“I might not want to turn my dowry over to a husband, but as I’ve mentioned, it’s my main attraction for suitors. It might as well go to a man I care for, who sometimes cares for me.”
“Oh, Perry.” Anger swelled in him. She didn’t know her own worth. “It’s not true. I’ve told you that. You’re beautiful. You deserve everything. You deserve all the best.” He lifted her hand and kissed it.
Hurt shimmered in her eyes. She reached for her robe and covered her nakedness.
What a fool he was. This had been a mistake.
“You offer me…everything…and then yank it away. You care, and then push me away.” She took in a shaky breath. “Give me this night, Fox. Please. Take me.”
“You’re a lady. You deserve to marry honorably, with your father’s blessing.”
Shaldon would never allow them to marry, and she knew it.
Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “A lady wouldn’t beg for a man who is not her husband to make love to her.”
How wrong she was there.
“Just tell me one truth. Putting aside your honor, my supposed great beauty and my dowry, do you care for me?”
He sat up next to her. “There’s nothing supposed about your beauty.”
“Stop dodging and answer me.”
Dear God. He wanted her, in his bed, in his arms, arguing, bolting, occasionally falling out of trees. Always. He couldn’t tell her that.
She fell back onto the bed, frowning. “I don’t even know your first name.”
He dropped a brotherly kiss on her forehead, unsmiling. “Yes, I care for you. And you may call me Reynard.”
She grimaced and choked out a laugh, as he’d wanted her to. He stood and looked for his shirt.
He needed to leave, and now, before she started probing again.
Perry rolled to sitting. “You are not Reynard the Fox. What is your Christian name, Fox?”
He pulled on his stockings. He had stopped using his true name years ago. It had been part of his cover, and then became who he truly was.
“I suppose should you ever marry, one might find your full name in the marriage lines.”
He shook out his shirt.
“Arrgh,” she said. “It’s a curse to love a man so honorable.”
His gaze jerked to her. She loved him.
Well, of course she did. She had for years. It would pass.
Still, the anger in her voice and in her expression flayed him. And how had he been honorable? He’d just stripped her naked and brought her to pleasure twice. And now she perched on the edge of the bed, hair floating in a wild halo that suited her much better than the Rapunzel locks she’d left on the bedside table.
His heart clinched. A woman well-loved, a goddess ready to issue a command—he would remember this vision and paint it someday. He let his damp shirt fall over his head and cover his desire.
“What’s honorable, Perry?” He came and helped her into the dressing gown. She shoved her arms through the sleeves, biting her lower lip. He thought of her brother’s ball. He’d been drawn to her, pulled by an invisible tether.
He picked up his damp waistcoat. Dry clothes, that’s what he needed. He pulled on the waistcoat anyway. “I won’t lie to your father. When he shows up, and you know he will, eventually, I’m telling him everything.”
She straightened, the fine muscles around her mouth and her eyes barely moving.
“You won’t,” she said.
