A Scandalous Portrait (The Rose Room Rogues #1) - Callie Hutton Page 0,37

had good reason. If he wanted a happy wife—and he would have Diana—one who didn’t feel like a penance, it was up to him to convince her.

He reached over and took her hands in his. “My insistence on marriage is much more than a necessity, or my honor.” He squeezed her hands as she made an unladylike sound and attempted to pull her hands away. “I know you don’t believe that and, given our history, I don’t blame you. Therefore, I ask that you wear this ring, not as an official betrothal, but the need to stem further gossip and nasty comments when we go out and about in Society.

“And, going out and about in Society is vital if we’re to save both our reputations. However, I know what our plan is, you know what it is—to wait and see if we suit, or whatever it is that is holding you back, but that will remain our secret. To the world, we are a happily engaged couple.” He held the ring out once more. “Will you wear it under those conditions?”

Diana looked down at the ring and then back at him again. Something in his eyes must have touched her since her demeanor shifted and she offered him a slight smile. “You can be quite the eloquent speaker when the situation calls for it, my lord.” She chewed on her lower lip for a few moments. “Very well. I will accept the ring under those conditions.”

He slid it on her finger. The ring was a tad big, but he would have it adjusted. Right now he was merely grateful that she’d accepted.

He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “Perhaps a kiss to seal our betrothal?”

“Pretend betrothal,” she returned.

He smiled at her stubbornness and reached out to cup her chin. Her skin was soft, like satin petals on a rose. He leaned in and gently touched his lips to hers. She didn’t pull back, so he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, taking the kiss deeper.

Nudging her lips, his tongue swept in, teasing, tasting, taking possession. A slight moan from Diana had him pulling back, kissing the soft skin under her ear, along her jaw and neck. “So sweet.”

She pressed closer, her breasts crushed against his chest. In her naivety, she was unaware of how her moans and movements were nudging him past where he planned to stop. “I want you, Diana. I have for so long.”

She shook her head. “Not true. You’ve thought of me as the plague for years.”

“I love plagues.” He returned to her mouth, his hand sliding up her ribs to cup her breast. There wasn’t much he could do with her layers of clothing hampering him, but she picked that moment to pull back anyway.

They were both panting, and her face was flushed. She cleared her throat and patted her hair. “I believe it is time to leave.”

Since she was right, and he shouldn’t be leading her down the path where marriage would be inevitable instead of necessary, he stood and held out his hand.

And sat right back down when he realized the bit of passion they’d shared had awakened body parts of which he did not want her aware. Not yet, at least.

“Finish your drink.” He motioned to her glass and downed his own drink. Since Diana sipped at hers, it gave him enough time to recover his dignity to stand and appear the gentleman.

Diana turned as Hunt placed the rose-colored lace shawl that matched her gown over her shoulders. Her breathing had finally returned to normal, but she was still shaken by their kiss.

Not that it was the first kiss they’d shared, but this one shocked her. Perhaps it was wearing the betrothal ring. Or maybe it was feeling things for her long-time friend she’d never felt before.

She’d known her feelings toward Hunt had changed since her return from Italy. No. That wasn’t quite true. It wasn’t until he’d viewed the portrait and his attitude changed toward her that she found herself viewing him in a different light.

They made their way down the steps to his waiting carriage. Hunt helped her in and took the seat across from her. Facing backward. Always the gentleman.

“Hunt, can we be honest?” The vehicle started up, and she grabbed the strap hanging alongside her as they hit a rut in the road.

His eyebrows rose. “Of course.”

“What are your thoughts on an ideal wife?”

Hunt had the nerve to throw his head back and laugh. “Oh, no.