Read Online The Dark Affair by Máire Claremont - Free Book Online

him kind keepers and denying him the world he had so long known and ruled with his imperious demeanor because he could no longer function without his drug?
    Would she have the courage to do it? To watch him disintegrate if he chose pain over healing?
    No. She wouldn’t. Because she wasn’t going to let that happen. She’d save him from himself and by doing so save so many others.
    His forehead creased with suspicion. “You wish to marry me.”
    She nodded. She wouldn’t plead with him. She had an insidious feeling this man wouldn’t respond to pleas or begging. “It is conducive to both our futures.”
    His brow smoothed out, and then the most ridiculously self-satisfied grin tilted his lips. “Then kiss me.”
    She shifted on the bed, yanking her hand away from the leather strap on his chest as if he were the devil and her hand the holy water. “I beg your bleedin’ pardon.”
    “Ah, the saint has a mouth on her. Then I ask her to use it in some other way than screeching—
    “I do not—”
    “Some way that might induce me to prove amenable to your nefarious plans.”
    “Hardly nefarious—”
    “Maggie.”
    She snapped her mouth shut, outraged at her own surprise. He had a reputation for woman-mongering. What a little fool she’d been for thinking she could keep this chaste for as long as possible or to think she could outwit him . . . But she would certainly keep trying until he was recovered, even though she knew that she would have to be intimate with him.
    “Are you a virgin, Maggie?”
    She blew out a harsh breath. She’d heard worse, but if he’d been a boyo on the streets, she’d have slapped him. “Don’t be filthy.”
    “It is merely a factual question, and the answer will assist me in knowing what to do with you. You are, aren’t you? I warrant you’ve never even had a kiss.”
    It galled her that she was so easy to read. “How do you know?”
    “You look like Mary, Mother of God. What with your luminescent skin and renaissance rosy locks. Surely, sin has never mortified your flesh. Though, I will be the first to say, soul damning as I’m sure it is, that there is nothing sinful about the use of our bodies.”
    He was wrong on one count. Kisses? She’d had a few. All of them forced on her in alleyways and stairwells by men too drunk or ignorant to realize she’d gut them with her penknife before she let them abuse her.
    She lifted her chin and said the phrase repeated so often through her childhood. “Our bodies are temples, not to be violated.”
    His lips twisted into a wicked grin, and then he laughed, a booming rumble. “My sweet Saint Margaret. What you have missed.”
    “Sir, you’ve nothing to teach me except how to lose oneself.”
    “You know there are a few pleasant things in losing oneself.”
    He was a demon demanding she dance to his seductive tune. Tempting her down his wicked path . . . and she wished to marry him? Oh, the machinations of fate could be cruel. “And look where it has got you,” she countered.
    “Maggie, my dear, you don’t have to lose yourself wholly. Just for a moment or two. I promise it won’t drive you mad. Now, kiss me and I’ll consider your proposal.”
    No one had ever invoked such emotions in her. She didn’t react; she acted. But with this madman, and his ridiculous nickname
Maggie,
Margaret’s breast heaved with anger. For he twisted up her insides and threw her own life in her face. How dare he judge her? How dare he insinuate that she needed to lose herself?
    Everything about this world had taught her how important it was to take the correct path, to live rightly, and to never allow one’s self to be ruled by emotion.
    He’d
lost himself and was buckled to a bed awaiting his next injection. And yet . . .
    The scent of him. Strong man and determination combated against the depressing defeat that lurked in this place. Even in his semi-drug-induced state, his eyes were two shards of speculative daring. Daring her to