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Chapter 2
Evie sat in a chair in the bedchamber of the most notorious rake in the country. She was tired and hungry. Her leg muscles ached from a tortuous journey from Carlisle to London. She was lucky the man had even come home tonight, or she’d have died out on the street during the thunderstorm.
Everything had seemed to be going so well after she left for the Somerset estate with her guardians. They’d apologized for pushing an unwanted marriage at her, said she’d have her own pick of suitors next season. But then their sons arrived, and she noticed the extra attention, the courting behavior. Her heart had fallen as she realized this was their ploy all along, to marry her to one of their sons and keep the title, the inheritance in their family.
She might even have considered the match if not for the promise she’d made to her grandfather, but the last straw was the conversation she’d overheard between Lady Montbrook and her son.
There are only two ways you can become a duke.Either marry the girl or kill her.
After that, Evie hadn’t waited to see which path her cousin would take. She’d collected her most necessary belongings and ran. She took a horse from the stables and galloped until her mount was too tired to continue. After that, she traveled by a hackney.
She dressed like a man and hid her bright hair under a tall hat, but even then, she started drawing too much attention. So, after a while, she hired a mount again and galloped the rest of the way astride a horse. As athletic as she was, she had never before ridden at such a grueling pace and for such a long period.
The danger for a lady traveling alone on such a long stretch of the road was indescribable. Of course, there was a possibility nobody had suspected she was a lady. Still, the only reason she could find for making it this far unscathed was the providence of God. She had a pistol in her valise, but she didn’t have to use it even once. It was quite possible that looking as she did, dirty and disheveled, nobody thought she had anything of value to steal.
Now she was finally safe. She’d told this gorgeous creature of a man her conditions, and he could either take them or leave them. If he left them, she would probably die out on the street because she had no strength to even move from this huge, comfortable chair. No, she wouldn’t marry her odious cousin, no matter what. The dukedom belonged to her. Besides, she’d made a promise to her grandfather to marry for love, hadn’t she?
Evie felt her eyelids getting heavier by the second. Through the haze of a dream, she heard a pleasant, masculine rumble, but she couldn’t make out any words anymore. Suddenly, she was being lifted by a pair of strong arms and cradled to a rock-hard chest.
“What are you…?” She gave a half-hearted protest, but her strength had finally left her, and she lowered her heavy head onto a comfortable male shoulder. She inhaled a familiar scent of aloe wood and spice and snuggled further into the crook of Gabriel’s shoulder.
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” he said, his voice rumbling through his chest. “For now, you sleep.”
The warmth of his body left her as he lowered her onto a soft mattress, and she whimpered in protest. Gabriel chuckled, covered her with a warm blanket, and in a moment, she was asleep.
* * *
Evie woke up with a start. She sat up and groaned from the ache in her muscles. The rigorous ride across the country didn’t go unnoticed by her body. Something heavy fell from her chest onto her lap, causing her to hiss from the pain. She looked around and took in the unfamiliar room. She was in a bed, surrounded by dark green drapes hanging from the canopy. The room itself was decorated in gold and dark green tones. She looked to the left and saw a man lying in bed with her. Naked. And he wasn’t covered by blankets at all.
Gabriel.
His strong, beautifully shaped buttocks and muscled back were rising and falling with his every breath. His golden mane of hair had fallen on his face, covering his handsome features. She had an inexplicable urge to reach out and move the lock away from his face and then trace the muscles on his back. She licked her lips as she continued studying his naked form. Well, she thought ruefully, she was lucky he wasn’t sleeping on his back.Thank God for small mercies.
Gabriel St. Clare was a tall, lean, beautifully complexioned man in the prime of his life. His features were gorgeous, and he was often likened to an angel, with the reputation of a devil. Many ladies had ruined their reputation for a night in his arms. And as much as Evie tried to fight her attraction to the man, it was no use. She’d loved him almost from the moment she first set her eyes on him, and now she was going to be his wife.
She continued studying his form with avid interest. His arm, lying on her lap, was well-muscled and bulky, his fingers lean, and—
Her eyes widened in horror as he flexed his arm and drew her closer to him.
With an unladylike squeak, she fell on the pillows, landing a few inches from his face. He scraped his hair back from his eyes and smiled his devilish smile at her.
“Good morning, love,” he said with a husky, sleepy voice that sent involuntary shivers down her spine, and something warm passed lower, through her midsection.
“What?” She jerked up again, her lower back protesting in pain. She ignored it and looked down at herself.
She was still fully clothed, in her filthy garments, no less. At least he hadn’t tried to unclothe her. She drew a breath of relief. He’d acted like a gentleman.
“Surprised I didn’t strip you naked?” he asked with a husky chuckle, as if reading her mind. “I do have scruples, believe it or not. I never bed an unconscious woman. That’s where I draw the line.” He bared his white teeth in a smile. “Or, an unwilling woman,” he said with a nod and sat up.
To do that, he had to turn around and reveal his front in all his masculine glory. Evie hastily turned away.
“And as far as I understood by the bargain we made last night, you are indeed unwilling,” he continued, as if nothing indecent was going on. As if he weren’t fully and utterly naked.
He got up and walked to a nearby chair, which contained his clothes. Evie ducked her head and developed quite a fascination with the beautifully embroidered pattern on the counterpane while he drew on his breeches.
“You,” he said conversationally, “need a bath.”
Evie’s head shot up, her cheeks burning from humiliation. She saw a devilish gleam playing in his eyes.
