Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)

“No.” Panic seized him. “No, don’t. Please.” With a finger, he propped up her quivering chin. “Lily, I’m not worth your tears.”


The words squeaked from her throat. “I can’t help it.”

Oh Lord, here they came. Tears, in abundance. Streaking her cheeks, tracing down to her chin. Her shoulders lurched with violent sobs, and she leaned forward, slumping inexorably toward him until her brow rested against his chest.

He raised his hands in defense, or perhaps surrender. What should he do? He could bring himself to refuse her comfort, but he couldn’t refuse to comfort her.

So he did the only thing he could. Which was, to be honest, exactly what he’d been wanting to do for a very, very long time. Ever since the night Leo died.

He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into the protection of his body.

And he held her tight.

Chapter Thirteen

Lily loved him. She loved Julian.

There was no denying it, and at the moment, no classifying it. She didn’t know whether it made them friends or lovers or something altogether different and new. She just knew that no matter what his origins, no matter what his sins, no matter how many lies he’d told, she cared for this man—loved him—and she could not remain a spectator while he spoke of being born in shame, raised in squalor, and losing his mother while he was still no more than a boy. Her heart could not remain unmoved, and her body would not be still.

She trembled with all the fear he would not admit. She cried the tears he refused to shed. His arms were steel bands about her chest, and she pulled him closer still, crushing her ribcage to his—as if she could draw the pain from his heart and take it into hers.

When she brought her hands to his shoulders and pushed him away, she hated to release him. But he was speaking, and she needed to understand.

“Wait,” she said, touching the backs of her fingers to his cheek. “Go slowly. You’re losing me.”

“Yes.” Sighing, he closed his eyes. “Yes, I know. And you were never even mine.”

“Julian, please.” How should she take such words? She looked for clues in the features of his face, scanning for an ironic quirk of his brow or a serious set to his jaw.

He joined her on the floor. They both sat, legs folded and hands doing the things hands did when left at loose ends. Picking at seams, tracing cracks on the floor. Light crept up the paneled wall. The new day was gaining strength, taking shape. It could no longer be ignored.

“What happens now?” she asked. Where did they go from here? So long as they went together, Lily wasn’t sure she cared.

He said, “I’m leaving London.”

The air left her lungs. “You’re … you’re leaving? But when?”

“I don’t know precisely. Soon.”

Inwardly, she told herself not to panic. Men left London all the time. They had things to do, people to see. Horses to purchase and investments to look after. She said casually, “When will you return?”

“I won’t be returning.”

Cruel, cruel man. She’d just shed a basin’s worth of tears for him, and now he told her he was leaving forever?

“This is why you must marry,” he said. “I can’t stay around to look out for you, and I can’t bear the thought of you alone.”

“And I’m supposed to rejoice at the thought of never seeing you again?”

“Yes, if you know what’s best for you.” He gestured with one hand, stirring the cloud of dust motes between them. “You’re always saying what a decent man I am, beneath the devilry. But it’s not the truth. It only seems that way, Lily. It only seems that way because I’m a better man when I’m near you.”

Perhaps he meant those words to be flattering or romantic, but they didn’t land that way. A horrid notion wormed in her stomach. “Does this have to do with your mother? Because she was deaf, and I am too? Is that why you feel so …” She hardly knew the word to say. “… attached to me, but unwilling to act on it?”

“No. No, it’s not like that. Trust me when I say this.” His eyes wandered her body, and his mouth quirked with sensual mischief. “When you’re close to me, I’m not thinking of my mother. At all.”

Lily pressed her lips together, hoping he was being truthful. She shuddered at the thought of being some sort of maternal figure to him.