To Seduce a Bride

“Not all men are brutes like your father was,” Basil said quietly.

Lily lifted her head, searching his sympathetic eyes. Basil understood her greatest fears. He had been the one to keep her company when she hid out in the stables during her parents’ battles, or rode hell for leather across the countryside in an effort to forget. He had been the one to console her when she’d threatened to kill her own father for his brutality toward her mother.

“I know that,” Lily said shakily.

“Claybourne is not like O’Rourke, either, even if he does know how to use his fists.”

That was also true. Heath was no brute. He was a strong man who used his might carefully and wisely, and only when necessary.

And sometimes violence was necessary, Lily thought, remembering the satisfaction she’d felt yesterday when she’d felled O’Rourke to prevent him from taking Fanny. She would have liked to do the same to her father all those years ago when he was beating her mother…

“So what are you worried about?” Basil asked. “Claybourne isn’t the kind of man to hurt women, and you know it.”

She did indeed know it, Lily admitted. Heath would never physically hurt her. Heath, who had been so tender and passionate with her. So protective, so generous.

But what about emotionally? What if she married him? He would own her completely then, heart and soul and body.

Basil, however, still was fixed on the physical threat a husband might present. “You can damn well hold your own with any man, Lily, you know very well.” His half-hearted smile was self-deprecating. “Unlike me. You are no weakling.”

Lily tore herself from her own reflections in order to protest. “Basil, you are certainly no weakling. Claybourne has had years of training in swordsmanship and fisticuffs.”

Basil nodded reluctantly. “I know. He fences at Angelo’s salle and strips with Gentleman Jackson.”

“Yes. And you have not had the luxury of a nobleman’s life of leisure, as he has. Besides, you ride nearly as well as he does, and your mind is every bit as sharp.”

Basil looked rather pleased by her observation. “So is yours, Lily. You are a match for him in so many ways.”

Lily looked away. “I am not denying that.”

“Then what is stopping you from wedding him? He would make a good husband for you.”

She couldn’t deny that, either.

“Are you afraid he doesn’t return your sentiments?”

Lily swallowed. “Yes, I am afraid. Heath said he loved me, but what if he doesn’t truly mean it? Even ardent declarations of love from a man can prove false. Have you forgotten Arabella’s first fickle suitor, Viscount Underwood?”

“Claybourne is nothing like that sorry weasel,” Basil said dismissively. “And I doubt he would say he loved you if he didn’t mean it.” Basil paused. “Do you want him to love you, Lily?”

“More than anything,” she said softly.

She had told herself she only wanted Heath’s passion, but she wanted his love. So much that it hurt. Lily felt a stab of longing so fierce that she pressed her hand to her stomach to ease the pain.

At her silence, Basil shrugged and rose to his feet. “Well, Lily, only you can conquer your fears. You have to decide if the risk of marrying Claybourne is worth the gain.”

He left her to her tumultuous thoughts then. Alone in her bedchamber once more, Lily found herself staring blindly out the window.

Could she summon the courage to trust Heath that completely?

On the other hand, did she truly have any choice? Even if being married to him might lead to pain, being without him would be infinitely worse.

Since their parting yesterday, she had felt more alone than she’d ever felt in her life. She already missed him so much that she ached with it.

She knew Heath was right on that score at least: spinsterhood would be cold comfort. She didn’t want to be alone and lonely for the rest of her life. Empty. The way she felt now.

There were also numerous other reasons to accept Heath’s proposal, Lily reminded herself. Most of which he had already argued with her before.

Unless they married, they could never have the intimacy she craved. They would be compelled to keep to the shadows, stealing a few precious hours now and then to be together. They could never have children, a family.

Passion was all they would ever have. And passion, no matter how pleasurable, wasn’t enough for happiness. Heath was right about that, too.

And what of her fear of being treated as chattel? Even as the thought crossed her mind, she dismissed it. As Heath’s wife, she wouldn’t be shackled to him. He wasn’t likely to suddenly start controlling her and dictating to her and ordering her about. Not if he truly loved her. Rather, he would be her husband, her partner, her companion, her soul mate.

And if she truly loved him, if she truly trusted him, she would swallow her fears and take the risk of marrying him.

She did love him, she had no doubt whatsoever. Heath had made her dream dreams she hadn’t even known she wanted. Made her yearn for a future with him. He had touched something deep inside her. Something warm and wonderful and enchanting.

You make me feel alive, he had told her only yesterday. You make me feel joyous and exhilarated, as if each day is a new adventure.

Which was exactly how she felt about him.

So, yes, Lily decided, a soothing feeling of calm settling over her. She was ready to take the risk and wed Heath. She was ready to trust in his love.

Turning her head, she glanced at the clock on the mantel, wondering where he could be found just now. She needed to tell him of her change of heart right away.

She might have to grovel a bit to make him forgive her, Lily suspected, remembering how cold and remote Heath had been when he had left her for the last time. But she would make him see that she regretted taking so long to come to her senses and to know her own heart-

“Lily?” Chantel’s shaky voice broke into her thoughts.

Lily looked up to discover that Chantel had silently entered her bedchamber. Her face was pale, and she was clutching something to her chest.

The newspaper, Lily realized distractedly. “What is it?” she asked, suddenly concerned.

“You need to see this…”

Without another word, Chantel crossed to her and handed her the newspaper. It was this evening’s edition of The Star and was opened to the society page.

“There,” Chantel said hoarsely, pointing to an announcement halfway down the page.

The Marquess of Claybourne, Lily read, has the great pleasure of announcing his betrothal to Lady Eleanor Pierce, sister of Lord Danvers and niece of Viscountess Beldon. The nuptials will take place next month at the family estate of-

The newspaper dropped from Lily’s nerveless fingers while the blood drained from her face. She tried futilely to catch her breath as she told herself there must be some mistake. Surely Heath was not planning to marry Lady Eleanor, even though it said so here in stark black and white-

“I don’t understand,” Chantel said plaintively. “I thought Lord Claybourne wanted to marry you, Lily.”

“So did I,” she rasped.

“He won your game. He has the right to court you now. So why is he engaged to wed someone else?”

She knew the answer. Because she had turned him down too many times. And she was now paying the price. Heath had decided he no longer wanted to marry her.

A surge of panic slid up her spine. Heath had decided to marry Marcus’s beautiful, vivacious sister instead.

He must have asked Lady Eleanor very recently, perhaps this morning or even yesterday. That was the only way he would have time to place the announcement in this evening’s paper.