Page 25 of The Marquess Match (Love’s a Game #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

T he room was dark, the only light coming from the low embers in the fireplace. The remnants of their meal sat forgotten on the side table, the tray empty except for a few scattered crumbs and half-drunk glasses of wine.

But Clare barely noticed any of it.

She lay tangled in Ash’s arms, their bodies still damp from the heat of their lovemaking. Her limbs were languid, her muscles pliant, her skin still singing with pleasure. She should have felt satisfied. She was satisfied. And yet…something restless coiled inside her, something she refused to name.

Ash had been the one to fetch the meal, making sure the barmaid who delivered it never caught a glimpse of Clare’s face. She had appreciated the gesture more than she could say. It was thoughtful, considerate—which only made this entire situation more dangerous.

After eating, they’d returned to bed. But instead of taking each other again, instead of getting lost in the physical, something unexpected had happened.

They had talked.

Actually talked.

Ash lay beside her, his arm draped loosely over her waist, his fingers absently tracing shapes against her skin.

“Do you remember the time Lady Oxbridge’s wig came off at the musicale?” he asked, his smile unguarded, real. The one she coveted.

Clare bit her lip to keep from bursting into laughter. “And her daughter had to chase it down the aisle as if it were a wayward kitten.”

Ash let out a deep, rumbling laugh, shaking his head. “God, I had forgotten that part.”

Clare was grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. When was the last time she had laughed like this?

Certainly not in the company of a man.

Her mirth faded slightly as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Lady Oxbridge, wigless at the musicale. And yet I’m the one Society shuns,” she mused. “I hardly think it’s fair.”

Ash chuckled softly, but his humor didn’t last long. His expression sobered, and a moment later, he reached out, running the back of his fingers along her jaw, as if memorizing the shape of her face.

“You didn’t deserve what happened to you,” he murmured.

Clare’s throat tightened. She looked away. “No lady deserves to be shunned for the same sins men commit without consequence.” She exhaled slowly. “But when has Society ever been fair?”

Silence stretched between them.

She risked a glance at Ash. Why did he have to be so damnably handsome? Why did he have to be charming and clever and—God help her—kind?

This would all be so much easier if he weren’t.

She wasn’t even certain why she’d insisted on the rule. No falling in love. Maybe she had been trying to protect him. Maybe she had been trying to protect herself.

But the awful, sinking feeling in her gut told her the truth.

The rule had been for her.

Because if she hadn’t said it, if she hadn’t put that safeguard in place, she would have fallen headfirst into something she couldn’t control.

And yet…she was still frightened. Though she did not regret tonight, or any of the other nights, for that matter.

She should. But she didn’t.

And that might have been the most dangerous thing of all.

Ash should not be thinking about her like this.

He should not be watching the delicate rise and fall of her bare chest, should not be marveling at the way she sighed in the aftermath of taking her pleasure, stretching like a satisfied cat in his arms.

He had never cared much for lingering after sex. Never cared much for talking to the women he slept with.

Yet here he was.

He couldn’t stop looking at her.

She had blindsided him in ways he never expected. Yes, she was beautiful—achingly so. And yes, she had wit and sharpness and an ability to hold her own against anyone. But it wasn’t just that.

It was the way she fought.

She had been cast out, ridiculed, treated as less than, and yet—she had not allowed it to break her.

And damn it all, Ash admired her.

And when, in all his life, had he ever admired a woman he was madly, achingly attracted to?

She was leaving England.

That news had hit him like a punch to the gut.

Logically, he understood it. She had every reason to go, every right to take back control of her own life. The same men who whispered about her behind their hands were no doubt indulging in far worse at this very moment in the private rooms of this very club. In fact, Marsden himself was often here. Ash had seen him more than once.

Clare was right. It wasn’t bloody fair.

And yet.

Ever since she had spoken the words, I’m leaving , something inside him had shifted.

He had tried to tell himself that once she was gone, it would be for the best. That he had only wanted an affair, and now he had one. That she had been clear—she would return to the club to gamble, and while she was here, they could continue this arrangement.

But God help him, it would never be enough.

He would miss her.

And he did not want her to go.

Worse still—he had his suspicions about how she was earning her money. She had a knack for faro, yes, but he had heard whispers of a rigged roulette wheel. And after watching her win, again and again, at what should have been a pure game of chance… he no longer believed the rumors to be just rumors.

No doubt she had decided to take advantage of a world that had taken advantage of her.

And damn him, he couldn’t blame her.

But the thing he truly couldn’t wrap his head around? She had insisted— no falling in love.

Why had she even said it? He certainly hadn’t been thinking about love. Hell, he didn’t even know what love was.

So why had she brought it up?

Unless…

No.

No, that was impossible.

She couldn’t possibly think she was in danger of falling in love with him .

Could she?

The thought was absurd. Preposterous.

And yet, as he studied her, his body still thrumming with satisfaction, his mind a tangled mess of thoughts, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something.

Then Clare looked at him.

And damn it all, there was naked desire in her gaze.

Whatever questions plagued him, whatever doubts he had—none of it mattered.

Not right now.

Right now, all that mattered was her.

He moved over her, caging her beneath him, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was both fierce and reverent. He threaded his fingers through hers, pinning her hands beside her head as he slid inside her, swallowing her moan as he filled her completely.

And for now, this was enough.

He would worry about everything else tomorrow.