Page 79 of Road Trip With a Rogue
“Does she love you?” Justin asked.
“I doubt it,” Lucien said, a faint smile toying about his mouth. “But I fully intend to remedy that.”
“Do you think you can?” Harry raised his brows. “Because from what I know about Daisy, she’s not easily swayed. Once she’s made her mind up about something, there’s no stopping her.”
“I stopped her,” Lucien said mildly. “She was all set on ruining Peregrine’s wedding, but I managed to get the better of her.”
“How, exactly?”
Lucien grinned. “A gentleman never tells. Needless to say, our marriage will not be lacking in passion.”
“I’m amazed she didn’t stab you with one of those knives of hers,” Harry chuckled.
Lucien’s fingers touched the side of his throat, just below his jaw. “Oh, she tried.”
“So, you want to marry her, even though she’s said no,” Harry said. “Fair enough. Have you considered kidnapping? Forcing her in front of a vicar? Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, and all that.”
“You should know,” Justin said wryly.
Harry gave an ironic bow.
“She’s already been kidnapped once this past week,” Lucien said. “Twice, if you count me spiriting her upNorth. I don’t want to force her into anything. If shetrulydoesn’t want to marry me, then I’ll accept her decision. Even if it’s a stupid, wrong decision.”
“Really?” Justin drawled. “You’ll let her walk away? Be ruined. Marry someone else?”
Lucien growled, annoyed at how well his friend knew him. “No, damn it, of course not. She needs my protection, whether she admits it or not. She’s not going to be someone’s mistress, or relegated to the demimonde, or turn into some sad, neglected spinster. I’ll accept her decisiontemporarily. I’m going to marry her. Even if I have to spend the next fifty years convincing her that I’m serious.”
“Actions speak louder than words,” Justin said. “How about a grand gesture? I bought a washed-up racehorse and tried to lose a fortune, just to prove to Tess that I loved her more than money. It was a bloody disaster, because the stupid thing ended up winning by mistake, but it all worked out in the end. It was the gesture that counted.”
“Ididn’tsteal the crown jewels.” Harry nodded. “Despite having the perfect opportunity. Not one single piece. In fact, I didn’t steal anything from anyone—unless it was on behalf of King and Company—to show Ellie I was serious about leaving my old life of crime behind.”
“Daisy isn’t the sort of woman who appreciates dresses and jewels,” Lucien said. “She’d prefer a small arsenal of sharp weapons. But I didn’t survive three years of Frenchmen trying to kill me just to get stabbed by an angry female in my own drawing room. Arming her would be a stupid idea.”
Justin glanced at the mantel clock and put down his cue. “We’ll have to think about this later. It’s time to get ready for dinner.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Dinner was a surprisingly amiable affair. Everyone seemed to have tacitly agreed not to mention anything about Daisy and Vaughan’s predicament, for which Daisy was profoundly grateful.
Logic insisted that marrying him was her only viable option. She had to be practical. Sensible. But her heart ached for impractical, illogical things.
Stupid heart.
She’d derived a startling rush of pleasure from the simmering look he cast her when she’d first appeared in the dining room with Ellie and Tess. She’d ordered her damson silk gown from Madame Lefèvre, intending to wear it to the opera, or the next time King & Co. had a case that required her to extract information from some hapless male who could be counted on to pay more attention to the cleavage on display than to the words coming out of his mouth.
The low neckline was wonderfully distracting, so expertly cut that it seemed as though one false move would expose her completely. It wouldn’t, of course. The boned corset beneath made sure of that, but Madame Lefèvrewas quite deservedly one of the most expensive dressmakers in London. She didn’t just sell dresses. She sold fantasies. Fever-dreams. Miracles of illusion.
It certainly seemed to have captured Vaughan’s attention. Despite being seated at the opposite end of the table, Daisy could practically feel the heat from his regard. Every time she heard the low rumble of his voice, or the gruff bark of his laugh, her stomach clenched.
When dessert arrived—Mrs. Ward had excelled herself with both summer pudding and crème brûlée—she glanced over at him and found his piercing gaze fixed on her mouth. She tortured him by licking the back of her spoon with deliberate lasciviousness, and gained the delightful reward of a muscle ticking in the side of his jaw and a glare that promised retribution.
Excellent.
She dropped her gaze to the almost-healed nick on the side of his neck. A casual observer would assume he’d cut himself shaving, but a wicked, possessive thrill raced through her at the memory of how he’d received it. It was an intimate secret between them, something only the two of them knew.
Worth it, he’d said.
Well, she’d just keep reminding him of that. She was worth more than just his kisses. She was worthy of his heart. His life. His love.