On A Wicked Dawn Read Online Free PDF

undertaking had been its own reward.
    In many ways, yesterday had been the end of an era, thelast day of one chapter in his life. But he’d never forget all he’d learned at Child’s feet; he wasn’t about to eschew the rules that had governed his behavior for the past eight years, nor was he likely to desert an arena in which he’d discovered not only an unexpected expertise, but his own salvation.
    That conclusion left him facing forward, looking into the future. Considering what he wanted from the next stage of his life—considering what Amelia had offered.
    He had, through all the years, set his face firmly against marriage as a way to refill the family coffers. With his mother’s support and Child’s acquiesence, he’d reserved that option as a last resort, one he was deeply relieved he’d never had to pursue. Not, as Amelia had supposed, because of the potential expectations of a wealthy wife, but for a far more entrenched, deeply personal reason.
    Put simply, he just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t even imagine it, marrying a lady for such a cold-blooded reason. The very idea left him chilled; an instinctive, deeply compelling aversion rose at the mere thought. Such a marriage was not one he could live with.
    Given that, given his code that had precluded any thoughts of marriage while he was incapable of adequately supporting a wife, he’d spared no real thought for the institution.
    A small voice whispered that he had thought of Amelia—not as a wife, but as a woman he’d expected to have to stand by and see married to some other gentleman. As always, the thought left him uncomfortable. Arms over his head, he stretched full length, deliberately shifted his mind, and felt the constriction about his chest dissolve.
    Thanks to some peculiar quirk of fate, she wasn’t going to marry another—she was going to marry him.
    That prospect was very much to his liking. He hadn’t considered the fact that yesterday’s victory left him free to pursue marriage if and when he wished, until she’d suggested it. But now she had . . . now she’d offered . . . .
    He wanted to marry her. The impulse that had risen lastnight at her words—the instinct to seize and claim her—had diminished not one whit in the intervening hours. If anything, it had grown more definite, an amorphous urge solidifying into conviction and rocklike resolution. Now he was debt-free, now he was rich, marrying her was, at least as far as his instincts were concerned, not just permissible but highly desirable. He felt no aversion, but rather an unexpected degree of impatience.
    Mind racing, he mentally constructed the future as he would have it, Amelia centrally featured as his wife, then turned his mind to achieving that goal. The hows, whys, wherefores . . .
    Accustomed as he was to checking every action for potential ramifications, the problem was immediately apparent. If he told her he no longer needed her dowry, what reason could he give for wanting to marry her?
    His mind simply stopped, remained stubbornly blank, refused to countenance the reason by even thinking it. He grimaced, changed tack, tried to see his way forward . . .
    Correcting her mistake, thus freeing her from their verbal contract, and then attempting to win her back was a fool’s agenda. He knew how she’d react; she’d be mortified, and would very likely avoid him for the next several years, something she was perfectly capable of doing. Yet at some primal level, he already thought of her as his, already seized if not yet claimed; the concept of releasing her, lifting his paw and letting her go . . .
    No. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—do it.
    He knew where they stood at the moment—he needed to find a way forward from there, toward their wedding, and had no intention of taking a single step back. When it came to her, his instincts were unequivocal