Lucy stared up at Duncan. She was relieved she was sitting down. Everything felt upside-down at the moment.Shefelt upside-down, but she suspected it was really her view of Duncan that had been upside-down. She’d thought him a stiff perfectionist. One of those gentlemen who tied their cravats perfectly and looked down their aristocratic noses at anyone who didn’t have a pedigree traced from William the Conqueror.
But he wasn’t that sort of man at all. He was a man who’d made mistakes and was doing his best to atone for them. She couldn’t imagine the sort of guilt he lived with, knowing he was to blame for the death of a beautiful young woman with a shining future ahead of her.
She’d disdained him for not being dangerous enough, exciting enough, a scoundrel. What was wrong with her? Yes, those had always been the sort of men who drew her attention before, but now she saw them in a different light. She could handle them and fend off their advances—if she wanted to—but perhaps they had a reputation for rakish behavior because there were plenty of women who couldn’t fend them off. Women whose lives they ruined in search of a moment’s pleasure or a hash mark on their wall of conquests.
Was that the sort of man she wanted?
Lucy looked at Duncan. He stood stiff and tall, his broad shoulders slumped as though remembering who he’d been and what he’d done had defeated him all over again. It was dark, but she could picture in her mind his clever brown eyes that always appeared to see too much. He had that beautiful auburn hair and that face with its fine bones that spoke of centuries of alliances between handsome men and beautiful women. And yet, he wasn’t all polish and poise. His hair was often a bit too long, his clothes slightly rumpled, his smile a tad lopsided and far too charming.
But more than any of that, she saw his gaze on her. She remembered it when she’d first met him. They’d been introduced on a midnight train out of London to the north of England where the Farm was located.
She’d seen that gaze a hundred times since the night they’d met—at dinner, on the firing range, in language class, even after they’d spent a morning crawling through snow and mud and a look in the mirror was perfectly frightening.
She’d thought it was a patronizing look. A look that said, you-aren’t-as-good-as-me-and-never-will-be. But that had been in her mind. She’d seen that look so often, she all but expected it. He’d really been looking at her with affection. He’d wanted friendship—perhaps more than friendship. And she’d known that, on some level, but by the time she’d figured it out, she’d already made up her mind that he was her rival and couldn’t seem to change it.
Until you.
That’s what he’d said. Until her, he hadn’t so much as kissed a woman. How long had that been? Four years? Five? More?
“Why me?” she asked before she could think better of it. She was always saying things she didn’t mean to say and then wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.
His bent head rose. “Why you?”
“You said you hadn’t kissed another woman until me. Why me?”
“Why you? Because you’re Lucy Galloway. I couldn’t resist you. God knows I tried.”
Lucy rose, and when Duncan would have taken a step back, she reached for his arm. “Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere. You’ve wanted me for months now?”
“I wanted you the first time I saw you, the moment I met you. I can’t tell you how much that annoyed me.”
“Ha!” she said. “I knew it! I knew I sensed something.”
“The more I tried to ignore you, the more I couldn’t stop seeing you. It seemed every time I turned around, there you were. And you were so smart, so beautiful, such a good agent. I couldn’t help but admire and respect you. I told myself that was all it was.”
Lucy felt her breath catch and suddenly she realized how his arm felt under her hand. She could feel the corded muscles of his forearm flex. “That wasn’t all?”
He shook his head. “I wanted that to be all since you obviously disliked me.”
“I didn’t—”
“Lucy, you could hardly stand to be in the same room with me. You turned every interaction we had into some sort of competition you were determined to win.
“I played along. Why not? I had sworn off women, and thinking of you as a rival was easier than thinking of you as a lover. At least, I tried to make it so.”
“You failed?” She sounded breathless, which she hated, but she couldn’t seem to take in enough air to force words out of her mouth.
“I think my actions since we began this mission speak for themselves.”
“And that dismays you?”
“It should, but I’d realized some time ago that I was in love with you. I’d do just about anything if you asked—except the one thing you did ask.”
Lucy felt too warm, her dress too tight. She wanted to let go of Duncan’s arm, but she thought she might fall over if she did. Her legs were as wobbly as jelly. He’d said he loved her. No man had ever said anything like that to her before.
“What did I ask?” she said. She should have remembered, she knew she should recall, but at that moment, she couldn’t even remember her own name.
“You said you wanted a man who was a scoundrel. I can’t be that again. I wanted to be. I thought I could go back, but I won’t do it.”
