Anne managed to hold back the tears until she was alone in her room at the inn.

The moment the maid shut the door shut behind her she let out the sob that had been choking her throat for the last several hours.

The devil and his bastard bride.

The words played through her mind, mocking her as they’d ridden in silence for the remainder of the journey. With that one sentence he’d brought her back to reality. With those few words he’d broken through the silly, romantic daydream she’d been harboring all morning.

Who was she fooling? It was a girlish fantasy that had lingered from childhood, ever since that first time he had come to her defense. Back then she hadn’t understood what the jibes had meant. That awful bully had been years older and far more worldly than she. All she’d known was that she was being offended, mocked, degraded… and Frederick, the future Earl of Davenport, had come to her aid.

Ever since that moment she’d come to think of him as her own personal knight in shining armor. She’d heard the stories of his wicked ways but had always insisted that he wasn’t as bad as everyone believed. She’d thought she’d seen something in him. A kindness, a goodness, a wild spirit that was woefully misunderstood. She’d thought perhaps it was something only she could see.

She’d even suspected, or perhaps hoped, they’d shared that secret. That connection.

Falling back against the closed door, she bit her lip to stifle another sob. Perhaps she had just been a fool.

After her initial shock over that morning’s proposal, she’d rushed to her room to pack and had allowed her girlish daydreams to sweep over her, clouding her judgment and coloring the situation in a rosy romantic hue.

When Jed had tried to talk to her about her decision, she had waved him off, certain that any objections he might have over this marriage or the quick wedding were unfounded. She’d actually managed to convince herself that the proposal and the rushed wedding were romantic, that he hadn’t wanted to wait another moment to make her his wife. When, in fact, his decision to marry her and his haste had been all in the name of mockery. There was no other way to see it. He hadn’t wanted her for her, he’d wanted a scandal. He’d wanted to shock the ton by marrying a woman with whispers attached to her name. And he’d wanted to do it quickly to get the most out of this latest shock.

Tears choked her and she pressed her lips together to stifle them. She shouldn’t be upset. This shouldn’t have come as a surprise. She was an intelligent woman—most of the time, at least. She’d been raised with low expectations when it came to marriage and her standing in society.

The urge to sob again was so overpowering it caused her chest to tighten painfully. She’d never expected to marry well, so instead she’d garnered an altogether more ludicrous hope… that she might marry for love.

A knock on the door behind her had her spinning around, facing the closed door.

“Anne, it’s me.” Davenport’s voice through the door had her tensing. “May I come in?” She opened her mouth to say no. They weren’t married yet. She didn’t have to allow him into her rooms.

But resignation made her tired and weary, and she let out a long sigh. After tomorrow she would be his to do with as he pleased. He’d be free to bed her or ignore her as the whim struck.

At the very least, her family would be saved.

She stared at the door as he knocked once more, this time with a firm bang bang bang. After tomorrow he could most certainly barge his way into his room, so why bother trying to keep him out now?

He was in the middle of knocking again, even harder this time, when she threw it open so quickly his fist came down on thin air.

She’d forgotten to glance in the mirror before she’d opened it and she feared even that brief stint of tears had left her looking ridiculous. Either that or she’d grown a second head. That was the only other explanation for his shocked look of horror as he took in the sight of her.

Wonderful, she thought with a sniff. That was just how she hoped her bridegroom would regard her on the eve of her wedding.

“Are you all right?” he asked, coming into the room without asking permission and closing the door behind him.

It briefly occurred to her to object but what would be the point? To preserve her reputation? Absurd! He wanted her because her reputation was in shambles and he aimed to make her look even worse with a rushed wedding.

Instead of answering, she turned from him. “I’m tired from the journey, that is all.”

There was a long sigh behind her. “Anne, one of the things I’ve always admired about you is your unerring honesty, whether it is wanted or not. Now is truly not the time to try your hand at lying.”

She cast a look over her shoulder, confused by the gentleness of his tone as much as by the intimacy of it. It did not escape her notice that he was admitting to knowing her. Up until now he’d seemed content to pretend that he barely knew her, let alone played with her during her childhood or protected her from that nasty village boy.

“You’ve never been much of a liar,” he added, moving toward her until she grew alarmingly aware of the fact that they were very much alone. No worried former governesses or concerned sisters hovered outside the door, and this was no formal drawing room.

He set his hands on her shoulders and gently urged her into a seat at the table. Her maid had brought food before leaving and it called to her now, the smell of freshly baked bread managing to temporarily overcome her heartbreak.

“Why don’t you eat some supper and tell me what has you so distraught.”

The kindness in his tone nearly undid her. She hadn’t been making it up. He wasn’t the horrid man he’d seemed to be in the carriage. But she hadn’t been making up his crude behavior in the carriage, either. Where had that man gone, the one who’d seemed intent to humiliate her?

Oh, she was so confused. Her earlier optimism and excitement warred with the overwhelming disappointment and betrayal she’d felt when in the carriage.

The devil and his bastard bride.

The confusion and hurt had her eyes swimming with tears once more as she reached for bread, hoping to shove down her silly tears with some food.

He sat across from her watching her eat with a concern that was truly sweet. No, he was not the devil. And he wasn’t an angel, either. Both of which she’d already known. He was a man, plain and simple. And by marrying her he was saving her family. With that thought in mind, she forced a smile and tried to tell the truth without revealing too much. “I will be all right, truly. I was a bit hurt earlier when I realized that you wanted to exploit the rumors about me—”

“It was wrong of me to say that,” he said. His voice was gruff and earnest and she looked up to see him looking remarkably contrite. She wished for a moment that her sister and the rest of the ton could see this man they called devil now. He looked no worse than a mischievous boy who’d misbehaved.

“But it was the truth,” she said with another shrug. Could she really fault him for his wanting to exploit her reputation when she was marrying to exploit his wealth and connections?

That thought brought another wave of misery. That romantic hue had well and truly faded by now and she was faced with the prospect of marrying a man who did not love her or possibly even like her. It was a fate she’d thought to avoid. It was Claire’s destiny, not hers, and she’d been content to let her sister bear that burden. Now, facing reality head on, she also had to face her own shame.

She was a hypocrite, pure and simple. The thought made her want to weep.

He must have seen it, though she thought she’d done a rather valiant job of keeping more tears at bay. He reached out and stroked her cheek. “Come now,” he said, his voice so low and gruff it made her tremble. “Marrying me isn’t so terrible, now is it?”

Yes, she wanted to say. But not for the reason he thought. When she didn’t immediately answer, his tone took on a disarmingly rueful tone. “I’ll have you know some consider me to be quite the catch.” His soft laugh sounded self-deprecating and his tone lacked his typical confidence. “Just ask any of the marriage-minded mothers in society.”

She tried to force a smile in return and failed, but she glanced up to meet his gaze when he sighed.

“I’ve been abominably selfish, haven’t I?”

She couldn’t speak for the tears that choked her. She shook her head but he continued with such a contrite expression it left her stunned. “I was, and I’m sorry. I only thought of how this marriage would benefit me and I didn’t think of your feelings.”

A laugh threatened to escape her but it came out as a sob.

Again, he’d gotten it all wrong.

Dropping his head, he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Anne. Truly. I should have told you before that I would help your family without forcing you to marry me. I know it was selfish—”

She finally managed to cut him off, grasping his hand to stop him from speaking. “No, you don’t understand. I’m not upset because you were selfish.” She rolled her eyes and added, “Well, I was partly upset because of your reasons for marrying me, but it isn’t as though you tricked me. You didn’t declare your love for me or seduce me.”

He blinked at her, surprise clear in his eyes. Then his mouth hitched up and his voice lowered teasingly. “Would you like me to seduce you?”

She ignored the comment and tried to ignore the heat in her cheeks. “I may not like your reasons for marrying me rather than my sister, but I cannot blame you for being selfish when my family will benefit as well. Neither of us is marrying for purely selfless reasons. It would be the height of hypocrisy to call you selfish.”

Her speech started strong but ended with a shaky voice. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he held her hands in his. “What is it, Anne? Tell me what to do to make this right.”

She sniffled. “It’s not you. It’s… oh dear. Now I’m crying.”

He smiled up at her, his brows raised. “I hate to tell you this but you have been crying from the moment I entered.”

She scowled. “Yes, but now I am really crying. There’s no hope of stopping the flood once it has started.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Do you want to tell me what’s troubling you? It would be much easier for me to fix things if I knew what was the matter.”

She pressed her lips together to hold back a wail. His kindness was making her feel even worse.

He sighed. “I was not lying when I said you would make a fine countess. I do realize that I am a selfish ass, but—”

The wail escaped as she stood abruptly and moved to stand in front of the mirror. She instantly wished she hadn’t. The sight of her red nose did little to cheer her. “The problem is I’m the selfish one.”

She heard him stand from his chair and approach from behind. The words were hanging in the air between them and she half expected a scolding. It was what she deserved. Instead she heard his low, rumbling laughter as he came to stand behind her.

He was so close she could feel the heat from his body and his laugh rippled through her like a current. An intoxicating, delicious current. She closed her eyes for a moment to revel in the sound.

They popped open again when his hands came to her shoulders, rubbing gently. A simple, sweet caress that somehow made her gown feel too tight and her skin overly heated.

“How on earth are you selfish, my little angel?”

She shivered again, this time at the tender tone. “Angel?” she echoed. With a sniff she added, “I thought I was your little hellion.”

He laughed again and she felt her own lips tug upward in response.

“I’ve changed my mind. Now tell me, what is this all about?”

She was too ashamed to admit it aloud—yet, she also needed to say it. If this marriage stood any chance of working, honesty was key. “There are not many benefits to having a background like mine.” She turned to face him with a shrug. “I was told from an early age that my mother was not really my mother.”

To his credit, he did not so much as blink at that statement. But then, she supposed he already knew so her affirming that fact was hardly newsworthy. Still, it felt momentous to say it aloud to someone outside of her immediate family.

His hands came up to cup her face. “I am sorry,” he said. “You deserved a better childhood than to be made to feel second best.”

She stared at him wide-eyed for a moment. How had he known? But then, it was clear. He had been around her family her whole childhood as Jed’s friend. She supposed it had been obvious even to a visiting friend. But now she shrugged. “That is beside the point.”

He raised his brows in question.

“Yes, there are down sides to my unique position within the family,” she said. “But there was one benefit.”

He waited patiently for her to continue.

“No one expected me to marry.”

His brows shot up at that. He looked torn between amusement and anger. The fact that his anger was on her behalf made her warm all the way through. “Your family did nothing to give you a future and that is a good thing?”

“I should clarify,” she said. “They did not expect me to marry well.”

“Ah,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That is much better.”

She found herself stifling a laugh, some of her heartache melting away with his humor. “It was, in fact.” She looked around the inn’s small room rather than meet his gaze. “You see, when no one has expectations for one’s future, one can dream of anything.”

He watched her with that hint of amusement. “I see. So you dreamed of… what? A lovely life as a spinster? The doting aunt, perhaps?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, silly. I dreamt of marrying for love.”

Her words caused him to still. His eyes remained fixed on her but his body had tensed. His arms crossed in front of his chest. “I see.”

She’d thought it would feel good to get this out in the open but now she felt her heart sinking in her chest as he recoiled from her words of love.

Finally, he shook his head. “And how exactly does this make you selfish?”

She sighed, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Because I never doubted that my sister would marry well. I never truly thought about the fact that she would not have a choice in her life. I was happy to let her be the sacrificial lamb, so to speak.”

His expression turned grim. “And now you are the sacrificial lamb, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

Oh dear. She was making a mess of this. The amusement had faded from his face and the light in his eyes had faded to a dull gleam.

“No, that’s not it. At least—” She stared at him for a moment, wondering how she could make this right. Only one way occurred to her. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks at the mere thought. Her stomach twisted with nerves as her mouth grew dry. There was nothing for it but to tell him the truth.

He deserved honesty and she owed it to them both to start this marriage with no secrets. No misunderstandings. She took a deep breath and licked her lips. “I suppose when you proposed I thought that all of my dreams were coming true. I thought—”

Her mouth grew dry and talking became impossible as his eyes narrowed on her. She had the horrible sensation again that he was a predator and she his prey. If she told him the truth now, she would forever be at a disadvantage. He would hold all the cards.

But then, he already did. He held her family’s future in his grip. And on top of that, he was her childhood friend. More than that, he was the first boy she’d had feelings for and, while she’d thought she’d gotten over that silliness, one kiss had told her otherwise.

What she’d once deemed a childish infatuation turned achingly real whenever she was alone with him. Getting to know him these past two days had only made the feelings grow, but now it didn’t feel nearly as harmless as a simple girlish infatuation. He filled her with emotions she didn’t understand but couldn’t deny. Her body responded to his as if they were made to be together. His kiss had set her aflame with desire but it had also felt like a homecoming.

But it was more than just childish hero worship and passionate kisses. He challenged her at every turn and when she saw herself through his eyes, she loved what she saw. Being around him made her feel like a better version of herself. The way he looked at her—like she was beautiful, like she was strong and generous. Like she deserved to be seen and recognized.

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized the full truth of it. She was marrying the man she might very well love. But could he ever feel the same?

She stood up again, unable to sit still. But when she went to pace the small room, he was there, blocking her way. He took a step closer, not touching her but so close she could feel his warm breath on her cheek and the solid heat of his body just inches from hers. “You thought what, my little angel?”

It was the endearment that did it. So sweet and so tender. Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for them if she could be honest. It was a risk, but it was her life at stake. Her life, her future… and her heart.

“I thought perhaps….” She bit her lip and then tried again. “That is, I had something of an infatuation when I was young and—”

He took a step closer and she found herself trying to back away but the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed. “Go on,” he said, his voice little more than a growl.

Her own voice seemed to go up several octaves as nerves made her breathing erratic. “I thought perhaps when you came to propose this morning, that maybe….”

Oh blast. She sounded silly even to her own ears. Like a little girl with an infatuation, which was exactly what she had been.

The devil and his bastard bride.

She flinched at the memory. His eyes flickered with questions and she lost her nerve. She would only be setting herself up for more humiliation if she were to tell him the whole truth. That she’d thought—she’d hoped—that he’d felt the same emotions for her. That he’d been so swept up in his feelings that he’d been compelled to whisk her away and make her his own.

But that was ridiculous. He’d just wanted her for the scandal she brought.

Didn’t he?

Licking her lips again, she saw his gaze move down to focus on her lips.

“I realize now that it was silly,” she said. “You made your intentions clear in the carriage.”

His gaze darkened but she couldn’t read the emotions there—they were too muddled to sift through. Conflicting and dark, his eyes gave nothing away. When he reached out to her, she found that she was trembling. “You’d hoped to marry for love, my angel.”

His words were so soft and she couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement. She nodded as his hand moved to the nape of her neck. With his other hand, he brushed away a tear that had lingered on her cheek. “And now you are stuck with me, is that it?”

She shook her head quickly. “It is not that, Frederick. It’s just….” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him her deepest hopes but she could try to explain what her life had been. “I’d had a freedom before, that’s all. I’d taken that for granted, I suppose.”

He leaned in closer and her lips parted in anticipation. In hope. She wanted his kiss again, wanted to lose herself in it and forget her dashed hopes and lost dreams. She had this man—this magnificent, powerful, surprisingly tender man right in front of her. Wasn’t that what mattered?

“I cannot imagine that sort of freedom,” he said. “I’d like to say that I’m sorry for taking that away from you, but I cannot. You see, I am the selfish one here, after all. Because I know I cannot give you what you want. I cannot give you your freedom back, not now when I have you in my arms.”

Oh. Oh dear. His words struck her heart. They weren’t words of love but they held a note of desire and possessiveness and… passion.

Oh my.

Those words and the emotion behind them made her head spin with delight and terror. She wanted him to say more. To clarify what he was feeling. What he’d been thinking. But she was also terrified that he would say something to crush her and break her heart. For right now, in this moment, she wanted to believe what his voice and his gaze told her. That he was moved by emotion—maybe not love, but something close enough, perhaps.

He opened his mouth to speak but she was terrified that he would ruin it. That he would break her heart for good. So she stopped him from speaking with a kiss.

He stilled beneath her. His lips and his hands froze for one moment as her lips pressed against his. Inexperienced as she was, she felt a moment of terror that she was doing it wrong. Perhaps she was making a fool of herself.

But then he responded with a fiery passion that washed away all of the pain and all of the thoughts. His lips were hard and eager. His hands were firm and tender all at once as they moved over her. His hand on her neck slipped into her hair, holding her to him. His other arm wrapped around her waist and drew her close so she was pressed against him, the length of her body molding to his as though they were one.

She responded with eagerness if not skill. Her lips clung to his, following his lead. When his tongue probed her mouth she tried to do the same, encouraged by his groan and the way he gripped her tighter as if he would never let her go.

She couldn’t get close enough. Her touch was greedy as she tried to get her fill. She slid her hands over his hard chest, the flexed muscles of his arms, over his shoulders and neck and into his hair.

He felt delicious. Like he had been made for her, to be touched by her and to touch her as he was now, with a desperate gentleness. Like she was infinitely tender and unspeakably precious.

He might not have said the romantic words she’d wanted to hear but his touch more than made up for it. She’d never felt so adored, so cherished.

When his lips moved to her neck, she gasped for air. This fire within her raged out of control. She’d never known she could feel like this, as though she was consumed by longing, her muscles trembling with need.

She’d never felt so needy, and it was a desire no one but this man could fulfill.

“Please,” she whimpered, even though she didn’t know what she was begging for.

He seemed to know. With an answering groan, he gently guided her onto the bed, moving over her so their bodies were pressed together in the most intimate ways. His hard chest bore down on her breasts, giving her some satisfaction even as the pressure made her ache for more.

He parted her legs slightly, easing his weight down so he lay between her thighs.

She cried out at the hard contact, which only intensified the ache. He was hard against her and she found herself arching against him, trying to get closer even through the skirts of her gown.

“We should wait,” he murmured. “Until we are wed.”

She shook her head, need winning out over reason. “No waiting.” What difference did one day make when their wedding was so close?

“Please,” she whispered. “I want this.”

His groan spoke of his surrender and his kisses turned frantic and wild. She met each one with a passion of her own, reveling in the new feelings and allowing her mind and body to get lost in sensation.

She didn’t want to think about the love she would be missing out on. Her fate was sealed. There was no turning back now, even if she wanted to. If he could not return her feelings, she would bear it. She would have to.

Either way, at least she would have this man as her own. That was worth everything. Even if he never loved her, that wouldn’t stop her from loving him.

And she did love him. Maybe she always had.

A joy spread through her, so pure and simple it seemed to come from deep inside of her. A trapped wellspring of emotion that was set free with this new knowledge. She loved this man. She would love him even if it was unrequited.

His lips moved to her neck, his voice whispering words of need and desire. Not love, no, but for tonight she would accept this gift she’d been given, be grateful for it, and not ask for more.

Tonight she would give—she’d give this man her body and her heart. Fully and completely. For that was what it meant to love. It meant to give completely with no promise of return.

She said none of that, but instead told him with her touch that she was his. All of her.

He seemed to understand, his gaze darkening, his touch softening. His look and touch so tender and sweet, filled with adoration and gratitude.

Tears were in her eyes as he stripped the last of her garments from her skin, leaving her bare before his fiery gaze.

“Are you certain?” he asked.

She nodded, a smile on her lips as she tugged him back down so he covered her once more. “I’ve never been more certain.” And this was true. This intimacy with him... it felt right. It felt good. Wed or not, this was where she was meant to be.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his lips returning to her skin as he nuzzled her breasts and caressed her, his voice filled with a tender promise. She basked in his attentions, choosing to trust in the emotion in his eyes, in the feeling in his voice.

His hands moved over her stomach and hips, stroking her thighs until she couldn’t bear it any longer. She whimpered with need and only then did his hand move to the juncture between her thighs to stroke her.

She cried out, clinging to his shoulders as he murmured soothing words, urging her to trust him.

“I do,” she whispered, her voice so hoarse and needy she hardly recognized it. “I trust you.”

He stilled over her before moving back so she could see his eyes. And what she saw there… it was something like wonder. Awe, even. And then his head was dropping back down, his lips claiming hers as he thrust his hard length into her, making her stiffen and cry out.

He held her tighter, murmuring words of comfort. “I’m sorry, my angel. It won’t hurt for long, I promise.”

And it didn’t. Soon her body adjusted to his and she could feel herself opening to him. He eased inside of her slowly at first and then when she was comfortable, she started to move along with him, her hips arching up to meet his and to take him in fully.

Her head dropped back and she gasped for air as he seemed to touch a place inside of her she hadn’t known existed. The intimacy of the act, the feel of his heated skin pressing against hers, of their bodies becoming one—it was overwhelming and all encompassing.

The ache within her grew, a fire stoked mercilessly by his roving hands and warm, firm lips. Soon the rhythm between them grew quicker and more intense, their breathing labored and rasping in the quiet bedroom as sweet whispers and longing murmurs blended with whimpers, groans, and at last her cry of pleasure as she came apart in his arms.

She heard his groan as he followed her over the edge into this blissful place where all that mattered was the way his body felt, the way her heart hammered against his, and the way his breath whispered against her as he kissed her neck, her cheek, and then her lips.

She was in a delightful fog of bliss, vaguely aware of him cleaning her and then himself before slipping back into bed beside her. Between the crying and travel and the emotional upheaval of the day, she couldn’t fight off the exhaustion that had made her eyes impossibly heavy.

She felt his lips against the top of her head and heard his whisper. “Sleep, my angel.”

Her lips refused to do much more than turn up in a smile. Because once again she had a secret and it had everything to do with this man.

She was in love with the Devil of Davenport… whether he liked it or not.