Prelude to a Scandal. Delilah Marvelle

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СКАЧАТЬ Water rapidly pooled and spread its wet fingers across the floor, streams and streams leaking from the hem of her gown and the edges of her now-flat sleeves. She glared at him, her smooth cheeks ablaze.

      His breath hitched as he looked away, trying not to focus on the outline of her body or her face. He could still remember all too fondly when she’d first arrived from Africa two years ago at a lush eighteen and as sweet as Tokay. Her hair had borne brilliant streaks of spun gold and her skin had been so beautifully tinted from the sun, unlike the pasty faces London was notorious for. Though her skin had long paled, leaving behind a faint trail of freckles, and the golden streaks in her hair had faded into what was now a subdued, chestnut hue, she was still absolutely stunning. And that was just her face.

      Justine set her chin and marched past his four-poster, trailing a glistening stream of water. “I require more respect than this. The marriage is off. Good night, good riddance and goodbye.”

      Radcliff winced, knowing she probably meant it, and jumped off the bed. He refused to be left alone with his thoughts anymore. He needed this. He needed her. A wife who would hold him responsible for who and what he was on a daily basis.

      Jogging toward her, he grabbed hold of her soaked sleeve. “Justine, I didn’t—”

      “Do not touch me!” She moved back and away, teetering for a moment against the weight of her gown. “Does the devil reside within your soul? I can think of no other reason why a grown man would throw his own fiancée into a tub of water and then up and blatantly shut the door, leaving her to pull herself out.”

      The devil did reside within his soul. And no one knew that more than he. But he’d come to believe these past eight months that he was stronger than the devil. And he was going to prove it. To her. To himself. To everyone.

      “Forgive me. I—” He paused. Noting his hand was wet from touching her, he swiped it against his trousers. He eyed the wooden floor beneath his bare feet, which was steadily acquiring more water from her gown. “You’re flooding the entire room.”

      She snorted. “But of course I’m flooding the entire room. Do you have any idea how much material goes into a gown? I have no doubt whatsoever that I soaked up most, if not all, of your filthy bath water.”

      Hell, he needed to get her back into the bath chamber and get his servants to clean this mess up. He gestured toward the adjoining room. “Go. Remove your gown. I’ll … fetch something for you to wear.” Though he didn’t know what, seeing he’d dismissed every female servant from the house eight months ago.

      “You want me to remove my gown?” Justine gurgled out a laugh and flung water in his direction as she waved her hand about. “If I did not know any better, I would say you were intent on bedding me before the actual wedding. And whilst I’m rather flattered, you haven’t exactly earned it, have you?”

      This coming from a woman who had originally offered herself without marriage. He leveled his gaze at her. “I did not mean it that way.”

      “I may be a virgin, Bradford, but that does not make me stupid.”

      He was not about to have her categorize him. Because he was not that man anymore, even though he still fought those same urges.

      Radcliff pointed rigidly at her. “Now you listen here. I have spent these last eight months of my life reforming myself. I am not the same gormless man you once knew. I am a new man. A man capable of far more self-control than you dare mock me with.”

      “Oh?” she challenged, lifting both brows.

      “Yes. Oh.” He purposefully stepped closer, waving a hand up and down the length of her body. “Why, I could easily strip you naked here and now and walk away without even deigning your body another glance. Do you wish me to prove it? Come. I’ll prove it. To you and myself.”

      The force of his own conviction in that moment was so strong and empowering, he almost wished she would put him to the test.

      She scrambled frantically back, flinging droplets of water whilst trailing more streams across the wood floor. “Is crudely taunting me your way of showing love and affection? Because I do not approve of it!”

      He couldn’t help but snort. “Love and … hell, Justine, I thought you, of all women, born and bred unto a scientific, rational man, would have realized by now that love and affection have no place in the real world.”

      Her lips parted in astonishment as she shoved several wet, dripping sections of her hair from the sides of her face. “What world are you living in? Despite my scientific upbringing, I happen to believe in love and affection. Why? Because it requires sentiment and spirit and emotion and the desire and passion to genuinely display one’s soul ardently to another.”

      He rolled his eyes at her rich, honeyed words. Similar words his own mother had often spoken to his father whilst making a cuckold out of him. “Someone hand me a dagger and spare me from listening to any more of this.”

      She narrowed her gaze. “‘Tis obvious you have no respect for me or what I believe.”

      “Respect does not mean people need always agree, Justine.” Radcliff strode past her to the dresser, and flung its wood-lacquered door open. Yanking out a nightshirt, he offered it to her. “Here. Don this.”

      She lowered her gaze and looked away, shaking her head.

      He eyed her, sensing she was genuinely upset. Damn women and their ability to make him soft in the head and hard in the cock.

      He blew out an exasperated breath. “Give me five days. If your father isn’t released from Marshalsea in that time, the wedding is off and you owe me nothing. And rest assured, even then, I will continue to barter for his release. How is that for respect?”

      Her gaze darted back toward him. In astonishment.

      Her astonishment reflected his own. For if those five days produced nothing, he’d be without a bride. And though, yes, there were plenty of other women who’d be more than willing to play duchess despite his scar and his reputation, none of them were nearly as intelligent or as unyielding as Justine. He needed more than a beautiful face for a wife. He needed a soul made of iron. A soul capable of handling anything.

      Radcliff shook the nightshirt at her. “Take it,” he muttered. “Any gentleman would agree you should not remain in wet clothing.”

      Her full lips spread into a stunning smile that magically brightened not only her face but her beautiful eyes. “Will it really take only five days?”

      “There is one highly placed man I’ve yet to contact. He is known to have the king’s ear and happens to be Lord Winfield’s rival. My solicitor mentioned him to me just yesterday. Perhaps it will end with him. Now go. Put this on.”

      She stumbled toward him. Grabbing hold of his shirt, she marched toward the bath chamber, still boasting a smile.

      A smile that made it all worth his while.

      She halted in the doorway and announced over her shoulder, “I always knew you had a heart, Bradford. Always.” With that, she slammed the door behind herself.

      He blinked, realizing that despite Justine’s unusual upbringing, she still very much believed in all things female. Romance and words of love.

      He СКАЧАТЬ