Page 6 of The Earl’s Tempting Ward (Dukes Gone Dirty #2)

6

T he trip to London was brutal.

Not because the roads were terrible. Just the company. Lady Foster had opted to ride in a separate carriage with her lady’s maid, which left Philippa alone with the earl.

He seemed content to ignore her existence, preferring instead to brood.

She crossed her arms and looked out the window with a sigh. “Don’t you ever tire of brooding gloominess?”

He shot her a withering look.

But when his gaze dipped to her breasts, she smiled. He hadn’t forgotten. He might be content to pretend last night hadn’t happened, but she could sense his desire. She could see it in his eyes every time he looked her way.

Her skin burned whenever she thought of the way he’d pushed her away, striding out the door without so much as a backward glance. It was humiliating. And shocking. Who would have thought the big, bad wicked earl she’d heard so much about would be a gentleman?

His silence this morning was killing her though. She could handle his disdain. She rather enjoyed his anger. But ignoring her? This was insufferable.

“Aren’t you worried about being alone in a carriage with me?” she asked, mostly to break the silence.

His gaze slowly moved over to her as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Why would I worry? I am your guardian. You are my ward. There’s nothing scandalous going on here.”

One brow arched slightly.

Imperious, smug arse.

She narrowed her eyes in annoyance and his lips twitched with amusement in return.

She tilted her head to the side to study him. Oddly enough, when he was acting all high and mighty like this it was almost easy to forget about his scars. They were still there in full view, of course. Perhaps she’d gotten used to the sight of his mutilated skin. When he wasn’t glowering and brooding, she could imagine exactly what he’d looked like before. Exactly who he’d been.

“You must have been an incorrigible rake,” she said suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“My mother told me stories about you.” She ignored his glare and folded her hands primly. “I was led to believe you were utterly wicked. The very devil himself.”

“Were you?” he murmured.

He didn’t protest. If anything, she thought she caught wry amusement in the quirk of his lips.

“Oh yes. Your mother sent my mother regular correspondence, and my favorite part was when she went on at length about your reckless deeds and your roguish behavior.”

He grunted at that.

“So you can see why I’m so offended that you would not ravish me.”

He sighed, looking away as if bored.

But a glance down at his lap had her smirking. He might act bored, even put out by her bad manners and scandalous talk. But the reminder of last night’s embrace was enough to make his manhood visible.

She bit her lip as it seemed to grow beneath her gaze.

My, but he was…large.

Granted, she had little to go on by way of comparison. But she knew quite well where that was supposed to fit and she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat as she tried to imagine that large, hard member thrusting inside her.

Oh goodness. Perhaps she shouldn’t imagine. Her pulse was far too fast and there was a hot wetness between her thighs that was so intense it was painful.

“Stop.” His growl was a curt command. “I know you mean to scandalize me with your behavior, but it will not work, you know.”

“What won’t?” Her chin came up in defiance.

He leaned forward. “You’re hell bent on ruining yourself, that much is clear. What I don’t understand is what you hope to gain.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Disappointment niggled at her belly. She’d thought he’d understood. But no. He didn’t understand at all if he thought she was hoping to obtain something.

Couldn’t he see she was trying to destroy it? The last of her pride, the remains of her good name. For a year now she’d had to suffer a fate worse than death.

Sympathy.

Pity.

Her parents’ friends had swarmed around her, and even when she’d tried to explain—to confess that it was all her fault—no one would listen.

No one would punish her the way she deserved.

They just showered her with more kindness and threw platitudes her way about how it wasn’t her fault. It was an accident.

They knew nothing.

Anger shot through her at Lord Foster’s penetrating gaze. And now he was no better.

He sighed. “We’ll find you a match in London. A good man who’ll?—”

“Or you could just marry me,” she said.

He stared at her until she laughed. She hadn’t truly meant it. She’d just wanted to see his response, and his chilling glare had been worth it.

Far better than his feigned nonchalance.

“Ah, yes,” she continued. “But of course I’m not good enough for an earl such as yourself.” She shook her head. “Whatever would your mother say?”

“It’s not my mother I worry about,” he said.

She frowned. What did that mean?

He looked out the window.

“You do need to marry, do you not?”

Silence. Of course he did.

“You must be able to have your pick,” she continued. “After all, you are an earl.”

He glanced over then, his gaze withering. “Is that supposed to be a jab?”

“What do you mean?”

With a quick wave of his hand he gestured to the burned side of his face. “This. You think any woman wants this?”

Her heart twisted and for a moment she was rendered speechless by guilt. This was the second time he’d assumed she was mocking him for his injuries. “They’re not so bad as you think.”

He scoffed and she felt her cheeks begin to burn. Dratted man, she hated blushing. But she hated it even more that he thought she’d been cruel.

To herself, yes. To him…no.

He might not be the warmest fellow, but he’d done nothing to hurt her. If anything, he’d been doing too good of a job protecting her honor.

“I mean it,” she said. “Once you get used to them, they’re no longer distracting. And…” She swallowed as his dark, heavy gaze fell on her like a weight. “And it’s easy to see how handsome you were.” She gestured toward the unmarred side. “Strong jawline and handsome features… The scars are easy to overlook.”

His eyes bore into her. No doubt he was trying to see if she was serious.

“Still, all the same,” she continued, trying for a breezy tone to cover her discomfort. “I’m certain London society is not easy to maneuver with all the whispers about what happened that night.”

He flinched.

She opened her mouth and shut it. It was none of her concern. And yet… She couldn’t stop thinking about the things he’d said last night. The way he’d seemed to understand her anguish in a way others had not. “Was it your fault?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Yes.”

Her lungs contracted. She waited for more, but that was all he would say, it seemed. “Is that why your mother…” She flailed a hand uselessly. Is that why she so obviously hates you? Is that why you’re never in the same room without caustic comments and thinly veiled barbs?

She settled for, “Is that why she didn’t wish to ride in this carriage?”

A hint of wry, bitter amusement lit his eyes as if he’d heard all she hadn’t said. “Probably.”

She winced, uncertain what to say to that.

But then he added, “It’s for the best, though.”

Something about the way he said it felt less guarded than usual. She arched a brow. “Because if she were here she’d be criticizing you?”

He tilted his head to the side. “No. Because she snores.”

A laugh bubbled out of her and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Her heart fluttered dangerously when her laughter was met with a smile. An honest to goodness smile that formed creases around his mouth and made his eyes crinkle and…oh my.

It was very easy indeed to overlook the scars when he smiled at her like that.

“She sleeps on long journeys, I take it?” she managed.

“Mmm.” He cast a glance out the window. “If you’re very quiet, you may be able to hear her.”

She giggled again and his gaze met hers, soft and indulgent.

That look made her warm all over, in a way that was mostly pleasant. Rather like when she’d come inside and stand before a fire after being out in the cold.

The warmth was welcome even as it stung.

She blinked in surprise at the unexpected feelings he stirred in her chest. This was a first. A first since her parents’ death, at least, that someone’s kindness didn’t make her feel even colder than usual and walled off from the world around her.

No, his rare displays of tenderness and affection caused an entirely different reaction inside of her.

Perhaps that was because when he looked at her he saw her —not some pathetic orphan or an innocent young girl to be coddled. There was no leniency and no pity when he spoke to her. His air was commanding, and she knew without a doubt how he would be like as a husband.

Demanding. Stern. He was a man who ruled over his domain with a firm hand.

She wiggled in her seat. And oh how she ached to feel that firm hand.

She swallowed a wave of embarrassment at the thought. He brought this out in her, and she couldn’t explain it. But as he watched her squirm, his eyes dark and hot, her mind went rogue again. Imagining what life would be as his wife.

He’d be stern, yes. But affectionate too, at times.

Her heart did a flip when she recalled the way he’d held her the night before.

“Where did that wicked little mind of yours wander?” he asked softly.

The low growl made her shiver and she squeezed her legs together tight.

I was imagining being your wife.

Definitely not something she could admit. She’d been teasing when she’d brought it up. He was an earl, for heaven’s sake. And she a foreigner. He did not need her fortune, and while her mother would have delighted at the idea of her snaring a title, she didn’t deserve that sort of triumph.

She didn’t deserve the ‘good man’ he promised to find her either.

And honestly, as she met his dark gaze and felt this heavy weight in her breasts and belly—an effect he and he alone seemed to have on her—she wasn’t sure she wanted any other man.

The idea had barely formed before she blurted it out, “Take me as your mistress.”

His brows shot up. “What?”

She straightened. The idea was a good one.

He sighed like she was some exasperating child. “You’re a gently bred young lady, Philippa. I don’t know why you’re so intent on destruction, but I will not allow it.”

Too late, though. She’d already destroyed her life. The only course left was to find a way to survive the long years to come.

She’d already ruled out taking her own life. It was too easy a way out.

But she didn’t deserve a family, nor a household of her own. Certainly not the blood money that had come in the form of an inheritance.

The idea took hold and she grasped onto it, feeling more alive now than she had in ages. Because now she had a plan.

“Don’t you want me?” She bit her lip, giving him her best coy look.

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not a matter of want?—”

“If you want me then take me,” she said. She threw it out like a challenge and watched with breathless fascination as his eyes darkened. If she were to straddle his lap again, would he be hard between her thighs?

Most definitely.

A little push, another nudge. She drew a finger over her collarbone and down, dragging his gaze down along her breasts as well.

He wanted her. And that was enough. If she tempted him long enough, if she pushed him to the edge?—

Yes. That was what she wanted. She wanted to rile his passion, his anger, his stern command. She wanted to lose herself in her punishment. She wanted to be taken, hard and ruthless. To be used and abandoned…

It was wrong and twisted, this need inside of her—but she knew what she needed to do. It was such a fitting punishment. Such a well-deserved end.

“It’s not going to happen, pet,” he said, his voice a low drawl, so very sanctimonious.

“Would you like to place a wager?” she teased in a sing-song voice.

“If you don’t care who you marry, I’ll choose the man for you,” he said, his jaw tight.

“And when you do, I’ll explain to this man that I’ve already been ruined.” She tried to smile but it turned into a sad smirk. “I’ll tell him I’m spoiled goods and this fine gentleman of yours will undoubtedly cast me off.”

He stared at her long and hard, his jaw working as he considered her. The words seemed to be torn out of him at last. “Who was he? Who was this man who took your innocence?”

She met his gaze evenly. “Why? Does it matter?”

He leaned forward, his eyes so dark she saw his inner hell. “I will kill him.”

She swallowed. It wasn’t an idle threat. It was a vow.

She dragged her gaze away. “Then I suppose I can never tell you his name.” She forced a smile. “I shouldn’t want to lose my lover to the gallows.”

“I’m not your—” He cut himself off with a harsh curse. “You’re playing with fire, little girl.” He leaned over so close she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. “You’re going to get hurt.”

“Impossible,” she whispered.

His gaze flickered over her as he tried to understand.

But if he hadn’t figured it out by now, he never would.

You cannot hurt what’s already dead.

And her heart? Her heart had been reduced to a pile of ash a year ago.