A Scot in the Dark (Scandal & Scoundrel #2) - Sarah MacLean Page 0,128

home to her.

And once he was through telling her precisely what he thought of her skulking about in the London night, he was going to win her back.

Because, if the reveal of this portrait meant anything, it meant this: his Lily was exceedingly unhappy with him for leaving her.

Which made perfect sense, of course, as it had been an act of supreme stupidity.

He would make it up to her. He would convince her to choose him, as well, and he was going to marry her, and spend the rest of his life making it up to her. With pleasure.

It was only then, transfixed by the stunning painting and the keen knowledge that it paled in comparison to the woman he loved, that he remembered his vow to Lily. The promise he’d made never to look at the painting.

She was right, of course. It was not for him.

Just as she was not for the world.

The instant the realization came, Alec turned his back to the portrait.

He was already moving—headed to her. To find her. To marry her. To love her.

He did not have far to go, as she was there. Waiting for him.

Wearing his plaid.

She stood tall and proud like a goddess, uncaring that they stood a stone’s throw from her nude. But Lily did not look to the room. Not to the dais. Not anywhere but at him, and he wanted to roar his pleasure at her unwavering attention.

Twin desires shot through him—making him at once wish to lift her into his arms and carry her far from London’s prying eyes and also to grab her to him and kiss her until neither of them could think. And then get her to the nearest vicar.

He didn’t have a special license. Another reason to loathe England. Bollocks banns. He wasn’t waiting for them.

It seemed they were headed to Scotland after all.

He resisted the urge to carry her, immediately, to his curricle, however, because of the other emotion flashing in her beautiful grey eyes.

Lily was furious.

“I don’t want your money,” she said, arms akimbo, as though they were anywhere but there, in front of all London. As though half a dozen heads hadn’t turned their way the moment she’d spoken. “I don’t want my money, either.”

She was angry, but there was something else there. Something like fear.

He hated it—wanted to chase it away. He stepped toward her and she held up a hand, stopping him with nothing but a look, like a queen. “And I most definitely don’t want your dogs.”

He stepped closer at the lie—close enough that he could touch her. That he could catch her if she ran. “You’ve ruined my dogs with your table scraps and your scratches,” he said, softly. “They belong to you, now, my love.”

That’s when the tears came. “Don’t call me that.” He ached at the words, instantly reaching for her. She took a step backward. “No. Don’t you dare touch me. I’ve things to say.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re going to have to stop crying, because I don’t think I can watch it without touching you.”

She dashed an errant tear from her cheek. “I don’t want any of your silly gifts. And I don’t want you to send me off into the world to choose a different life. I choose this life.”

He nodded.

“Don’t you dare nod at me, as though you’ve known it the whole time.” Her voice rose, and he heard the strength there. “He didn’t destroy my dreams with that painting, Alec.”

He knew that now. He hadn’t understood before.

“That painting isn’t me. It’s oil and canvass. He can have it. They can have it,” she said, waving one long arm to the assembly. “They can send it all over the world, and it will never be me. But you . . .” She paused, the words suddenly softer. His breath caught, hearing the accusation in her words. “You did destroy my dreams.”

The words sent cold fear rioting through him.

He reached for her.

“No.” He stopped, and she said, “You left me. How many times did you tell me my shame was misplaced? That I deserved more? Better? A man worthy of me? You were right. I do deserve all those things. More than this.”

Fear became terror. Dear God. She was going to be rid of him.

The air had left the room. Alec struggled to breathe.

And then she said, “Do you know why I put it back? I put it back because it was wrong to deny it—this thing that is a part of me.