Charlotte strode into the parlor, not at all sure why Damien had come to call. She’d wager he wished to harass her further over Lord Jostling. Well, if that was his intention, he would be sorely disappointed. Her mind had been decided and nothing he could say or do would change a thing.

She took the chair opposite his and met his gaze. “Lord Grayson.” She nodded politely despite the ire ravishing her insides.

He blinked. “I do not believe you have ever addressed me thusly when in private. I must confess, I do not like it.”

“We are not in private.” She indicated Lady Oxford who’d trailed in behind her and stationed herself in the far corner.

“Regardless, I prefer you to call me Damien.”

Charlotte pressed her lips together. “I no longer wish to be informal with you. You see, I have accepted Lord Jostling’s offer. The marriage contracts will be signed this afternoon.”

Damien sprang from his chair. “You must not—”

“Quiet.” Charlotte held up a hand. “As I was saying, the contracts will be signed this afternoon and our engagement formally announced at tonight's dinner party.” She could not begin to understand why he objected so fiercely, but it had to stop here. She would marry Lord Jostling.

“He is certain to make you miserable, Charlotte.”

“Do refrain from addressing me so. From now on it must be Lady Charlotte.”

Damien strolled over to her, his gaze finding hers. “You cannot mean that.”

She stood, glaring at him. “Why do you insist on painting him as a monster?”

“Because, dammit, he is.”

Charlotte glared angrily then pivoted on her heel to storm from the room.

Damien reached out taking her hand, stopping her. “Charlotte, I care deeply for you. I want you to be happy and safe.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but paused as pain and something else, something more tender, flashed in his gaze. Her heart hitched, a lump rising in her throat. “I…I can’t.” She made a weak attempt to get free.

“Can’t what? Believe that I have your best interest in mind? That I truly wish for you to be happy? That I do care deeply?” He stepped closer, bringing his body against hers. “I have always cared.”

She blew out a deep breath, her insides trembling. “Then why did you break my heart?” He voice quivered and she hated herself for it. She’d never intended to drudge up the past. It served no purpose now--they could not go back.

“I was protecting you.”

“From what?” She drew her brow together in befuddlement.

He averted his gaze. “From me.”

“I did not need protecting from you.” She reached out, placing her hand on his cheek and guiding his gaze back to hers. “You were all I thought about, all I wanted.”

“You were a wide-eyed debutante with your mind set on marriage, and I a rogue determined never to marry.” He released her hand and stepped away. “I would have ruined you. And I cared too much for you to let that happen.”

She nibbled her lower lip as his words sank in. How many nights…years…had she wondered at his reason for turning away from her. She’d always believed that he had been toying with her, amusing himself with the gullible debutante. Never had she imagined, let alone believed, that he might have cared for her. Still… “You are an earl. Did it not occur to you that you must marry at some point?”

“Why? So I might produce an heir? I care not what happens to the title.” Damien moved close to the window, his attention trained on the view it provided. “My father was a miserable bastard. I have no idea how to be a husband and father, and no wish to follow his example.”

Charlotte drew close, resting her hand on his shoulder. “You are not your father.”

Damien stiffened. “You have no idea. I am a wicked man given to gambling and horses. I enjoy my liquor and raise hell every chance I get. All traits I share with my father. Who’s to say that I would not continue following his example within the confines of marriage? Did you know that he beat my mother on a regular basis? Slapped her around and yelled at her every chance he got?”

Her heart melted at the hurt in his voice, the pain in his eyes. “Perhaps you are a bit wicked, but you have a soul.” She stepped around him so that she could gaze into his tender cocoa eyes. “Damien, you are not your father. You said yourself that you care for me. I’d wager he never gave a fig for anyone.”

Damien tipped his head back and closed his eyes for a heartbeat. “I did care for you, and I still do. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”

Charlotte could not hide the ghost of a smile curving her lips. “I cared for you as well. In fact, I loved you.”

“Do not marry Jostling.” Damien pulled her into his arms. “Marry me instead.”

She gazed deeply into his eyes as long moments of silence stretched past. He had been her every dream back then. And even now, even after the pain and anguish he'd caused her, she loved him still. She’d be a fool to try and deny it.But he was her past. “Do not make this harder than it already is. I get on well with Lord Jostling and have already agreed to become his wife.”

“Nothing has been signed. No official announcement made.” He nuzzled his head where her earlobe met her neck and dropped a kiss on the delicate skin. “Choose me.”

God, how he tempted her. Another gentle caress and she would be dough in his hands. The man infuriated her, but he also stirred her passions as no other ever had. Charlotte drew in a breath and stepped from his embrace. “Our chance has long passed. Please take your leave.” She turned her back to him, fighting for composure.

“Charlotte, I want to be your husband. Never again do I want to wake to find a friend snoring across my room or a horse in my attic.”

“A horse?”

“Indeed, and before you ask me to explain, I haven’t a clue how it got there.” He took her hands in his and rubbed small circles with his thumbs. “The point is, I want to settle down. You made me see that there is more to life.”

“Do you love me?” Charlotte searched his gaze, finding her answer before he spoke a single word.

“Love is not an emotion I am familiar with.” He squeezed her hands. “I think about you all the time. There is not enough liquor in England to keep you off my mind. I worry about you and wish to protect you. I desire you and want you with me.”

Charlotte nodded as tears collected in her eyes. “Please, do go on.”

“I want you to be my first, my last, and everything in-between for the rest of my days, Charlotte. I believe that is love.”

She rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. When she pulled back, her heart nearly burst with joy at the love reflected in his gaze.

“Marry me?”

“On one condition.” She twirled her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck.

He smiled. “I will do anything you desire. Give you all that you need.”

“I do not want a good husband.”

He rose a brow. “No?”

She dropped another kiss on his lips then smiled at him mischievously. “I want a wicked husband. One who fires my passion.”

He laughed. “I believe I am fit for the challenge.”

Damien Archer, the Earl of Grayson held his future wife in his arms, looking forward to a life of adventure and fiery passion with the woman who fulfilled his soul—the Wicked Earls’ Club be damned, from now on Charlotte would be his sanctuary.