Caroline winced, memories of her past with Lilian surfacing in her mind.
“No,” she admitted in a whisper. “No, I would not.”
“I know how much you love children, Caroline,” he said it without regret or embarrassment. “I have watched how you are with Adrian and Bridget’s boy, Samuel. I have also watched you with Elara and Constantine’s children. You are kind and gentle with them. You possess qualities I cannot grasp, whichis why I need you to come back with me.”
“But—”
“The boy may not be mine, but I am not going to turn him out or send him to an orphanage. Even I am not heartless enough for that,” he continued. “He will stay with me at least until I can find out the truth about his parentage, or whatever I can find out about it.”
Caroline shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She had grown used to thinking about Damien in a particular sort of way, but him taking care of an orphaned child? A child that, according to him, was not even his? That certainly did not align with the man she thought he was.
“So I ask you. Again,” Damien went on. “Marry me. Come back to Mayfair, and help me with this child. You do not want a conventional marriage; that is fine, but Iwillprovide anything you might need. Think of it as a repayment for all you will do for the boy.”
Caroline’s mind churned, caught between wanting to cling to the life she had built for herself and not wanting to abandon a child who was clearly in need of care.
“I... I shall think about it,” she finally said, daring a glance up at him.
It was small, but the hard look on his face shifted to a brief look of relief. He said nothing, but nodded.
“I am going to bed now,” she stated, feeling more exhausted by the day than ever. “You are welcome to the couch if you can refrain from breaking that as well.”
Damien shifted his gaze to the piece of furniture and frowned.
“No promises,” he grumbled.
Choosing to ignore him, Caroline walked to the only other room in the cottage and locked the door behind her. She thought for a moment about changing into her nightshift, but as the door closed off the heat from the fire, she chose to keep her dress on for warmth and slid under her covers.
Damien was a brute. She had known that long before that evening, but the way he broke her chair only made it clearer. Still, despite her concern about Damien’s tendency toward violence, she also worried about something else—what would her stepmother do if she found out that, despite her best efforts, Damien had married her instead of Lilian after all?
What would marriage to him even be like?
Chapter 5
“Cheap, arrogant, waste of—”
Caroline awoke to the sound of grumbling, then startled into a sitting position as the sound of splintering wood erupted from beyond her window. Still half-asleep and entirely confused, she pulled her blankets up over her, despite being fully dressed, and turned to look outside.
Her eyes widened, and her heart began to race as she saw Damien there in the early morning light, naked from the waist up. He had an axe raised above his head, and as she was distracted by the chiseled slabs of muscle that formed his torso, he brought it down and split another log in two. She jumped once more at the sound, but could not take her eyes off of him.
Dear Mary, Mother of God...
Though she had seen paintings and statues of naked men, she had never seen arealman shirtless before. A blush crept into her cheeks as she took in his form. His large forearms were laced with bulging veins, which traveled up into even larger, more muscular upper arms. Hard slabs of such muscle sat upon eachof his wide shoulders, and even his shoulder blades and back rippled with strength as he brought the axe back down again.
She could not help but shiver at the raw strength of him.
Then, as if sensing her eyes on him, Damien turned his head, and a bolt of lightning seemed to run down the center of her body as they locked eyes. Panting, he dropped the axe and started walking toward the window. Her mouth fell open as he revealed his front, which was even more chiseled than his back. As he drew closer, she also noticed droplets of sweat tracing down the cords of his neck, passing between the small valley of his defined pectorals, and flowing over the large ridges of his abdomen, where her gaze became fixated.
“Good morning,” his deep voice rumbled as he stopped just before the glass.
Caroline’s eyes shot back up to his face, and she blushed deeply as she realized how intensely she had been staring. She turned her attention to opening up the window.
“Good... good morning,” she muttered. For a moment, her mind went blank as she watched his muscular form rise and fall with panting breaths; she observed him raise one powerful forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow. Then one of those brows perked up curiously, and her senses snapped back into her.
“What... what are you doing?” she demanded.
“I did not know how long it would take you to deliberate,” Damien answered, wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm. “I thought it wise to purchase some firewood if we were going to spend another night here.”
“We?” Caroline asked.
