Page 9 of To Dance with a Devil

Bonnie rolled her eyes at him, even while her heart ached at his chivalry. He’d marry her, although he didn’t want to, didn’t love her, and despite knowing his mother would be furious and disappointed in him. There was a sweet boy buried under that devil may care exterior, though she’d known that from the start.

“No, we don’t,” she said, getting to her feet and walking away from him.

He caught hold of her arm, forcing her to a halt. “Bonnie,” he said, and there was a thread of impatience in her name now. “You can’t pretend nothing happened.”

“I can, and I will,” she said, trying to tug her arm free. “Let go of me.”

“Not until you listen to what I have to say.”

Bonnie glared at him, wishing she could tell him to go to perdition but there was such a look in his eyes, such determination to do the right thing, she hadn’t the heart. So she steeled herself against his words, knowing it would be so tempting to let him play the hero and make a noble sacrifice on her behalf. She could make herself believe that he would grow to love her in time, that they could be happy, but she’d stopped believing in fairy stories when she was a very little girl. Some people got their happy ever after and some didn’t, but you couldn’t make it happen by wishing for it. She stopped struggling, and he released her arm.

“You were an innocent, Bonnie, and I took advantage of you,” he said, his handsome face grave. “It’s against the rules. I knew that, and I did it anyway.”

She stared at him, at the vivid blue eyes and strong jaw, at the mop of golden hair glinting in the sunlight. He was so like his brother, the earl, and yet so different. That broken nose spoiled the perfection of his features and yet enhanced his appeal. It was visible proof of the devils that danced in his eyes, though they were missing now as he appealed to her to have some sense, to realise that she must marry him, for he’d ruined her and he must make it right.

Bonnie studied his serious expression with dismay. If she married him, she’d have killed that wicked spark for good, trapped it in a cage until it snuffed out. He’d come to resent her, perhaps even hate her, for what she’d done to him. For, no matter what Jerome told himself, last night had been her doing. She’d been pursuing him for weeks and last night he’d been just foxed enough to play into her hands. Not because he’d been dreaming of her, longing for her, but simply because she’d been warm and willing and there. Not very flattering, but it was the truth, and Bonnie always faced that head on. Better that than have it creep up on you when you weren’t expecting it.

“Your brother has rung a peal over you, no doubt,” she said, relieved that her voice was even and unemotional when her stomach had tied itself in a knot and she wanted to run away and cry.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But that’s not why—”

“Did you tell him?”

“Curse it, Bonnie, of course not! What do you take me for?”

“Good,” she said, letting out a breath. That was something. “Swear to me you won’t.”

He glowered at her.

“It’s my reputation at stake! Swear it, damn you.”

He bristled at that, as she’d intended. “I may not be a very good gentleman, but I’m not a cad,” he said stiffly. “Which is why I’m trying to do the right thing now. Belatedly I’ll admit, but—”

“Oh, go away, Jerome,” she said impatiently.

Tears were prickling her eyes and she had no choice but to get angry. She could get angry or she could cry. If she cried, he’d take her in his arms and tell her it would be all right and, before she knew it, she’d be married to him, and… oh, how she longed for it. Her heart ached at how tantalisingly close the dream was, images of him as her husband and golden-haired children playing at her feet choking her and closing her throat until she thought she’d pass out or go mad.

“I won’t go away, you impossible girl,” he snapped, keeping pace with her as she strode away. “Not until you see sense.”

Bonnie kept going until it became clear he’d not let it rest. She stopped in her tracks, swinging round to face her. “Very well,” she said, her heart beating too fast as hope flickered to life despite everything, despite knowing what his answer would be. “I’ll marry you if you tell me, hand on heart, what I need to hear.”

His thick blond brows knitted, and he stared down at her, so obviously perplexed she wanted to cry. “I don’t know what you want to hear,” he said, folding his arms.

She let out a long-suffering sigh and mirrored his stance. “I want to hear what every girl wants to hear when a fellow proposes marriage, Jerome,” she said, speaking slowly and with infinite patience despite the fact her heart was trying to escape her ribcage. Was there a chance he’d say it? Was there the slightest chance he’d mean it?

He stared at her, blinked, and then his eyes widened. “Oh,” he said, and a tinge of colour rose in his cheeks. He cleared his throat, looking increasingly awkward and any foolish hopes that had dared to spark to life instantly snuffed out.

“Bonnie, I….”

Bonnie turned on her heel.

“Bonnie!” he said, hurrying after her.

“I don’t want to marry a man that doesn’t love me,” she said, weary now. “At least Anderson would get something out of marrying me, for he needs my dowry. You could do far better than anything I can bring you, Jerome, and you ought to, for your mother’s sake if not your own. Go and find a pretty blonde heiress and fall in love, why don’t you?”

“That’s not fair, Bonnie. Perhaps I don’t love you, but we’re friends, aren’t we? Lots of marriages start with less than that.”

Bonnie paused and turned back to stare at him. “Then I must be very selfish, for I don’t want half measures. I’ll have a man who loves me, me alone and no one else, or I’ll have no one at all.”