Page 62 of A Wallflower to Win the Viscount

Chapter Twenty-One

Lucian wanted so badly to believe her. It would make life so much easier if he could accept that he had done nothing wrong, that taking an innocent young woman’s virginity on the floor of this very study, without finesse, without romance, like an animal driven by instinct alone, was an acceptable thing to do.

But he couldn’t.

Primrose might be an unconventional young woman who could forgive such unrestrained behaviour, but Society did not see it that way, and neither did he.

And, he suspected, if she could see inside his mind, she would not be quite so forgiving. Since they had made love, he had been unable to think of anything else except the curve of her soft breasts, the velvet-soft skin of her inner thigh, and the way her fingers had clawed at his back and his buttocks, encouraging him to push himself ever deeper inside her.

His imaginings had not stopped there. He’d also thought of all the other ways he could make love to her and fantasised of her doing things to him, and with him, that would shock many a woman, not just one as innocent as Primrose.

He moved uncomfortably on his chair, knowing now was not the time or place to think about such things.

There was no time or place that was suitable to think about such things, and the fact that he was doing so now, with this trusting woman sitting beside him, was further proof of how wrong she was not to judge him as being no different from his father.

But was she right about his reasons for wanting to marry her? Was it because it would assuage his guilt and free him from the shame of knowing that despite his determination to do otherwise, he had nevertheless followed in his father’s footsteps? Or was it because he wanted her so damn much and was determined nothing could happen between them again unless they were married?

She had given him much to think about, along with a hope that maybe, just maybe, his sense of guilt was proof that he wasn’t as bad as his father, after all.

That callous monster had always taken what he wanted and walked away without a backward glance. He would never for a moment have thought that he had to take responsibility for his actions and pay penance for any harm he had caused.

Nor would his father have been racked by all this soul-searching or tormented by his desire for a woman he should not be attracted to. That man would just take her as often as he wanted until she was out of his system and then move on to the next conquest.

But by God he was tormented by his continued desire for her. Desire that was going to have to be kept under strict restraint for the next eight weeks while she continued to visit her pet.

Why, oh why, did Clawdia have to choose this house and this room to have her kittens? If the cat had wanted to punish him and make him suffer, she couldn’t have chosen a better way to do it.

They both continued to watch the cat, who licked her kittens contentedly, as if she bore no responsibility whatsoever for his increased anguish.

‘Well, I can see that Clawdia is in good hands,’ she said standing up and interrupting his tortured thoughts.

Lucian also stood. He should be relieved she was finally leaving. So why wasn’t he?

She leant down and kissed Clawdia on the top of the head. ‘Goodbye for now, sweetheart,’ she cooed, causing Lucian’s jaw to clench.

It was absurd to feel jealous of a cat. But he was. Unlike Clawdia, he would never hear such endearments from Primrose, nor would he ever again feel the touch of her soft lips. Instead, he would have to exercise supreme self-control over the next eight weeks, while Clawdia continued to revel in her love and affection.

‘Remember, you are welcome to visit any time you wish,’ he said.

It was not a good idea, but what else could he say? Please don’t visit again, because every time I look at you, I can’t help but think of you writhing underneath me, crying out yes, yes, yes repeatedly as I satisfied myself deep within you?

Lucian coughed to clear the sudden restriction in his throat and hoped his constricted voice was the only way he was betraying where his mind had yet again strayed.

‘Thank you,’ she said, causing him to cringe inwardly. If she was aware of what he was thinking, he was certain that was the last thing she would be saying.

His only saving grace in this entire appalling incident was that he had withdrawn rather than increased the risk of getting her with child. It wasn’t much, but it was more than his father would have done, caring nothing for the consequences of his actions.

She left the study, and the footman escorted her to the front door. He resumed sitting and stared down at his charge, who stared back at him.

‘How the hell am I going to cope with the next eight weeks?’ he asked the cat. ‘She torments me when she’s present, but the moment she leaves I immediately start to ache for her return.’

He really was a pathetic wretch, not least because he had turned a cat into his confidante.

He remained seated, watching her curl up and go to sleep, while his mood sank lower and lower.

A knock on the front door immediately lifted his spirits. ‘She’s back,’ he told the sleeping Clawdia. He stood up but resisted the temptation to leave the room.

He remained standing while he waited for her to be announced but couldn’t hear Primrose’s usual cheerful exchange with the servant. He moved closer to the door, his attention focused, straining to hear what she was saying to the footman. A few moments later the man entered the room to inform him that Lord and Lady Caldwell were requesting a visit.