Despite the arousal his words were doing to her insides, Diana glared at him. “I will dismiss for now my request that you not look at the portrait and point
out that lust is not a reason for marriage.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Is that what you were taught in the schoolroom? Perhaps marriages of convenience or forced marriages might not be for lust only, but otherwise I am sure most grooms lust after their brides.”
She pulled away from him, giving herself some space. She couldn’t think when he was close like that. “Hunt. This is a forced marriage. Or should I say it would be a forced marriage if we went through with it.”
“Diana, we cannot not go through with it. You will be ruined.”
She waved her hand. “I’ve been ruined like this before and survived.”
“I would hardly call running off to Italy for a year surviving. If you refuse my offer of marriage it will be the second time that happened. There will be no recovering from it this time.”
They both remained silent for several moments. Then Hunt said, “This is my fault anyway.”
Diana’s brows rose. “How did you come to that conclusion since I followed you into the library? And it was a note supposedly from me that drew you there.”
Hunt shook his head. “You saved me from potential hell. If you hadn’t followed me into the library, it would be Lady Eunice and me having this conversation right now.” He shuddered. “I can’t imagine the horror of being tied to her for the rest of my life.”
Diana smirked. “Yet you can imagine being tied to Lady Trouble for the rest of your life?”
He frowned. “Where did you hear that?”
She walked away from him and wrapped her arms around herself trying to sort out this newest muddle. She couldn’t think when he was near. “Oh, come now, Hunt. Certainly you don’t think that such a moniker has slipped by me?” She waved him off. “I’ve known about that for ages.”
Hunt drew himself up, a bit of arrogance and, surprisingly, a bit of uncertainty in his visage. “Perhaps you don’t wish to marry me.”
Had he asked that question a few weeks ago she would have easily said, No I don’t want to marry you. We would never suit. He’d been no more than her friend, confidant and savior all her life.
Until recently.
Then everything seemed to change, and she found herself thinking about him in ways she never had before. She considered how it would feel to have his warm large hands on her naked flesh, fondling, caressing, stroking and how far things would have gone when he kissed her in the library if Lord and Lady Grafton had not shown up.
Perhaps she was Lady Trouble after all because she doubted if she would have stopped him.
“Truthfully, I have not given marrying you much thought because I was certain you would never have offered for me unless forced.” She shrugged. “Which, I guess, is exactly what has happened.”
Hunt held out his hand. “Diana. Come here.”
For some reason that soft request had her heart thumping double time. She took his hand, and he drew her into his arms. “I don’t want you to think of this as a forced marriage. It’s a necessity.”
“Is there a difference?”
“Yes. Marrying Lady Eunice would be forced. Marrying you is a necessity.”
“I don’t think it makes a dif—” Her words were cut off when he covered her mouth with his. A swarm of butterflies entered her stomach, and her knees felt weaker than when she’d first seen Lord and Lady Grafton glaring at the two of them in the library.
No black dots, however.
Those were her last thoughts as Hunt turned the kiss into something feral and greedy. He plunged into her mouth with his tongue and pulled her even closer.
She moved her hands up his arms and encircled his neck, playing with the soft strands of hair curling over his cravat.
“Say yes, Diana,” he mumbled as his mouth swept over her jaw, kissing and nipping. “Say yes.” His lips moved to the soft sensitive skin behind her ear. His warm mint and brandy scented breath added goose flesh to her skin, combining with her already erratic heartbeat and fluttering stomach.
“I can’t.”
“Yes. You can.” He took her mouth again, this time adding all the arrogance and loftiness that was the Earl of Huntington into the kiss.