Page 63 of The Earl and the Reluctant Lady
Fletcher’s eyes found hers, and there was so much raw emotion in them—humiliation, hurt, and anger—that her knees nearly buckled under the weight of his perusal.
She shook her head.
“W-w-what’s the m-m-matter, boy?” his grandfather said. “A-a-afraid she’ll learn the truth about you?”
But Fletcher did not take the bait. He merely closed his eyes. Thankfully, the maid was able to usher the duke out of the room.
Fletcher came to her and gripped his hands on her biceps. “I don’t even know what to say. Other than I’m sorry.” His thumbs rubbed circles on her skin.
“I’d heard rumors,” she said. “And you’d told me…”
“But he’s so much worse? Yes, I know.” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen him be kind to anyone. He’s always had a special hatred for me, though.”
“Well, he can’t live forever.”
Fletcher chuckled. “That’s what the doctors keep telling me, but so far, he’s proving them wrong.” His hands continued to rub her arms. “In any case, I’m very sorry you had a run-in with him.”
She swallowed. “It isn’t your fault. I came here to see you. This is his home.”
“What you said about me…” He cupped her cheek. His hazel eyes searched hers.
“He should never speak of you in such a way. He is nothing more than a tyrant.”
“You stood up to him. For me,” he said.
She nodded.
They stood there in silence for a few moments, him holding her face, just gazing at each other. Then he frowned. “Agnes, why are you here?”
“You left,” she said, her voice coming out softer than she’d intended.
He nodded. “I knew if I stayed I would have taken your virtue.”
She winced. “That is what I was afraid of.” She blew out a breath. “You obviously didn’t believe me when I explained that I wasn’t trying to trap you into marriage,” she said. “My virtue is yours to have.” She felt her cheeks heat and knew a blush stained them.
He gave her a devastating smile. “You misunderstand, Agnes. I came back because I want to do things right. The thought of Sullivan or any other man putting his hands on you enrages me.”
Her heart pounded. She smiled.
“Agnes, it has only ever been you. You are it for me. Since that first moment I saw you.”
“That’s a lovely sentiment, Fletcher, but I am no fool, nor am I blind. I have seen you with more women than I can count. You have a reputation as the greatest lover in London, for heaven’s sake.”
“Would you believe they were all stand-ins for you? When you can’t have the one you want, you take what you can get.”
Her heart pounded in response. She willed those words to be true. Would that mean he’d be faithful to her? “That’s terrible.” Then she grinned. “For them. For me, it is a rather nice sentiment.”
His mouth lowered to hers again, his lips sweeping across hers. She parted for him and his tongue slid over hers. She moaned into his kiss. There was no hiding her wantonness from him. He was the one who set it free. Her hands slid around his neck, fingers digging into his hair.
He released an animalistic growl that flooded her with desire. He deepened the kiss and she molded her body to his.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing?” a voice came from behind them. “Get your bloody hands off my sister!” Then Christopher was there, shoving her aside and slamming his fist into Fletcher’s face.
“Christopher! No!” Agnes yelled.
“You promised, you son of a bitch,” Christopher said, paying her no attention. He hit Fletcher again. Then again. One to the stomach, another to the side. “I warned you.”
Fletcher stood there, arms at his side, no defense of himself as her brother pummeled him. Why wouldn’t he defend himself? Why wouldn’t he fight for her?
“Enough!” she yelled again, this time pulling on her brother’s coat.
