Chapter Fourteen

The act of intimacy had never been something Selena had given much thought, not even after she overheard the tales of debauchery of her brother and his friends. At first, she'd been detached from the role the women played in those stories because she was a lady and not a woman of easy virtue. They had no bearing on her.

Then, slowly, it became clear. In the minds of the men of the ton, romance was nothing but a pretense meant to appease. An illusion for the disillusioned hearts. A fairytale with no fairies and just tales.

Selena lost interest altogether in pursuing such a shallow offering.

But dear God, this was heaven.

She could only focus on fullness. And at the present, that was Warrick—inside her. His hands... everywhere.

She bit her lip at the sensations that sparked through her body with each of his thrusts. The pain of it had quickly turned to a slight sting, and now the feel of this man's body above hers, his lips trailing her skin, his possession, robbed her of any and all sense of the world around her.

She had come here to confront Warrick with the newest development of the secret club as well as find a way for them to move forward without cutting each other out of their lives. She hadn't anticipated such an outcome as this. But Selena approached new decisions with the same fearless manner in which she approached most things. This time was no different. She had decided to follow her heart wherever it led her.

She gasped as his teeth grazed the sensitive tip of her breast, absorbing all he bestowed, and he—he devoured all of her.

She splayed her hands over the span of his chest, soaking up the flex of his muscles beneath her fingers, his urgency to claim and conquer as strong as hers to claim and conquer him. And she very much wanted to conquer him—his attention, his focus.

And yes, his heart.

Selena jolted at the recognition, but amidst their bodies deeply connecting, for better or worse, she held onto him.

His hand fisted in her hair, and he dragged his mouth over hers, truly more beast than man, driving himself to the same heights she had moments before reached, the pain of his breach transforming once again into dazzling pleasure as he rocked her world on its end again and again.

A moan escaped her lips.

The man was insatiable.

So am I.

The pleasure she'd received at his hands, his mouth, his body was nothing short of wicked. And from deep within, an explosion erupted, the sparks rolling through her body, and escaped through her lips in the form of a cry. Her legs trembled as though they had lost all functionality. She barely noticed that Warrick had cupped her face between his large hands, dragging soft kisses from her temple to her cheek.

And in the aftermath of all the pleasure, his, hers, theirs, Selena's mind shut down. She curled up in Warrick's embrace, not allowing any thoughts of reality to penetrate the cocoon they had just woven. Over the years of knowing him, she'd grown accustomed to his scent, but in this moment, it took on a whole different fragrance.

She inhaled deeply.

She loved it.

She never wanted to leave these arms.

What am I even thinking?

"Selena," his low, gruff voice murmured.

Mmm.

"Princess."

"Not a princess," Selena murmured, not wishing to leave her daze.

A chuckle.

"Why are you laughing?" she complained dreamily. "Hold me. Don't say anything about marriage or consequences."

Strong, powerful arms gathered her up tighter into his embrace. "Who said I was going to say anything?"

She eyed him askance, and he nuzzled her shoulder. "It's written all over your face."

"You are not looking at my face."

"That's because I can hear it in your tone."

"I hadn't said anything," he protested, but there was laughter in his voice.

"Your body shifted in a way that told me you were preparing to bring up the topic."

He placed a soft kiss on her temple. "I won't bring up the matter of marriage or badger you on consequences. I'll wait until you demand marriage from me or badger me on the consequences."

She pulled away a bit to lift her chin at him. "Wait for me to demand marriage?"

"You ruined me after all. Should you not take responsibility in the future? 'Tis your duty."

"Duty, my arse," Selena teased in a deep, mock voice.

"A true gentleman you are."

"Settle in then, you might be waiting forever. I am quite the rake," she declared in her most rakish tone.

Another kiss. "Then I will have to come up with a plan to reform you, even if it takes forever."

Selena settled back into his arms. This was a side to Warrick that she had never experienced before. An uncomfortable knot formed in her belly. She didn't know how to deal with this Warrick. This Warrick had too much power. She could feel hers slipping through her fingers. "Let's not promise each other anything for now."

A short, albeit relaxed, silence fell between them before he said, "I shall not pressure you to do anything you don't want to."

She nudged him. "But you want to, don't you?"

"You know me too well." A kiss. "I'd lock you in this very chamber and never let you go if I had a say in the matter."

"You won't ever do that."

"You seem so sure."

She lifted her gaze to meet the smile in his eyes. "I thought you were not a possessive man. Or have I stumbled upon a grave secret?"

He chuckled. "It's not a trait I value or embrace, but that doesn't mean I don't feel it."

"Well, if you are going to act the possessive man, just lock yourself in here with me." Selena shut her eyes. It would be so much easier to be locked up. Then she wouldn't have to grapple with difficult decisions that life as an heiress with the world at her fingertips presented. "I'm sleepy."

A finger trailed her brow. "Let's rest for a few hours."

"We won't be disturbed?"

"No one enters my chamber without permission except you and your brother."

That brought a smile to her lips. "That's good. We don't have to worry about him."

His arms tightened in response.

Selena waited until Warrick's breathing evened out before she opened her eyes. Sleepy didn't mean she could sleep. Rather, the beat of her heart had yet to settle. He'd use up his forever to reform her? They had been teasing words, but they had struck at the heart of her. The offer of marriage... it was still there for her to seize. The only question remained, would she seize it?

Her gaze flitted over his face.

So handsome.

She wanted his heart, which meant... she had already given him hers. Of course, she'd already known she had fallen into lust with him, or she would never have made love to him. But the instant he'd shouted her name in pure ecstasy, Selena had known her infatuation had already bloomed into something more.

What did this mean for her?

If she stayed with him, if she married him, would her greatest attribute then become Warrick? Would her identity merely shift from sister to wife? Would she find herself or lose herself even more? And yet she couldn't help but recall the loneliness she'd felt with Theodosia at the alehouse when her brother had arrived instead of Phineas. And this morning, claiming him while he claimed her, she'd dropped all and any pretenses to deeper explore this attraction between them.

The scent of him curled around her, tempting her, teasing her, stealing all the wits she required to think. She didn't want to leave. Not like this.

But she didn't want to stay either. Not like this.

She could forget herself in moments such as these. She could surrender herself without question. And she wasn't ready for that. She needed time. They truly didn't do anything the conventional way. First they explored each other, now she had to explore the link between her head and her heart.

She slowly retreated from his embrace.

Living in her brother's shadow was one thing. She had no choice. They were family. But she could never live in Warrick's shadow.

Forgive me.

*

Warrick sat atthe edge of the bed and glared at the empty space where she should still have been sleeping. He had awakened alone in bed, the warmth of her body absent, leaving only an unwelcome cold, bare spot in his bed. He couldn't recall ever falling asleep with a woman in his arms, and even if he had, it hadn't been in his house, in his chamber, in his bed. And he damn well enjoyed the feeling.

A sigh broke free.

He shouldn't have avoided her in the first place. Perhaps then his mind would not be wondering whether he had just been used. Whether she regretted their lovemaking. Whether he had been too beastly?

Given that it was Selena Savage, Warrick could not discard any one of these possibilities, and the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. A deuced uncomfortable feeling, that.

No.

He refused to believe he'd been used. Or that she regretted his touch. Or that she regretted what they'd done. Or that he had been too beastly. No, she'd had ample opportunity to dash from his chamber beforehand, and she had enjoyed his touches. That hadn't been his imagination. Also, the clock that struck in the distance told him it was past noon already. She couldn't stay in his bed forever, could she?

His gaze drifted to the book on the floor—the book that had almost claimed his family jewels—and a wrinkled piece of paper sticking out of it.

Warrick's brows drew together.

He collected the paper, his eyes widening as the contents came into view. His entire body lost its warmth as he read the note to meet at an address he knew, just knew in his gut, was in an unsavory part of London.

Why hadn't she told him? Had she forgotten? Why sneak away like a thief in the night?

"Confound it."

This had to have been the reason she came in the first place.

She had sought him over this mysterious meeting request, but the direction of her visit had taken a turn neither of them had expected. And he distinctly recalled she said they would discuss the purpose of her visit later.

Why then had later become never?

He turned over the note. No name. Just an address, date, time, and—he clenched his jaw—a sword entwined with roses.

Warrick tossed the note aside and snatched up his breeches. He needed to catch that minx. But first, he needed to have his men look into this location. Why the devil didn't she tell him? Did she realize she could lose her life? Did danger not mean anything to her?

Warrick strode from the room and descended the stairs. "Cameron," he called. "I'll be heading"—his words cut off at the sight of three men crowding his hall—"out soon."

Deerhurst raised a brow. "Dressed like that?"

Warrick scowled. "What's wrong with how I'm dressed?"

"You're not wearing a shirt." Deerhurst pointed at his chest. "Your skin is showing."

He glanced down. Ah, bloody hell. He looked back to his friends and shrugged. "What's wrong with showing a bit of skin?"

Avondale frowned. "Are you drunk?"

"Yes, I'm as pissed as parrot," Warrick snapped. "Of course I'm not bloody drunk."

"Your hair is a mess," Avondale pressed on. "Your hair is never a mess."

What the hell was this? "My hair took its own direction today. Should I ask it why it refuses to cooperate?"

Deerhurst eyed him up and down and then back up again. "You seem different."

Warrick glared the men. "If it's about my hair, I've been trying this new style, you can ask Mortimer behind my back. He has also commented on it. So, be off with you."

"Calm down, old chap. We aren't making fun of your hairline."

"Who was talking about my hairline?" If a brow could scold, his would be throwing punches.

Silence.

"No need to get so defensive," Avondale spoke first after a moment, concern lacing his voice. "We are just worried about you."

"You are obstructing my path. Of course I'm in a sour mood." And why was Saville standing there detached and silent as a ghost? If he couldn't bear to look at him or even say a single word, why come?

But by Christ—thank you for small mercies.

Selena had already slipped away, and so did some of his annoyance that he'd woken up without her.

Deerhurst arched a brow. "How can we be obstructing your path? Were you really going to leave your house shirtless?"

Warrick dragged a hand through his hair. He hated nagging. "Why are you here?"

"An intervention," Avondale announced.

His hands returned to his head but this time to rub his temples. "Begone. All of you. I'm not in the mood for this."

Neither one of them moved. Even Silent Saville's boots remained rooted in place. Damn it. It seemed he wouldn't be able to escape this business.

"We are not leaving until you hear us out," Deerhurst said.

"If this is about the duel, don't bother."

"It's about everything," Avondale said. "You. Lady Selena. The duel. This rift." Avondale stepped forward. "Things can't go on like this."

Warrick sighed, resigning himself to his fate. "Let's hear it then."

"Can we retire to a more private setting?" Deerhurst asked, glancing between him and Cameron.

These blackguards. Couldn't they just say whatever they'd come to say and then leave? The moment they sat their arses on a cushy pillow, he'd be hard pressed to get rid of them at all today. He motioned to the door at the left. To Cameron, he directed, "Don't ring for tea."

Cameron inclined his head. The man seemed a bit restless, as though he wanted to say something to Warrick but couldn't. His brows furrowed. He'd known Cameron for years, and though he was content in his position as a footman, Warrick trusted him with all his most delicate assignments and relied on the man's judgement. But before he could ask, his attention got diverted by Deerhurst.

"Not even brandy?" Deerhurst said. "We might need a drink."

Oh, no. "You can get a drink at the club after you've said your piece."

The men glanced at each other but nodded.

"Why do I get the sense that you'd like to be rid of us as soon as possible?" Avondale muttered. "I must say, it's a first."

Warrick arched a brow. "You're only sensing that now?"

He motioned them to the receiving room. "What would you have me do about me, Selena, the duel, and the rift anyway? Out with it so that you can clear off."

"My lord," Cameron stepped up to him and said softly, "can I have a word?"

"Marriage." Avondale's announcement echoed off the walls.

Warrick stopped dead in his tracks. Not this again. "You all know my stance on this."

"You kissed her, man," Deerhurst spoke up. "You need to take responsibility."

"Have you proposed to every chit you've kissed?"

"That's not the same," Deerhurst argued. "Lady Selena is Saville's sister. You should have known better than to cross that line. Think about how Saville must feel."

His jaw very much knew how Saville felt.

But this wasn't about Saville.

This wasn't even about him.

"Well, you can leave," he looked at Saville, "because I did suggest marriage to her, and she said no. You were there, remember?" Three collective frowns responded in answer. "I won't coerce any woman into marrying me. Not even if she is your sister."

"I'm sure she will see reason once Phaedra talks with her," Deerhurst offered.

Warrick held his ground. "It won't matter."

"Why the devil not?" Avondale snapped, his infuriating calm finally cracking. "Don't let this stubbornness turn you into a fool."

They hadn't even spoken to Selena and yet they called him stubborn. Good luck, old chaps.

He shrugged. "I'm holding out for love."

Deerhurst let out an oath, and Warrick directed a steely gaze at him and Avondale. "Since you both have managed to find love matches, you dare rob me of the chance?"

"That's not to say—"

"Stop," Warrick cut Avondale off. "You can't speak of other people's future feelings, so don't even attempt it. I'll say this one last time, I won't marry a woman I don't love and most especially not one who doesn't love me. The end. If you can't accept that, then I suggest you challenge me to another duel."

I'll deal with Selena my way.

Silence fell between the friends. Lengthy. Heavy. The only sound was a door shutting in the distance followed by gentle laughter and the soft patter of footsteps.

Wait.

He knew that laugh.

His back went cold with terror at the same time a soft, familiar voice called out, "Phineas? Is that you I hear?"

Dead.

He was dead.

"What the hell is this?" Saville's lips finally sprang into action with a bellow. "Selena! Why are you here? And what the devil are you wearing?"

Warrick inhaled a deep breath before he glanced over his shoulder to see Selena exiting the dining room. His eyes widened on the robe—his robe—draping her body. Too big, it swallowed her up whole, the hem dragging on the floor.

What..."Why are you still here? I thought you left." Why haven't you left yet? And why the blazes did I just ask that?

"You damn blackguard!" Saville roared. "Selena, get over here!"

Warrick stepped into his line of sight, cutting off their view of Selena. "Run," he growled over his shoulder.

Saville shot forward. "I'm going to kill you, you blackguard!"

"Run?" Selena exclaimed. "Are you mad? Run where?"

Damn it. Anywhere!

Warrick sidestepped Saville, grateful when Deerhurst and Avondale cursed, both leaping forward to grab Saville by the arms, holding him back.

"Field Savage," Selena called out her brother's full name, "don't lose your manners!"

"What bloody manners? I find you in his house and you dare say such a thing! Are you trying to anger me to death?" Saville stopped struggling. "Why are you here? What the hell have you been doing in this house?"

"It's not what it looks like," Warrick said, trying hard to keep the curses from flying from his lips, even though he knew that no explanation could appease the wrath contorting the lines of Saville's face. Damn it, he was being punished, wasn't he? This was the curse.

Shewas his curse.

"Yes, this can easily be explained," Selena said. "I seduced your best friend. What are you going to do about it?"

Warrick's jaw dropped as his head whipped to her. Admitting to a kiss was one thing, but this... There was no coming back from an admission like that. Not a path that he could see.

Unless . . .

Unless he married her.

Unless she married him.

Unless they both loved each other.

But all his thoughts with drowned out by a deafening roar.