Page 150 of Dukes for Dessert

He was glad to hear it. Truly.

“Why are you not with them? It will be Christmas soon.”

She shifted as if the question had made her uncomfortable. “They’re newlyweds, and I wanted them to adjust to life together without me being a dark cloud over their happiness. Reminding them of just how it had fallen apart in the first place.”

“Lorelai fought for you. She adores you. And the Rook—Ash—is used to having people to care for. He wouldn’t mind you sheltering under his roof, beneath his wing. I know him well.”

“I believe you, but I left for selfish reasons, as well. When two people are so entwined, being an outsider is almost cruel, and I wanted some space from Southbourne. I’d been a prisoner there for so long, I’d seen very little of the world. I wanted to travel, design and make my dresses, and fall in love with other places in the world. To see women of beauty in every shape, color, and culture. To find textiles made in foreign and exciting places. To find other passions…”

“Other men?”

She scoffed. “I have very little use for other men. The last thing I considered is confining myself to another husband. I have enough money to live on the rest of my life, if I’m frugal, and my creations are lovely supplements to my income.”

“How very independent of you.”

Lifting herself onto her elbow, she frowned down at him. “Don’t be cruel.”

“I mean it.” He reached up to sift fingers through the silken waterfall he’d made of her hair. “I admire your ambition. I do not blame you for wanting to remain free. I have always lived just so and realize now more than ever what a privilege that is. It is why I joined up with the Rook in the first place. Why that part of my life was so important to me.”

His answer seemed to mollify her, but then she blinked down at him with naked speculation.

“Then why did you betray him?”

10

Veronica became suddenly afraid that the truth would drive her from his arms.

She didn’t want that. Not yet.

What kept her pressed against him was the certainty she felt that he would tell her the truth. She was coming to learn that Sebastian Moncrieff was many things, but not a liar.

Even if that honesty was cruel, as truth often tended to be.

In the pregnant silence that followed her question, she took the moment to truly appreciate the sumptuous railcar splashed in the golden glow of lamplight. The sway of the train beneath them had lulled her into a gentle torpor cocooned in immense masculine heat. Somehow, it’d made her feel safe enough to speak about the past and the pain she’d left in it. And for once in her adult life, she’d allowed herself to trust the sense of security she’d found in his embrace.

It was beyond reason, really, when he’d been such a villainous figure in the lives of those she called family. Ash had been so angry at Sebastian, it’d taken an act of God to keep them from spilling each other’s blood.

But Veronica had learned that villains were often the protagonists of their own narratives.

She remained silent as she watched a plethora of emotion darken his resplendence, and gave him the time he needed to truly contemplate her question.

She’d been married to a villain, and though she’d considered Sebastian a diabolical, even deviant degenerate, the word “villain” never truly stuck.

Even when she was the one to hurl it at him.

It was why she’d been able to do what she’d done for him, even after vowing that life would never again find her on her knees for another man.

He didn’t ask her to. Didn’t push her head down toward his lap, nor did he make her feel guilty for her pleasure when she offered him none in return.

Sebastian Moncrieff had kept his word and respected her wishes… He’d asked nothing of her and delivered what he’d promised.

Of course, he was a beautiful specimen of a man, but that fact was what had made him truly irresistible to her.

Her entire life she’d been expected to exist at the whims and for the pleasure of men. How easy it had been to offer him pleasure, when he’d not demanded it from her. How delightful she’d found his astonished reaction.

When she’d found the act otherwise demeaning, she found power on her knees. She’d known, somehow, that he was her creature. Her beast.

Her villain.