Persuasion (25 page)

He could not help it. He laughed at the blatancy and nonchalance of her

words and turned his head to awkwardly stare up at her from his position in

the warm depths of his favorite armchair.

Lily was once more clad in the traveling cloak and as soon as she closed the

door behind her, she stepped out of it. His brows arched as she lay the

swathe of material over the vacant chair beside him and his eyes followed

her every movement as she walked around his chair to come and sit with

him.

And she literally sat with him.

Lily perched her pert behind on his knee and sank back against him, pushing

them both against the armchair's backrest.

“How was your day?” she asked quietly and sighed as he tucked his arms

about her.

A grin graced his lips. This was all very domesticated, he thought, but for

some reason, he rather liked it, especially as she seemed content to chat.

There were some questions he wouldn't mind hearing the answers to and

this gave him the perfect opportunity. He had swiftly noticed yesterday that

she could be an evasive minx.

“It has been . . . uneventful,” he replied truthfully.

“That is probably because you haven't left the house,” she commented dryly.

“And how do you know that?”

“My dear Earl, I highly doubt that you would leave the house in your current

apparel!” she remarked and peered down at his red tartan waistcoat that

was hardly the latest in fashion, but was nice and warm and the English

summertime was being its usual fickle self. The day had been quite cold!

He said as much and watched as she grinned. “I do not care what you wear,

and red is in fact, quite the color when combined with your hair, my lord

Dorian. But, it was a salient point, no?”

“Yes, my dear, I concede that point in your favor.”

“Ah, that pleases my competitive nature.”

“You are competitive?”

She laughed.

He simply grinned as she nodded.

“I have a brother, Dorian. Of course, I'm competitive.”

“Aye, I've met Devlin. I imagine becoming the Marquess has killed some of

that boisterous nature of his . . . . A shame that.”

“Indeed, but you are only half correct. Inheriting the title has hardly phased

him. It is our mother's condition that concerns both him and myself.”

“I can imagine.” He nodded solemnly then sighed. “Have you attended any

of the ton's vapid events?”

She ducked her head and shook it quickly. Dorian raised a brow and chucked

her under the chin with his thumb.

Lily stared at him as she bit her lip. “I have been ill, my lord.”

He tutted. “Dorian! Not, my lord! You should be in bed, if you've been ill,

Lily,” he stated with a frown.

“That is why I did not wish to tell you! I knew you would say that. But it is

too late. For I am here!” she muttered defiantly.

Dorian rolled his eyes but sighed with defeat as she glared at him. "You left

early this morning,” he quietly commented rather than further chastising her

about failing to take care of herself. As he spoke, Dorian lifted a hand to play

with a tousled strand of rose gold hair.

Her lips curled nervously inwards and he dropped her hair to trace a finger

along the line of her mouth. “You were sleeping so peacefully, I did not wish

to wake you.”

“I doubt a cannon being fired in the room would have wakened me. I was

dead to the world, my dear. Your very kind administrations enabled me to

sleep peacefully for the first time in a week. For nothing else but that, I

thank you! You are more addictive and more effective than laudanum. If I

were a physician, I would publish the effects of my study of your body in a

medicinal journal.”

Lily smiled faintly and prodded her finger against the slight dimple in his

chin. She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, then sighed

with pleasure as she rubbed her nose against his jaw.

“Have you decided upon your true reason for your visits here?” he asked

quietly, sorry to shake the soft mood but curious as to her reply.

She jolted in his hold and had she not been pressed so closely to him and

had it not been awkward, he knew she would have jumped out of the chair

and on to her feet.

“I-I told you why! I do not wish to marry, but that does not mean that I am

dead from the waist down.”

He hummed under his breath and trailed a finger over the taut skin of her

cheekbone. “There is something about your words that prods me into

disbelief, I'm afraid, Lily. Have you ever heard of the quote; 'The lady doth

protest too much, methinks . . . ?' I find it quite suits your tone.”

“Well, that is an issue of your own making, my lord! Not mine!” she said

tartly. “I am not protesting too much. I am annoyed at being questioned.”

Dorian laughed. “Indeed. But there is no need to be so prickly. It was only a

remark.”

“Yes! One that inferred I was lying!”

“Not lying, per se, perhaps distorting the truth.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do not distort the truth yourself! What do you wish to

hear? That I'm madly in love with you and can't stand to be apart from

you?”

He stilled. “Would it frighten you if I said yes?”

It was her turn to freeze. She pivoted towards him and with a slightly

trembling hand, cupped his chin. “Would you mean it?”

Dorian nodded.

Her mouth trembled. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you, standing

there with your cronies, somber and serious as they laughed and joked.

Then we danced. Your body was pressed against mine. Your face was but an

inch away from my own. I wanted nothing more but to kiss you. And then . .

. you walked away.” She laughed. It was a cold sound that prodded him into

flinching slightly.

“As ridiculous as it seems, Dorian, m-my body missed the imprint of your

own. In that twenty minute dance, it had grown accustomed to the heat and

pressure of your weight against it. From that moment, my mind . . . and my

heart were not my own.”

She paused and ducked her head. He fought hard to stay silent and let her

speak her own words at her own pace, but it was difficult, for the quaver of

truth in her statement had desire flooding through him like a river that had

burst its dam.

To think that she wanted him, had wanted him from the first . . . . It sent

shock waves along his spine. She licked her lips and his eyes focused on that

as though her mouth held the truth and knowledge behind man's very

existence.

“I am here, because I love you, Dorian, because I want to be with you.” Her

lips opened and for endless moments she hesitated. When she next spoke,

he instinctively knew that Lily was not about to divulge the words that had

been on the very tip of her tongue.

Her eyes held the truth, but her mouth disclosed a different sentiment

entirely. “It is the duty of every debutante to know any and all information

of any free bachelor. My aunt told me of your wife and her death,” she

whispered huskily. “I could not imagine after your trauma that you would

even wish to attend the ton's ridiculous events, and yet I saw you there. And

you appeared to be as miserable as I had imagined. It hurt me, literally hurt

me, to see you surrounded by the superficiality of your friends and their

jocular humor in which you were not joining.

“I knew I had to know you. If for one moment, I could lighten your load, I

determined to do so. Not out of pity,” she hurriedly added, spying the

militant look in his eye. “Out of . . . love. I wanted to ease your pain and

take it away. I know now the pain stems from another matter entirely but

that does not change how I felt.”

He nodded slowly and stared deeply into her green eyes. Truth was

embedded at the very root of those emerald irises, but there was also

another emotion, one that he could not entirely discern.

Was it sorrow?

Perhaps pain?

“You felt sorry for me, do not deny it,” he murmured wryly.

Lily scowled up at him. “Do not joke about this, Dorian. I did not! If I'm

honest, I understood your situation. How could I not? My mother can barely

cope with the thought of life without my father . . . . Surely it is quite natural

for two people who have suffered with grief to understand the other's heart.

I empathized with your predicament.”

“What every red blooded man wishes to hear!”

She slapped his shoulder. “Blue blooded, my dear. Blue blooded,” she chided

with a wink.

He grinned. “Touché.”

“I was taught by a master. There was a reason my father nicknamed my

brother, Devlin the Devil!”

He pondered that a moment and traced a finger along the line of her collar

bone. “You're in London with your aunt?”

“Yes and my uncle too. They very kindly agreed to house me during my

Season, although I quite believe that Aunt Millie is enjoying the fuss a lot

more than I am!”

“I take it she is completely unawares as to your current location?”

She smiled. It was a slow, teasing expression of the minx's humor. “If you

mean that she does not know that I am seated upon my lover's lap in

naught but my petticoat . . . then, yes, you are indeed correct, Dorian. I am

quite certain that she would expire with shock were she to learn the

complete truth!”

He grinned and once again conceded the point. It was a long time since he

had felt so charged with life, so eager to cross swords with a worthy

opponent in a conversation that truly mattered. Vibrancy, a gift from her to

him flooded him and for the first time in years, he felt alive, truly alive.

“Is your family completely blind to the fact that you do not wish to wed?” he

asked, his tone muted so as not to display his sheer wonder at possessing

this woman's love and its effects on him.

She shrugged. “They know. My aunt is quite certain that I am merely

suffering with trauma from my papa's death and is equally as certain that,

like my mama, I shall fall instantly in love with my future husband.

Apparently, it is quite the family trait, even more so than our auburn hair.

Well, that is in the world according to Aunt Millie. My papa once said that

unicorns and fairies exist in her world, and I don't find that too difficult to

believe!”

She paused and a strange expression overcame the cast of her futures. “My

brother doesn't give a damn," she frowned as she swiftly continued. "My

mother wants what is best for me, even in her dazed state. My uncle knows

that I will not be forced and, for the most part, leaves me be. My aunt

attempts to match make, and I try my damnedest to foil her plots.

“Indeed, she has me settled in the country with some sixty-something,

dandified coxcomb! While I care for my aunt and uncle's opinion, I will only

do what I please.”

“I had gathered! Very few young misses would steal into a prominent Earl's

townhouse in search of the sinful pleasures of the flesh!” he murmured

quietly and tried to hide the anger he felt at her aunt's interference.

It was quite idiotic to feel jealousy or even anger, but feel it he did. More

than anything, it brought home how he felt about her, how deep his feelings

truly ran. To say it surprised him was an understatement.

“Ah, but that is because I am unique,” she retorted with a chortle. “I have

never denied this fact.”

“So one is classed as unique if one breaks every rule in our society?”

“Yes, of course!”

He hid a smile and leaned forward to nuzzle his face against her throat. Her

scent was like pure gold to his nostrils, and he inhaled it until he felt sure he

would never forget it.

Only this morning, when he had awoken to his butler Hague's surprised

cough and realized that he was quite alone, had Dorian realized how

imperative this one lady's presence was to his peace of mind. Not only had

she gifted him with the best night's rest of the month, even if it had been in

front of the dying fire and on the floor, she had lifted the veil of darkness

that had been encompassing him these years past.

Ever since Camille's betrayal, he had spiraled into a path of self-destruction .

. . . It would be ridiculous to say that this woman had prevented him from

traversing any more of that particular path, but she had jolted him from . . .

what did she call her mother's grief? . . . stasis! Yes, indeed, she had jolted

him from the stasis that had absorbed him so entirely.

He could do naught but thank her for that. He could do naught but love her.

“You are quite a comic, Lily.”

“No, I'm not really, and, in this case, I'm being deadly serious. I-I do admit

that it is in every person's nature to follow the crowd, but one must break

away for fear that one will become a sheep. I do not deny that it took my

father's death to prod me into this realization, but I am not jesting about my

wishes for the future, Dorian. Perhaps they are a little different, a tad

unusual, but it is what I want. And why should the rest of the ton's opinion

matter to me?”

He said nothing, just pressed a kiss to her neck.

With a jolt, Lily blinked at the sensitive press of his lips against the tender

flesh of her throat and wondered if he believed her nonsensical attempt to