Chapter 4

"Did you just say you wanted to kiss me?"

To Catherine's dismay, her voice came out like a high-pitched squeak. Her heart was thumping in her chest, and her mouth had gone dry. Not to mention her head was reeling with confusion.

So many unexpected things had happened this evening that she was having a hard time processing it. She had been caught out by this gentleman—the Duke of Newden, no less—who had a scandalous reputation with the ladies. And instead of exposing her plan and ruining her, he had shockingly asked her to marry him instead.

And she had accepted. She still had no idea why.

You do know why, insisted a small voice in the back of her head. It is because he can save you and your brother from ruin. The winnings from tonight will help, but they won't cover the whole debt. Marrying him will wipe the slate completely clean.

Yes, she had agreed to marry him, which made her just as bad as all the mincing, mindless young ladies she encountered at Society balls, who made no bones about the fact they were hunting wealthy husbands. She had never understood them.

"My Lady?" His voice was deep, persuasive, and full of fire. "What do you say?"

Catherine jumped. Her nerves were frayed. Just being near him like this—so close, and he was inching closer by the second—was making her feel like a startled horse. He really was handsome. In fact, he was the most handsome man she had ever met… but she wasn't about to tell him that. He was a known rake. She didn't want to just fall at his feet like all those other ladies.

Her skin started to tingle, and she felt a thrill course down her spine. Her body was reacting so strangely—she had never felt this way around a gentleman before. It was most alarming. And intoxicating, as well.

Be careful. Refuse him. Do not let him kiss you. He has agreed to all your terms for marriage. Escape now while you have the chance.

But she couldn't move. It was as if she was bewitched—her feet were rooted to the ground. His scent enveloped her. It was distinctly masculine and incredibly arousing. His distinct blue-green eyes bored into her own, pinning her to the spot.

But then again, she really did want him to kiss her.

It wasn't just that she had never been kissed before and was a tiny bit curious about it. It was because he was just so alarmingly attractive that she couldn't seem to resist.

It was already the strangest evening of her life. Why not end it like this?

"Well," she said at last in an almost prim voice, "we are going to get married after all…"

She didn't have a chance to finish her sentence, for he had already put his arms around her, pulling her towards him as well as into the shadowy recesses of the room where they could not be seen. Their bodies collided so fiercely that she instinctively let out a cry of alarm.

Her head fell back as his lips crashed into her own so eagerly that she gasped. For a full moment, she couldn't even think, let alone feel. She was too amazed by the sheer fact that this devilishly attractive gentleman was actually kissing her.

My very first kiss. And I am in a gambling hell dressed as a boy. Who would have thought?

But slowly, sensation started to overwhelm her, abruptly halting her thoughts. His lips were hard but hot and fierce. Another shiver ran down her spine. Instinctively, her lips parted beneath his, just as his tongue, as slithery and soft as silver, slipped into her mouth.

A stab of desire jolted through her, zigzagging through her body. She whimpered, clinging to him, feeling like she was drowning, melting into a warm liquid pool. She never wanted it to end.

But suddenly, clanging bells were ringing in her head, jolting her out of the delicious torpor. She was in a gambling hell, dressed like a boy, kissing a rake. Even if he had asked her to marry him.

What if some other gentleman walked by and saw them like this? What if she was recognized? Apart from the fact that Oliver would be growing impatient, waiting for her in the carriage. Her brother hadn't been able to accompany her inside on account of the fact that some of those ‘Captain Sharps' he had warned her about were baying for his blood and would probably bodily harm him if he showed his face.

Hastily, she pushed the Duke away. Her breathing was heavy and labored, and she noticed that he was having a hard time catching his breath as well. He stared at her hungrily.

"Why did you do that?" he breathed.

"It was enough," she whispered.

She had liked that kiss. A little too much. Really, she must be careful to protect herself. He was a known rake, and she knew what rakes were like. She should never be lured in by one. Her late mother had found that out the hard way.

"I should warn you there will be no love or romance in our marriage," he stated in a husky voice. "Even if I have kissed you this evening."

Strangely, Catherine felt a stab of dismay, even though she had just pushed him away and wanted to avoid love and romance like the plague.

"Of course," she replied in an irritated voice. "We just spoke about the fact that this will be a marriage of convenience." She looked him straight in the eye. "I do not have such childish notions about marriage."

He laughed, looking relieved. "Neither do I, Miss Audley, I can assure you." He hesitated. "I will call on your brother tomorrow to complete the arrangements for the betrothal."

Catherine felt a jolt of fear in the pit of her belly.

This is serious. It is not a joke. We truly are going to get married.

"Perfect," she replied, her heart still pounding. She hesitated, gazing at him. "When you call on my brother, please do not tell him that you will be paying off his debt. I want him to think that I have won all the money needed. He is a proud man, Your Grace. He would never accept it if he thought it came from you."

He looked amused. "I do so promise." His gaze lingered on her face. "Your brother will believe that I wish to marry you for you alone, Miss Audley."

Their eyes met and locked. The spark between them, which had just flared into a bright flame, kindled again. To her surprise, Catherine wished for a moment that what he had just told her was true, which was highly disconcerting.

"I must go," she said abruptly, her heart skipping a beat. "My brother is waiting for me."

He took her hand, bending low over it and kissing it. "Until tomorrow."

She pulled her hand away before running off, clutching her bag full of the winnings tightly to her chest. Her heart was pounding so hard now that it sounded like a drum in her ears. She couldn't believe what had happened.

"What took you so long?" Oliver hissed when she finally fell into the carriage, breathless. "I was just about to send out a search party!"

"I am sorry," she said, giggling. The absurdity of it all was making her a bit giddy. "It took me longer than I expected."

Oliver's eyes widened. "What happened?"

Triumphantly, she held up the bag, grinning. "I did it!" she cried, swinging the bag. "I won enough to take care of the entire debt, Oliver."

Her heart almost stopped when she saw the look on his face. He was so relieved and joyous that tears suddenly sprung to his eyes.

"Oh, you are amazing, Cathy," he breathed. "I am the luckiest chap in the world to have you as my sister." He hesitated. "Thank you. I will make it up to you…"

"Do not be silly," she whispered fiercely, struggling to contain her emotions. "We are in this life together. It has always just been the two of us. Remember?"

"Always," he said slowly, his face twisting. "Dear Cathy."

The carriage jolted forward. They were leaving. Catherine gazed out the window, overcome with emotion, trying to make sense of the strange evening. Her head was spinning.

She knew she had done the right thing by telling Oliver that she had won all the money to pay off the debt. He didn't need to know that the Duke of Newden would be settling the rest of it.

It was odd—even though Oliver was older than her by six years, she had always felt as if she were the eldest. She had always been the fearless one, the braver of the two siblings, the one who would climb to the highest branch of the tree while Oliver languished at the bottom, hesitant and scared.

Catherine had led. He had followed. But by virtue of sex and age, he was the one who had inherited everything. She knew, in her heart, that the family fortune would never have been squandered in such a way if she had been the son and heir. If she had inherited the title of Viscount Whitley.

But none of that mattered now. She had fixed everything… and Oliver didn't need to know how she had done it. Not now, not ever.

Her fingers strayed to her lips. They still felt scorched from that kiss. Her stomach flipped just thinking about the Duke and their strange, charged encounter which had unbelievably led to a proposal of marriage.

I still do not quite believe it. Perhaps he merely promised marriage in order to secure that kiss… which seems an extreme measure. But then the gentleman is a known rake.

She shuddered. It was entirely possible. She might still be forced to figure out a way to pay off the rest of the debt. Another evening disguised as a boy playing whist, perhaps. Or something else. She would figure it out if she must.

She tried not to notice the small kernel of disappointment she felt at the thought that the Duke might not call tomorrow, and she would never see him again. If that was what happened, it was no loss. It wasn't as if she was in love with the gentleman, even if he made her feel like no man had ever made her feel before.

Catherine scoffed at the very thought. She had vowed a very long time ago that she would never succumb to such foolishness. She knew what men were like. She had caught her own father with one of his mistresses when she had been only a girl, after all.

"You should have inherited the title," Oliver said suddenly, looking shamefaced. "You are so much stronger and cleverer than me, Sister. Father always said that you should have been a boy."

Catherine laughed ruefully, gazing at her brother, her eyes soft with love. "Do not be silly," she said briskly. "You are the Viscount Whitley, and now that this matter is behind us, it will be as if you are beginning anew." She hesitated. "Do not be so hard on yourself, Oliver. You made a mistake. It is fixed. Forget it ever happened."

Oliver sighed heavily. He didn't look convinced. Catherine prayed she was telling the truth. She didn't want to be bailing out her brother for the rest of her life, no matter how much she adored him.

Her thoughts drifted to the Duke again. Somehow, she knew she would never have to bail him out of anything. She knew he was her equal. Or at least it felt like it.

Hopefully, he would prove that to her by showing up at her door the next day.