Ciaran. You’re leaving for Scotland, remember?”
Surprise flashed across his face, as if he hadn’t, in fact, remembered it at all. “I don’t need to leave right away. That is, of course I’m anxious to…I can wait until you’re safe, Lucy.”
Gratitude swept over her, but Lucy shook her head. “It’s four weeks yet until I turn twenty-one. You can’t mean to linger in London for as long as that. I can’t ask it of you.”
Her hand slid away from his chest. His own hand twitched, as if he were going to snatch if back, but then he stilled. “You’re my friend, lass. You can ask anything of a friend.”
“Perhaps I can, but I won’t. You’re my friend, too, and I can’t bear to be the reason you’re forced to stay when you’re so anxious to go.”
“No one’s forcing me to do anything, Lucy.”
Perhaps it didn’t feel like it now, but it would soon enough. Ciaran would end up resenting her for it, just as Lucy had ended up resenting her father. Even all the love she’d had for him hadn’t kept her from blaming him. “I still think it’s best if I ask Lord Vale—”
“Vale!” Ciaran’s voice echoed in the street. “The devil you will! Why should you ask him when I’ve just told you I’ll do it?”
Lucy’s eyes went wide. Dear God, he’d justcursedright in front of St. Paul’s Cathedral! They were sure to be struck down by a lightning bolt. Or, at the very least, by Eloisa.
“Hush, will you?” Lucy bit her lip and cast a nervous glance at their companions, but they were far enough ahead they hadn’t heard his blasphemy.
He drew in a deep breath, and it seemed to calm him down. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I’m staying in London, Lucy. Unless you intend to avoid me for the next four weeks, you may as well reconcile yourself to having me as your suitor.”
Reconcile herself? Is that what he thought she was doing? Didn’t he know how badly she wanted him to stay with her? Lucy gazed up at him, her heart turning over in her chest. He was offering her weeks of his company. Day after day of his conversation, his smile, his laughter, his devoted attention. Day after day of gazing into those blue, blue eyes. She wanted that. She wantedhim, for as long as she could have him. She wanted it so badly she was trembling with it, her entire body shaking.
Which was the very reason she had to refuse him.
It wasn’t fair to keep him here. Not to him, and not to her.
“Ciaran.” She laid a tentative hand on his arm. “When we were in Brighton, you told me you’d been waiting for months to return to Scotland. I can’t let you—”
“No.” He seemed to know what she was going to say. He jerked his arm away from her, and cut her off before she could get the words out. “Scotland can wait.”
“Perhaps Scotland can wait.” Her gaze held his. “But I’m not certainyoucan.”
He frowned. “I don’t know what that means, Lucy.”
Lucy drew in a deep breath, then let it out in a soft sigh. “The man I knew in Brighton was…unhappy. He wagered too much, slept too little, and was in his cups too often. He ignored his family and neglected his duty to them. I—I don’t want that for you, Ciaran. I don’t want to see you unhappy again.”
