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This wasn’t what he envisioned when he veered from the original plan. A plan he should have stuck with.
Collect the women. Exact revenge.
Clean and easy and done, and then he could go back to his life. His life far, far away from here and this woman.
Why in the world had he had the notion to seduce Lady Victoria and trap her into marriage? Did he really think marrying her and dumping her far from her home and family would be rewarding? It was a different sort of revenge, yet still crushing to all those who loved her. But so much more complicated.
This was supposed to be easy, with a side helping of one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.
He hadn’t considered she would be impossible.
And dammit all to hades, thatimpossiblewas wearing on him. Wearing him down.
Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, she was kind and lively and looked at him like he may just be the only man to ever see her.
But she was also stubborn and aggravating and unreasonable and questioning with a healthy dose of biting wit layered on top.
All things he rather liked in her when they weren’t driving him to Bedlam.
Shit.
Helikedher.
Liked her as an actual person. She’d clawed her way out of her purpose and grown bigger than just being a mere tool.
The realization hit him as he was switching to her right foot, tucking her left foot between his thighs to keep it warm. Silently, she scooted down on the bed in order to accommodate the odd angle it had sent her leg. But she didn’t try to pull her foot away as she curled onto her side.
For once, she acquiesced to what he wanted from her.
Not that he could look at her quite yet. Not with the current state of his thoughts.
He damn well liked her and he didn’t like anyone. He knew lots of people, could charm the majority of them. But actually liking people? That, he didn’t do.
Yet he liked Victoria. Liked her intellect and her fire and her face that gave him a window to every thought, every emotion she was having. Liked that her loyalty drove the fierceness in her. Liked that she was bluntly honest. Liked that she knew herself enough to ask for what she wanted.
Hell, he even liked how she saved a puppy from a slow death.
No, on second thought, he didn’t like that. Rather hated it, actually, for it had done something to his body, clenched every one of his muscles to the point of snapping when he saw her broken in the snow, tears streaming down her face.
All for a blasted dog.
A dog she wouldn’t give up. Loyalty given to the dog, too freely, too quickly.
So damn trusting.
He hadn’t seen this coming, how this whole misstep could thwart his plans for revenge.
A soft moan drifted from her throat and her eyes closed as he rubbed warmth into her right foot.
The strange purple-pink color under the skin on her foot soon faded, moving back to a normal color, and he hoped he’d found her fast enough that she didn’t lose any feeling in her toes. He’d seen it happen again and again during cold winter storms in the Netherlands.
“Why do you hate dogs so?”
Her sudden soft question made him start. He had thought she was asleep.
He looked to her face. Her eyes were half open, her long dark lashes hooding her eyes in a sultry, sleepy look as she studied his face.
“I don’t hate. It’s a useless emotion.”
