Pure fecking madness for him to want the widow of his father’s bastard of a cousin.But here they were, and he wasn’t going to let either one of them walk away.
He wasn’t poetic enough to believe in love at first sight.No, he wanted to sink inside of her and stay there.He wouldn’t whisper sweet words in her ear.They’d be filthy and raw, just like him.
“We’re alone now.Are you suddenly worried about your reputation?”He stood and removed the sweltering jacket.
Her eyes followed his every move, tracking him like she was a predator and he her last meal.
Fecking hell, he liked the way she looked at him.
“I have no reputation to consider,” she said, folding her arms.“What will you get out of it?”
He shrugged his shoulder.“I’ll get you.”He waved his hand to her, not missing the way her breathing increased at his words.
“I won’t be your mistress,” she said, avoiding eye contact with him.
It was the first time he’d actually seen her vulnerable.It only lasted a second, before the mask of indifference was back in place.
“I don’t need a mistress.Never liked the idea of paying a woman for her attention.”He spread his arm against the back of the sofa.“Besides, if you were to be mine, I’d let the world know, Princess.”
She turned her head, hiding her delectable blush from him.“And you and I will be what exactly?”
God help him, he wanted them to be something together, but the truth was Tavish had a life to return to.He was so close to finally getting revenge for Hammer’s death.
“Once I return to fighting, the house will be yours?—”
“Return to fighting?”she gasped, in shock.“You can’t return to bare-knuckle boxing.You’re a duke, Tavish.”
His name on her lips, in that deep husky voice of hers, had him wanting to rush over to her and take her on that uncomfortable chaise lounge.
“I’m a fighter and I’ve got unfinished business.”The Butcher was going to pay for brutally murdering Hammer.Tavish didn’t care how long it took him to get another fight with the bastard, but he’d get one.And then The Butcher would pay.
“And what about the dukedom?”she asked, turning her body toward him.“Society will never accept a duke that’s a bare-knuckle fighter.”
“I don’t care about all of this shite.”He gestured at his new clothes.
She giggled, shaking her head at him.“This shite?Is that what we’re calling well-tailored clothing, a dukedom, and a fortune?”
“Aye, what else would you call it?”he challenged, enjoying how easy it was to talk with her.
Usually, his conversation with the opposite sex was limited to what they could do for each other, unless it was one of his relatives.
But sitting there with Florentia made Tavish feel like he could tell her anything and she wouldn’t blanche or judge him.A rarity for him, as he’d often felt judged, especially in a house full of brothers and a da who often demanded perfection.
It was easy for Flynn O’Brien to demand perfection in others, because he expected it in himself.Looking back on the last words he’d said to his da, Tavish now understood why his father had pushed him so hard in life.
A knock on the door interrupted the brief silence that had descended.
“Enter,” they both said at the same time.
A maid entered with a tea service and placed it down on the small table.
“Thank you, Helen,” Florentia said, shocking both Tavish and the young maid, who’d kept stealing suggestive looks at him at breakfast.
He waited for Helen to leave before he sent a questioning look Florentia’s way.
“What?”she asked, standing to pour herself some tea.“If you can change, perhaps I can too.”
Once her tea was poured, milk and an obscene amount of sugar added, she took her seat.“So…” she began, stirring her tea, “you want me to believe that you want me to stay and run the household.And I am to believe that you want nothing in return?”She took a sip.
