Page 75 of Nothing But a Rakehell
She raised a brow. “Well, you did disappear, afterwards. And stayed gone.”
He groaned and let his head sink into his hands.
“Lucy laughed and said not to worry—the men always finish. But when I pressed her, she said she could only wonder—if a man didn’t, maybe he didn’t truly like the woman—and perhaps he was only acting out of pity.”
“Ah. I’m glad you knew that was only nonsense.”
“I hoped it was.”
“I kept to my side of our pact, Glory. You are forewarned and forearmed about real, meaningful passion.” The slow flush spreading upward from his cravat was deepening. He waved an arm as if to banish the subject. “Now, I would like to talk—”
“Have you?” she interrupted. “Truly?”
He raised a brow and waited.
“Have you kept to the bargain? We were to be friends. That implies balance between us. An even exchange. But it feels all one-sided when you don’t share any bit of yourself, either physical or emotional.”
Frowning, he began, “I don’t think—” He stopped. “No. I don’t want to argue. I want you to understand.” Absently, he stroked the kitten trying to burrow into his coat.
She felt complete sympathy for the little darling. She’d like to burrow into his warmth and let him run his fingers over her, too.
“Would it help if I told you that I’ve been more open with you than with . . . almost anyone?”
“A little. Perhaps.” Pursing her lips, she took the kitten from him and set it safely away. “Here,” she ordered. “Give me your arm.”
Perplexed, he did and she braced herself and carefully shifted up and swiveled around until she was sitting in his lap, facing him.
“Glory,” he groaned. It sounded like an objection, but also a plea.
“Lucy said, if a lad was reluctant, one need only to sit in his lap and wiggle a bit.” She tried it and he moaned again. “I just don’t want you to run off again. Not quite yet. And I heard that Betsy at the Crown and Cock sat on your lap for an entire evening, so I thought you must enjoy it.”
He laughed and groaned and let his head drop and lean against her breast bone. “Glory, I swear, you are enough to drive a man mad—and keep him happy all the way there.”
She cocked her head. “It’s not poetry, but I’ll take it.” She stroked his hair, making little finger paths through the soft, dark locks. “Are you leaving?” she asked on a whisper.
He nodded.
“Then you must at least bid me a proper goodbye.”
He looked up and suddenly his hands were in her hair and he was holding her gently and looking into her eyes. “You mad, daft, darling girl,” he whispered. “I never pitied you. I enjoy your company more than . . .” He frowned. “More than any other woman I’ve known. But I cannot give you what you want. I cannot give you more.”
“Why not? Can’t you at least explain?”
His eyes closed. “No. Just know—I don’t fear you, Glory. It’s more that I fear for you. Nothing good can come of getting tangled up in my life.” His hands fell and he gripped her shoulders. “Miss Vernon and her nastiness? She’s chased me here and subjected you to such spite and rudeness—and that’s just incidental! Her hateful ways are as nothing compared to the real danger.”
“Danger?” She drew back to frown down at him. “Surely you exaggerate.”
“I wish I did. I know it sounds ridiculous.” He shook his head. “I can’t explain. Not truly. I just would never wish to expose you to the sort of trouble, the hate and vitriol—” He stopped himself. “Just . . . please. I said the other night that your trust means something to me. It does. I’ve trusted you with more than most—but I cannot go further. I wish . . . I hope you can respect my request. That we’ll follow our pact and this can be enough.”
It wasn’t. Not near enough. She wanted to push further, demand more. She’d spent all of this time thinking that his reluctance served to protect himself—now she wanted to insist that he explain what he meant when he said he also meant to protect her.
She couldn’t.
He stared at her, his expression carefully blank. But she looked into his eyes and saw more. He hoped she would agree, that was clear. But so was a certain, wary resolution—as if he knew she was going to disappoint him.
She would not disappoint him. Not when he’d done so much for her. And because she might be as untidy as a gorgon, but she wasn’t a harpy.
“Yes.” She whispered. “Of course.”
