Do not tell me about your fortune.
She closed her mouth and squeezed her lips together.
“You, on the other hand, are the only daughter of one of the great families of England. You’re destined for more greatness, Perry.” He swallowed. “Lady Perpetua. You’re destined for greatness that has nothing to do with your money. With the right husband, you will be a political leader in your own right, influencing bills and elections.”
“Ladies have no—”
“Don’t tell me ladies have no power.” He tapped a finger on her forehead. “This powerful brain understands the workings of politics. You may not be able to serve in your parliament, but you have a father and brothers who do. Political men need political hostesses.”
“My brothers have wives.”
“Find the right husband and—”
“No.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re doing it again.” She looked around the room and went back to perch on his bed.
He took the chair across the room. “It’s the only way for you. And you can’t do that if you start out with a scandal, caught alone with an American painter who’s nowhere near good enough for you on any scale of measuring. You have to go home, or back to your brother’s, and the sooner we get you out of here, the better. The locals think you’re a ghost.”
“I know. Pip told me.”
“Pip.”
“The boy I met on the road.”
Tension crept through him. He’d heard a mention of Pip that very day.
Confound it. Pip was Davy’s son.
“Dammit, Perry. What did you tell him?”
“After he told me my mother was murdered?” she asked archly. “You don’t need to curse at me, Fox. I told him my name was Lizzie. I didn’t tell him I was staying at Gorse Cottage. And I asked him to keep our encounter secret. He said he would, and I think the children around here are good at secrets.”
He had to persuade her to leave. “Pip’s father was down at the cove last night. He saw you in the window.” His skin prickled. This window. She’d been in his room snooping. “He thought you were a ghost.”
Her back stiffened. “The ghost comes when there’s a tenant at Gorse Cottage, Pip said.” Perry studied the floor and lifted her gaze to him. “I don’t believe in ghosts. Who comes here? Are the smugglers sending in ghosts to keep outsiders away?”
“More likely your father sends the tenants and has them tell a good ghost story to keep the smugglers out of his house and your mother’s things. Also, your father and his people must have needed this cottage during the war.”
“Not much goes on that the locals don’t know.”
“True. But you can see you need to leave before they realize you’re real flesh and blood.”
Her gaze drilled into him. Her fingers gripped the edge of the mattress. “I’ll not leave beforeyourealize I’m real flesh and blood.”
Blood pulsed and heated and sent fire through him. He ached with the need for her. “I know you’re real flesh and blood. You’re also a virgin. High-born or low, doesn’t matter to me. I don’t despoil virgins.”
Perry watched him, as still as a statue, quite unlike the girl who had wriggled and grimaced all through her sitting so many years ago.
“I’ll send MacEwen tomorrow for your brother.”
She rose from the lumpy mattress like the phoenix, glowing in the light and floating closer until she was standing over his chair. The shadows played at her neck and her throat, inciting visions of her on top of him. He gripped the arms of his chair.
“I’ll make you a deal, Fox.” She set her hands upon his and leaned closer, filling him with her scent. “Take me to your bed. Take me.” She squeezed her eyes a brief moment and when she opened them they glowed, dark and deep. “Make love to me. And then I’ll leave on my own. No need to send for my brothers.”
Dazzling, she was. His shaft raged at him, wanting him to open his arms, to shoutyesand take her. He dug his nails into the wood. He could control this. He could think for both of them.
“No, Lady Perpetua. I’ll paint you. I’ll protect you. I won’t ruin you.”
She blinked.
