Say Yes to the Marquess(72)
This was finally going to happen. They were finally going to happen, she and Rafe. Clio felt as though she’d been waiting for this moment—not for days or years, but all her life.
She twisted to a sitting position, fumbling to button her shift. A giddy laugh escaped her. “It won’t take but a moment. I’ll be right back.”
“Don’t bother coming back.”
His sharp tone startled her. “What?”
“I’m not signing.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t want this.” He gestured at the space between them. “You just know that I want this. What you want is to escape.”
Clio didn’t understand. Just a moment ago, he’d been pressing passionate kisses to her breasts, and now he seemed . . . upset. Almost angry.
Or was he feeling hurt?
“This has been your plan the whole week, hasn’t it? It’s the reason you let me stay.” He turned away from her, reaching to gather his trousers from a nearby chair. “You know my reputation. If I won’t sign the papers you put in front of me, surely I’ll seduce you. And that would work just as well. I’d have no choice but to sever the engagement.”
“No,” she hastened to assure him. “No, that wasn’t my plan at all. I promise. Rafe, you’re misunderstanding.”
He stood, hiking his trousers. “This is why you came to me in Southwark. It’s why you’ve let me kiss you, see you, touch you . . . You’re too timid to confront him yourself, and I make a convenient villain.”
“You are not a villain,” she said.
“Of course I am. You’ve followed my career. You know my reputation. I’m the Devil’s Own. In your eyes, I’m useful for one thing—destruction. Dissolving your engagement. Ruining you for marriage. Punching holes in tavern walls to sell beer.” He threw her an angry glare. “You don’t want me. You just want a way out.”
Now Clio was growing angry, too.
“I am not timid. Not anymore.” Her hands balled in fists. “All my life, I’ve been raised to believe that I am worthless on my own. I’m nothing but a dutiful gentleman’s daughter on her way to becoming an aristocrat’s compliant bride. Even at that, I haven’t been successful. You have no idea how much bravery it took to even conceive of breaking this engagement.”
“Then find the courage to tell Piers yourself,” he said. “I won’t sign your papers. Not today, not tomorrow. Not ever.”
Not ever?
Her stomach lurched. “You can’t refuse. You promised me.”
“You made promises of your own to Piers.”
“I was a child.”
“You aren’t a child any longer.” He loomed over her, bracing his hands on the mattress. One hand on either side of her hips. “You’re a woman. Twenty-five years old, a lady of property and fortune. You could have broken this engagement at any time. Written him a letter ages ago. But you didn’t. You’ve put your family through this weeklong charade of wedding plans just to spare yourself one uncomfortable conversation.”
His accusations poked at her, pushing her toward a dark, unpleasant corner—but the cage of his arms left her nowhere to hide.
She said, “I just want the chance to make my own choices, define my own life. You must understand. I know you want that, too.”
“I know who I am. I’m a prizefighter. I’m not a hired brute. If you want to deal a man a sucker punch after eight years, make a fist and do it yourself.”
Clio didn’t know a thing about sucker punches. But she knew she couldn’t let the conversation end this way.
Concentrate. Anticipate. React.
She shot both hands forward and tickled him in the rib cage. He yelped in surprise. When his arms buckled at the elbow, she grabbed his neck and tackled him onto the bed, turning him flat on his back.
Before he could recover from the shock, she straddled his chest. “You’re not getting away from me that easily.”
Lord. His rigid abdominal muscles were mortared bricks beneath her sprawled thighs, and his nostrils flared like those of an enraged bull. She had the best of him for this one moment, but he would have no difficulty flipping their positions if he wished.
“We had a bargain,” she whispered. “I trusted you. I did everything you asked. I tried on those humiliating gowns. I . . . I bared myself to you, in every way.”
His gaze made a bold sweep of her body, then settled on her breasts. “You did, didn’t you? You let me put my big, rough hands all over you.”
“Yes. And all I’ve been able to think about is letting you do it again. I want you, Rafe.” She pounded the flat of her fist on his chest. “How can I make you see? I dream about your touch. I feel a pang in my heart whenever you’re near. It only gets worse when you’re far away. And I don’t . . .”