Page 38 of Lady Tempts a Rogue

A trifle better, but not as unruffled and composed as she would’ve liked.

“I think I have stumbled upon the perfect solution to your being stranded in Casablanca. It is a answer to a long-standing dilemma for me as well. I believe it would benefit us both. Honestly, I do not see a disadvantage and do not know why I did not think of it earlier.”

He continued to look at her like she was a pastry he could barely refrain from gobbling up.

How could something be simultaneously thrilling and unsettling?

A tiny spark of hope sprang to life, nonetheless.

“You have?”

Mayhap he had a position to offer her. Faith Kellinggrave had been Lord Constantine’s scrivener before they married. Except, Trinity was not trained as a scribe.

A secretary?

She supposed she could manage those duties, and she was a quick learner.

Devin nodded, then raked his fingers through his thick hair, the movement telling. He was not as confident of his solution as he pretended.

He cleared his throat.

Yes, most definitely apprehensive.

Probably not an offer of employment, then.

At least—not a respectable one.

Pain and disappointment deluged her, squeezing her lungs and heart in an unmerciful, vice-like grip.

God rot the bounder for giving Trinity hope and then dashing it into a thousand pieces with no more care than discarding an empty whisky bottle.

Taking her palms in his, Devin ran his thumbs over the backs of her hands.

Even knowing what he was about to suggest, a thrill spiraled up her arms and spread across her shoulders. He had merely to touch her, and she became pliable clay in his strong hands.

You are a fool, Trinity. A silly, stupid, gullible fool.

Oh, Devin Everingham was a skilled seducer. She would give him that.

However, he’d soon discover that Trinity was not easily beguiled.

“Trinity, I have a proposition.”

The miniscule hope that she had misunderstood his intention, that she had been wrong, dissolved. Pain, disbelief, and offense tangled into a confused, angry knot in her stomach, and she wanted to slap the confident expression from his handsome face.

Except, she had never hit anyone in her entire life, even if planting him a facer at this moment would give her tremendous satisfaction.

“I shan’t be your mistress,” she snapped, snatching her hands away.

To be used, degraded, and eventually tossed aside when someone more intriguing and tantalizing came along. Never.

“Pardon?” Devin jerked as if slapped.

Anger flashed in the depths of his chocolatey eyes, and for half a second, Trinity feared his reaction. The ire eased from his expression, and tenderness replaced his wrath.

“I would never presume to insult you with such a vulgar suggestion.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across the knuckles.

Trinity’s traitorous knees trembled, and her heart skipped a beat before resuming an irregular tempo.

Foolish, foolish girl.

“I want you to marry me, sweeting.”