Page 116 of While You Were Spying

”You couldn’t even stay until I awoke this morning.” Her cocoa gaze bore into him. “You were gone before sunrise.”

“I wanted to return before the servants were up, and I didn’t want to wake you—”

“No!” She sent him an icy glare. “You don’t care about the servants or propriety.” She jumped up, pointed an accusing finger at him. “You just wanted to get away. And now you tell me you want me. Want to marry me? Never.” She spun away from him and stalked to the window.

A cold anger shafted through him. “You think what happened between us meant nothing to me?”

She didn’t look at him. “Why would it? I’m nothing to you. Just another of your—”

“Don’t,” he said quietly, coming up behind her. She broke off, but didn’t turn to face him. For several long minutes, he stood behind her, staring out the window at the steel blue morning sky, weighing his thoughts, his words.

Half of him wanted to walk away. He didn’t have to convince her. She had no choice but to marry him. Her parents would make her see that soon enough. But the other half of him wanted her willing, eager. That half of him wanted to tell her how he felt, show her what she meant to him, what last night had meant to him—even if it made him vulnerable. Even if—the other half of him screamed—it would make the pain of a betrayal far worse than any before.

He met her gaze in the glass of the window. “Has it occurred to you that I do, on occasion, care about propriety?”

Her saw her frown in the glass. “No.”

He could hardly blame her for doubting him. He placed his hand on the nape of her neck, ran his fingers along the white column he loved. She stiffened but didn’t pull away.

“It’s the truth.”

“The truth? Are we back to that again?” she said with a sigh.

“Yes.” He reached around, cupped her jaw, and turned her face to his. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman.”

Her eyes widened, but he still saw the flicker of doubt in them. He splayed his fingers over the soft skin of her cheek.

“And I enjoyed you more than I’ve ever enjoyed any woman,” he continued. “And if your mother wasn’t likely to burst in here any moment looking for you, I’d take you again right here and right now.”

She gasped.

He ran a finger over her parted lips. “I don’t regret you. That’s the truth.”

He had to crush the urge to place his thumb inside her lips, feel her soft mouth close on him.

“But you’re right in assuming I have regrets.”

She stiffened and stepped back. Her hand groped behind her and grasped the window casement. She buttressed herself against it. Her gaze, dark and intense, met his directly. “And what do you regret?”

“This morning I was trying to regret you.” He wanted to reach out, run his thumb along the arch of her eyebrows and smooth the anxious wrinkles.

“Trying?” Her voice was tinged with tentative hope.

“Mmmm.” He did reach out then, but contented himself with smoothing a loose curl behind her ear.

Her eyes followed every movement.

“You were lying in my arms, naked.” He gave her a wicked look and was pleased to see her blush. “And I knew I should feel guilty for what I’d just done.”

“I had a part in that as well.” Her voice was warm, her eyes growing dark with arousal.

His lips quirked. “And don’t think I didn’t enjoy your part.” He ran a finger along the curve of her small ear, feeling her shiver and seeing her try to contain it. “But I can’t fault you for what happened. I should have stopped it.”

“But I didn’t want you to stop it.” Her blush deepened. “I mean—”

“As much as I like hearing you say that—” He cut her off with a light finger on her lips. “It doesn’t change the fact that I should have done the honorable thing and didn’t.” Her lips moved under his fingertip, but before she could protest again, he added, “But I couldn’t summon an ounce of regret.”

“You couldn’t?” she whispered. Her breath tickled his knuckles and wrist. He had to pull his hand away before he gave into temptation and kissed her.

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