Page 42 of The Forbidden Lord (Lord Trilogy #2)

“No, you don’t. You said you have no use for virgins.”

“I know what I said. If matters had been different, I wouldn’t have sought one. But I’ve already had the virgin, so honor dictates I must marry her.”

She twisted away, her face filling with hurt. “Honor? That’s why you wish to marry me? To preserve your honor?”

“Now, Emily--” he said soothingly as he reached for her.

Swatting his hands away, she caught up her gown and pressed it to her chest like a shield. “I don’t want your honor!”

With a scowl, he found his drawers and drew them on. This was turning into a lengthy discussion, the last thing he wanted right now. What he wanted was to take her back to bed and make love to her again.

But it appeared she would have none of that.

Obviously, she wanted him to make some foolish vow of love.

Well, she was not getting that from him.

Bad enough he was so obsessed with her that even the thought of marrying her made his blood race and his hands itch to hold her again.

That was all the power over him he wished to give her.

“We are going to be married, Emily,” he said evenly as he advanced on her. “That’s the only way to fix this situation.”

“There is nothing to fix.”

“Isn’t there? Come now, Emily, you were so desperate for my silence that you ruined your entire future to obtain it. I’d say there’s a great deal that needs fixing, and marrying me will certainly do it. Nesfield won’t be able to touch you then.”

Frantically, she scrambled into her gown. “You don’t understand. I have to continue my masquerade, and you mustn’t stop me. I won’t let you stop me.”

“Why?” He grabbed her by the shoulders as she tried to pull up her gown. “What is so important about this masquerade that you’d go to such lengths to protect it?”

For a moment, he thought she might actually tell him. Then her face stiffened, and she shifted her gaze to the door behind him. “Let me go, Jordan. Unless you intend to keep me a prisoner here, I’m leaving. Now.”

He dug his fingers into her shoulders, fighting the urge to shake her.

“What must I do to prove I have only your welfare at heart? You said once that you couldn’t trust me because I felt only lust for you.

But I’ve offered you marriage. If that doesn’t prove you can trust me with the truth, what will? ”

She slumped in his arms. “It’s not a matter of trusting you. If I … tell you, then I risk a more certain ruin than the loss of my virginity. More than that I cannot say.”

“Nesfield, devil take him. I won’t let him hurt you.”

“You can’t stop him.”

He thrust her away and strode to where his clothes lay on the floor. “We’ll see about that,” he snapped as he dressed.

“No!” She jerked up her gown, then ran to him and grabbed his arm. “No, Jordan, you must leave him alone.”

“He’s taking advantage of an innocent young woman. I will not leave him alone.”

“You promised!” she cried as she clung to his arm. “You said if I came to your bed, you would keep silent.”

He froze, looking down at her pale face and panicked eyes.

Her unfastened gown—that damned scarlet gown—hung so low he could see the lacy edge of her chemise, and beneath it, the creamy swell of one breast. She’d been so desperate for his silence that she’d given herself to him even though she thought he wouldn't marry her.

“I did my part,” she whispered. “Won’t you do yours?”

Deuce take her. He couldn’t refuse when he knew how much she’d relinquished for his silence.

And yet … She’d asked him not to say anything to Pollock or Nesfield. He could only assume that she would also consider his speaking to Lady Dundee a violation of their agreement.

But there was one person to whom he could speak, who could make her recognize the wisdom of marrying him.

“All right.” When she stared at him warily, he straightened her gown on her shoulders so that it hid her most obvious temptations. “I won’t say anything to Nesfield or Pollock, if that’s what you wish.”

“That’s what I wish.”

“As for marrying you--”

She touched a finger to his lips. “No more about that. I don’t expect you to sacrifice yourself for propriety’s sake.”

“It wouldn’t be a sacrifice,” he whispered, and meant it.

“All the same, you needn’t marry me.” When he went rigid, she added, “Please, let’s not discuss it anymore. I only want to go, before they discover I’m missing. The hackney coach is waiting outside--”

“I’m not letting you ride about town in a hackney at this hour,” he said firmly. “I’ll take you home in my coach.”

“What if someone sees us together and guesses--”

“At three a.m.? No one will see us. And if it makes you feel better, I’ll stop a short distance from Nesfield’s.”

She looked relieved. “Thank you. To be truthful, I didn’t fancy the long ride back with that … that awful man in the hackney coach. I think he was a little drunk.”

“No doubt. Now, why don’t you get out of that gown and wash up.” He gestured to the water basin on his dressing table. “I’m sure I can find one of my sister’s gowns for you to wear home that’s not so … provocative.”

At her blush, he nearly smiled. Somehow even in her “fallen” state, she managed to be as pure as ever.

“While you’re dressing,” he added, “I’ll rouse the coachman.” And tell him to prepare for a trip. A long trip. Because no matter what she thought, this night was not over yet.