Page 46 of A Lady of Means (Roses and Rakes #1)

He closed the distance between them, taking her hands in his.

“Moria, I want to be faithful to you, and I want your fidelity,” he held her eyes and she saw no malice, no judgment which felt like a gift. “But I’m not your jailer, I’m not your keeper, nor are you mine.”

Moria couldn’t help thinking of Kate just then and how she’d been included on the Dowager’s guest list at her ball a few weeks prior at His Grace’s assurance the two ladies were friends.

He continued. “I don’t see why two people can’t set out with the best of intentions, and still refuse to be victims of circumstance. Neither you nor I are the type of people who just accept our lot,” he gave a little huff of laughter, shaking his head at her as if in awe. “My god, you were ruined.”

“Okay, no need to harp on about it,” she interjected.

“No, you’re not listening,” he shook his head, pulling her tighter in his embrace as she gave a little breathy laugh of surprise. “You were ruined, just a girl with very little knowledge of the world—”

“Me? Very little knowledge of the world? Really, George, if you're getting to the part where you impart some praise or some positive message, I’d really appreciate it if you’d get to it. I do have a fragile ego, if you weren’t aware.”

He was laughing, shaking his head at her.

“The breadth of your worldly knowledge notwithstanding, you turned a very bad hand into…” He searched her eyes like he’d find the words written there.

“A legacy. You are the kind of lady that people don’t forget.

You made sure they didn’t forget you. Hell, you made sure I couldn’t forget you. ”

“Seemed like you did for a bit, though,” she said, unable to hold back her criticism.

However, his time spent on campaign had given her time to decide what she wanted, time with Devyn that now she couldn’t get back.

His name introduced tears, like they’d been waiting in the wings to present themselves on a tide of longing. She wiped at her eyes with her hand.

“I won’t make you cry anymore.” He held her against him, speaking the words next to her ear, “I’ll try not to, at least. I’ll consider your feelings.

You are an incredibly unforgettable woman, for all that you have accomplished, and I will make you a duchess.

You will have all that you want, the envy of those who likely scorned you or any of your family members added to it.

You’ll have no one’s loyalty more than my own.

And you and I will…we will consider one another, above all things, but we won’t get in each other’s way. ”

It was different from the words full of love and tenderness and heat that Devyn had given her. God, he’d built for her castles out of his words, hadn’t he? What he hadn’t had to offer her, he’d made for her, he’d promised to make for her, with his own hands and heart.

And the words she’d had from Marcus, they’d been the barely there romantics of a boy who wouldn’t get the chance to be a man, the verbal blows of a boy who’d had everything and would never appreciate her.

And the Duke, George, could have promised her all sorts of things, god knows he had them to offer, but he’d been honest. Probably not entirely, he was a man and a Duke after all, but he hadn’t lied, and he hadn’t offered more than he had or was willing to give.

“We…won’t get in each other’s way? I kind of wanted someone to want to get in my way. I’m not just a subject pledging fealty to a noble. I’d be a partner to you, wouldn’t I?”

“A partner,” he said the words, sparks of appreciation lighting the dark olive skin of his face and his warm green eyes. “I’d like that very much, Moria.”

“Good. I think you should kiss me now.”

He tipped her face up to his, his eyes taking on a darker hue to match his voice. “The lady wants to be kissed, then?”

Moria nodded once, lied into his eyes. “She does.”

His lips teased her own. “By whom?”

Moria bit her lip, mock pensive, but really it wasn’t a mockery, she really didn’t know if she could ever want any lips but Devyn’s on hers; but the alternative was never being kissed again, and she hated how it sounded, but that was an awful prospect.

God had not put her on this earth for dowdy and contemplative spinsterhood.

“By a man who knows how,” she said, moving her lips closer to his. This time she told the truth.

“Christ,” he swore. “I hope I’m up for the challenge,” he said, a hand at her hips pulling her closer.

“From what I hear, you’ve had lots of practice.”

His lips captured hers, tentative and lingering at first. When she moved her body closer to his, he pulled her lips in with his, exploring her mouth with his own.

He wasn’t a bad kisser, he was just the wrong man.

She should not be kissing him. But his hand was at the small of her back, and she was marrying him instead of choosing a life of tragic loneliness.

His lips were large and soft, he tasted like peppermints, but he didn’t have a thick end of the day stubble scratching her face.

He didn’t kiss her with his whole body, he kissed her like you might expect a duke to kiss…

a little more than perfunctory, but not like his life depended on her air.