“He couldn’t possibly...he wouldn’t ever...”
“He most certainly would.”
“But that’s awful.”
“I certainly think so.” He shrugged. “My future is entirely in your hands. The choice is yours, Dahlia. If it’s any consolation, we only have to keep up the pretense for the next two weeks. The vote comes right before Christmas. This will also give us more time to read that book together. No one will be surprised to see me come around daily if they believe we are courting.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds most efficient.”
He nodded. “But it has to be our secret. Everyone has to sincerely believe I am besotted and now courting you.”
She struggled not to cry. This was awful. But if she refused to go along with his plan, the safety of every seaman could be put in jeopardy. Indeed, the safety of England. Not to mention the inexcusable waste of having him demoted. He was brilliant. The navy needed him. “Then, after the two weeks, you’ll decide you don’t love me after all, and you will end it?”
He moved to settle in a chair beside hers and took her hands in his again. “I would never do that to you. I don’t know what will happen at the end of that time. Hopefully, we will be done reading the book and have a better idea of what love and marriage entail. But if this courtship is broken off, it will not be done by me. Only you can break it off.”
“Well, it’s the same thing, really. It will be broken off, but you’ll allow me to save my reputation by being the one to do it.” She shook her head again. “It won’t work, you know. There is not a young lady in London who would ever walk away from you. Everyone will know you were only being polite to allow me to end the courtship. Having two men walk away from me in less than a month will ruin my chances of ever making a match.”
Her heart felt as though it was being torn to pieces. She’d dreamed of her come-out season for years, silly, magical dreams where she would be the diamond of the ball, declared an Incomparable, and catch the eye of England’s most eligible bachelor. He would be someone as handsome and splendid as Ronan, of course. “I don’t care about this second humiliation for myself. But Heather’s chances could also be hurt simply for being related to me.”
“Dahlia, you are my Queen Pea. I will never let this happen.”
She rolled her eyes. “That was just a game.”
“Not to me. I give you my oath. Upon my honor, I will not break off the courtship. If it happens–”
“When it happens,” she corrected.
He tossed her an impatient look. “If it happens, then it will be because you chose to end it.”
She frowned. “And if I decide not to break it off with you?”
“Then I will marry you,” he said with steady resolve.
She stopped breathing. “Marry me?”
“Yes. I believe that is what I just said.” His expression turned achingly tender.
She stared into his eyes and tried her best not to burst into tears. How could he do this to her? “Am I supposed to be grateful for this? The noble Captain Brayden comes to the rescue of the sad spinster and endures a lifetime of unhappiness for the sake of her honor and his precious navy budget?”
“What? Where do you come up with such nonsense?”
Her mind was in too much of a muddle to take in what he’d just told her. “I would never hold you to any such promise. How could you think I would force you to marry me if you did not love me?”
“You wouldn’t be forcing me.”
“Of course, I would. Do you not see? This is your protective instincts flaring up again.”
She glanced at the book, resting quietly on the desk, waiting to be picked up and read. Her eyes widened in horror. “It’s that thing. This is why you are speaking so oddly.”
“What thing? What are you talking about?”
“The Book of Love. It is making you do this...spout ridiculous notions of marriage.”
He growled as he rose and lifted her up along with him. “Are you too blind to see how lovely you are?”
“Are you so overcome by duty that you would sacrifice your happiness for the sake of a budget?”
“It isn’t just a budget. Lives are at stake over this. Even so, you will never be a duty to me. You’ll just have to trust me, Dahlia. Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do. But that is hardly the point.”
“It is entirely the point.” He drew her into the circle of his arms, holding her with a gentle intimacy she’d never experienced before. He touched her cheek with a delicacy she’d never felt before. “Close your eyes,” he said with a gruff rasp to his voice.
“Why?”
“Are all Farthingales this obstinate? I want you to close your eyes because I am going to kiss you.”
“But you–”
“Do you never stop talking?” He lowered his head and gently pressed his lips to hers, catching her with an open mouth just as he had done when she was his Queen Pea, and he was her King Bean. But this was not like their first kiss, for this was no light, sweet brush, and he did not draw away after a moment.
Instead, he deepened the kiss, slowly heightening the exquisite pressure until his lips were devouring hers, his mouth warm and provocative as it melded with hers and coaxed a muffled sigh out of her.
She felt his tongue dip into her mouth, teasing and softly exploring, sweetly invading and rousing sensations she never imagined possible. She could lose her heart to this man. Everything about him overwhelmed her. His exquisite touch. The taste of his kisses. His soft growl as he conquered her resistance.
His kiss held the promise of something deep and abiding.
Or was she mistaken? The humiliated spinster and the handsome-as-sin Royal Navy commanding officer? It could not be.
How could he feel this way about her?
They’d hardly started reading the book, and yet he was kissing her as though he loved her with all his heart.
He was kissing her as every girl dreamed to be kissed.
Tears began to stream down her face. Yet another reason why he could not love her. She was a watering pot.
“Queen Pea, why the tears?” he whispered against her lips.
Her response was to kiss him back with a breathless ardor to match his own. How could she not be swept away by this man? This was Ronan, her valiant gladiator, doing what he thought was right, convincing himself it was more important to protect her than to seek his own happiness.
Even if he enjoyed their kisses, it signified nothing. He would feel the same about a thousand other women. Wasn’t this the point of a man’s low brain? To seek out as many desirable women as possible and mate?
But she wanted true love, not merely the pretense of it.
She wanted the gift of it.
The treasure of knowing his kisses were for her and her alone. The pleasure of seeing his eyes turn to starlight and a smile cross his face whenever she entered a room. The heat of his body turned to flames because he wanted her so badly.
Was he offering all this with his kiss?
“Queen Pea,” he said in an anguished whisper, drawing his mouth away from hers ever so slightly, “I’ll never hurt you. I promise.”
He cupped her cheek and ran his thumb lightly across it to wipe away her tears.