Chapter Two
Twice. Twice within the span of a few minutes this infuriating woman has managed to catch me off guard.
Damien took a step back, genuine shock flashing across his face before years of discipline buried it. That alone should have concerned him. He studied her carefully. Lady Seraphine Fairchild stood in the middle of his parlor, looking absurdly small against the dark furnishings and towering bookshelves, yet she met his gaze without flinching. Most people looked away when he fixed them with that calculating stare. She did not.
Interesting. Bold.
She mistook his silence for hesitation and rushed to fill it. “I know it sounds unreasonable,” she said, clasping her hands tighter before her.
“Yes,” Damien replied dryly, folding his arms across his chest.
“But if you consider it logically…”
“That is rarely a promising beginning,” he interrupted, one dark eyebrow lifting.
Seraphine ignored him entirely. “I helped your family. You know I did.”
“You did,” he agreed, watching her closely.
“And now I require help.” Her words began tumbling out faster. Damien noticed the signs immediately. The slight twisting of her fingers. The careful way she held herself. The tension beneath her composure.
She is anxious. Frightened, most likely. And trying desperately not to show it.
“I thought it was the easiest solution,” she continued. “You owe me a favor, I need a husband, and you need a wife.”
“I need a wife?” Damien asked raising a skeptical brow.
“Yes.” She pointed at him before apparently realizing what she was doing. “You have no wife.”
“An astute observation,” he responded with sarcasm.
“You have no courtship either,” she continued. “And Thalia once told me that you have no intention of marrying for love.”
Damien closed his eyes briefly.
Of course my sister has discussed my views on marriage with her friends. Of course she has.
“So truly,” Seraphine finished, lowering her hand again, “I am helping both of us.”
He stared at her. The silence stretched. Finally, she winced. “I realize it sounds better in my head.”
“Thank God,” Damien muttered.
A soft groan escaped her, and to his annoyance he found it amusing. Inside him, however, a far more serious battle had begun.
A wife is permanent. My wife lives in this house. A wife would occupy my thoughts. Having a wife matters.
And Damien had vowed long ago never to permit another person to have that kind of power over him. Love made people into fools. Love clouded judgement. Love weakened people.
No.
He would not marry.
Lady Seraphine finally stopped speaking. The silence that followed felt heavier than before. Slowly she lifted her eyes to his. The room seemed to narrow around them. Damien found himself noticing details he should not have noticed.
The dark sweep of her lashes. The small dimple on her cheek. The rosy flush lingered beneath her skin from the chilly night air. Her lips.
God help me. Her lips. And those ridiculous brown eyes. Hopeful. Pleading. Trusting.
