Page 76

She gathered all her courage. “Yes,” she said, her voice coming out in a rasp. She cleared her throat: “Yes, I will marry you, Devin.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then they moved together, their bodies leaning toward each other in perfect unison. One of Viola’s arms curved around his neck just as their lips met.

They kissed slowly, their lips moving gently, until desire built up between them and turned to greed, and Viola’s tongue slipped between his lips. She felt Devin shudder, as his tongue twined about hers, sending streaks of heat through her body.

His hand flattened on her back, pulling her closer. “May I hold you more closely?”

“Mmmm,” she said, putting her other arm around his neck.

With a smooth motion, he drew her into his lap until her back rested against one of his strong arms. He bent his head and she eagerly opened her mouth, reveling in a kiss that felt right.

“My heart is thumping,” she whispered sometime later. She could feel the flex of strong legs beneath her, and the warmth of his arm, strong as a curving steel bar, at her back.

She took an arm down from his neck, flattened her hand on his chest, and smiled because his heart thundered under her fingers. It made her breathless, as if she’d caught a wild beast.

He made a husky sound—amusement or agreement, she didn’t know—and sealed his mouth to hers again. He kissed her fiercely, nipping her lip, returning to her mouth, until they were both gasping.

“You can have all the time you want before we marry,” he said throatily, “but bloody hell, Viola, I hope you don’t take months. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted a woman, though I feel guilty saying it.”

She drew back and whispered, “Why?”

“I’m a cold bastard, and you’re so—I have the idea that you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.” His hands tightened on her. “I don’t want to be married out of pity, Viola. I’m not one of your rescues. You’re ideal, an idealist—and I’m not.”

Her eyes met his fierce gaze and she understood that although he would never say it, and probably didn’t even know it, she wasn’t the only one who was afraid. Which meant he wasn’t the only one who had power in their relationship. He didn’t wish to be found wanting either.

Yet she couldn’t imagine that the day would come when she would want to be anywhere but at his side. This wasn’t like falling in love with an unfamiliar vicar who happened by for tea.

She didn’t revere Devin’s eyes or his chin—though now she realized that a square chin was far better than a gently sloped one. She didn’t want to help him in his life’s work, because she didn’t understand mathematics.

But she wanted to talk to him and get to know him. Find out more about his terrible father. What about his mother? Why was he so protective?

And the relentless sensual urge that made her knees tremble told her something else: She wanted him profoundly, to the very center of her being. That, more than anything, meant she should marry him.

“Do you think desire is enough?” she asked.

Somewhat to her surprise, he took a moment to think about it.

“I desire you. But I also admire you, Viola. The idea of marrying you is exhilarating, as if I’d solved Fermat’s Conjecture, the most complicated mathematical theorem that exists.”

“Oh,” Viola breathed.

“Otis says that I’m cold-blooded, and I expect he’s right. But I will try. I will try to be a good father to our children.”

“You’ll be a wonderful father,” she said.

“I don’t know how to do it, other than not to shout at them.”

“I’ll teach our daughters how to fence, in case you challenge them to a duel,” Viola said, laughter gurgling in her throat.

But he shook his head, eyes dark. “I’m serious, Viola. You were terrified by seeing a husband and wife argue, do you remember?”

She blinked, and remembered in a fit of embarrassment that she’d told him the copulating pair at the ball were married. She nodded.

“That was my childhood,” Devin said. “My father didn’t want me to attend Eton, so I was kept at home. He liked having an audience, and I was often summoned from the nursery to learn an important lesson about being a duke—which generally consisted of watching my father howl with rage.”

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Viola whispered, seeing that Devin’s eyes were tight and his jaw firm.

“No. He sometimes threw vases and shoes, but even as a young boy, I was nimble.”