Deepest Desires of a Wicked Duke(120)
“Hardly empty. You’ve had all those shocking parties.”
“I was trying to blank out the pain of losing you.”
“And you’re going to give them up for me?”
His brown eyes, dark and intense, gleamed at her. “Yes, I love you. Of course I will change for you.”
She had always feared that men did not change. But she knew that Sin had changed very much. He had been an abused boy—he had grown into a noble, wonderful man. “Actually, I like you just as you are,” she whispered. “And if you want wild orgies, I could . . . I could go to them with you.”
“What?” He was looking at her as if he didn’t understand a word she’d said.
“I shouldn’t expect you to change so much. You like wild sexual orgies. And I—I felt aroused by the idea of them too. If I don’t change, I will lose you. I’m sure of it.”
“You won’t—”
“I would like to embrace your life, Sin. I will go to your orgies too. If you wish me to.” He looked shocked. “Oh dear, I’m too ordinary and plain, aren’t I—”
“You are beautiful. You are my fantasy come true, Portia.” He lifted her hand and kissed her ring finger. “That’s in place of an engagement ring for now. In your honor, I will throw the largest, grandest party I’ve ever held. It will be . . . like nothing I’ve ever hosted before.”
“You mean very wild?”
“Indeed.” His eyes twinkled. “Extremely wild.”
She swallowed hard. But she couldn’t deny. She felt a tug of curiosity. And a sudden heart-thumping, burning arousal. “Oh goodness,” she said suddenly. “We’re engaged. We’re going to be married.”
“Regretting it?”
He actually looked uncertain and vulnerable.
“No,” she said firmly. “Awed by it. I’ve loved you for ten years as well. If you hadn’t asked me to marry you again, I was going to ask you.”
His smile dazzled. “I’m honored. And we should be making up for lost time.”
She looked down. “Goodness, you’re hard again!”
25
Sin gently woke her when they arrived at her foundling home. Portia felt rather groggy and Sin had to help her sit up, for she’d fallen asleep curled up against his long, lean body.
“Let me straighten your dress,” he said.
She looked down at it and sighed. “I think that is hopeless. It’s dirty and crumpled. After all, I was kidnapped in this dress. I couldn’t bring myself to wear the one left for me on the island. I left it behind and I hope it is burnt. Anyway, my family would have been scandalized to see me wearing it. As it is, I have no idea how I will explain what did happen.”
“I will explain everything to your family,” he said gravely.
“No, we’ll try to explain everything together. I do not know if my brothers will believe this.”
She tried to speak with calm, but she fluttered with nerves inside.
Sin jumped out of the carriage, then handed her down and Portia gazed up at the brick foundling home. Inside, all the children must be sleeping. That thought warmed her heart.
“You look delighted to be home,” Sin said softly.
“I can’t wait to see all the children. They’ll be in bed now, of course. But I can look in on them.” She met his gaze. “Thank you. Thank you for rescuing me.”
“It was my pleasure. And privilege.” And the honest, husky tone of his voice touched her heart.
Then Portia rapped on the door of her home, the home she had grown to love with all her heart because of the children within. She didn’t care about the chores she did, if it meant that all these children were safe from the harshness of the slums.
It took several minutes, but the door was opened and Merry stood there. Merry’s jaw dropped. “Miss! Where have you been? We were all terrified. We thought you’d been taken across the sea and sold into one of those harems!”
“I’ve had adventures, Merry, but they were on an island off the coast of England. And, Merry, I would like to introduce you to the Duke of Sinclair.”
“Cor blimey,” Merry gasped. “Miss Lamb, are you going to be a duchess?”
* * *
Sin watched Portia tell her maid what had happened on Serenity Island, her story careful to remove scandalous elements and to downplay the danger. Portia was warm and sweet with the maid, and efficient and brisk when necessary to keep the girl from getting upset. He’d always admired that about Portia—her strength and ability to take command. Even when his friends had insisted he should want to marry a rich, simpering girl, he’d known none could compare to Portia.