The tip of her pink tongue darted out from between her teeth, and a stirring started in his trousers. Not to mention that the neckline of her blue dress was damned low. The creamy swells of her breasts tempted him to kiss them.
“Am I right?” she asked, leaning closer.
He swallowed hard. “Possibly, but all conjectures don’t change the fact that I can’t take advantage of you without compromising you. Or myself. We barely know each other. Would you really be trapped into a marriage with me, for the rest of your life, unless you were sure I’m the right choice?”
Her composure faltered, and her long lashes fluttered down. “I understand what you mean.”
“Good.” Still, the knot in his throat didn’t loosen, and the stiffness in his groin didn’t relax.
“But,” she said, staring at the floor, “what if . . .”
For some reason, his whole body tensed like it happened before a battle. “Yes?”
“What if I wouldn’t press you to marry me? What if we could enjoy our company without worrying about the consequences?” She gazed up, and the heat in her stare almost undid him.
“That would be very wrong,” he whispered. Yet it felt so right.
“No one will know.” Her fingers flexed over her knees in a nervous gesture, as if she wanted to touch him, but couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“What about your parents?” he asked, just to fill the silence because he didn’t give a rodent’s arse about her parents.
“As I said, no one will know, especially my parents, and Mrs Armstrong.” That delicious peach colour dawned on her cheeks. Her chest lifted as she breathed in, straining her tight bodice and pushing a few more inches of delectable skin up.
Hellfire. He wanted to take her proposal. He wanted to take her. Period. “Would you really do it? With me?” He touched his face scar with a finger.
It was hard to believe that such a lovely young woman could choose him when she could have anyone. Hell, he was sure Benedict wasn’t pursuing her out of respect of their friendship.
“Yes, I would.” Her hand touched his cheek, and dark desire exploded inside him.
Her thumb traced the scar, and her breathing became uneven as a flush spread on her neck.
Lord, he wanted to ravish her on this very bench.
But there was something else that needed to be discussed.
“Amelia.” He took her hand and held it in his. “Are you a virgin?”
The peach colour turned into a fierce crimson. Her fingers stiffened in his hand.
“We need to talk about this if we have to break all the rules,” he said, enjoying the sensation of her small hand in his.
It was her turn to swallow.
“Well?” he prompted.
“No, I’m not a virgin. I had a lover.”
A flare of jealousy ignited in the pit of his stomach. But it was better this way. If she were a virgin, he wouldn’t consider dirty-puzzling with her. He’d ruin her chance of a good marriage. Although, her chances of a good marriage were already ruined. She’d remain a spinster unless she found someone who didn’t care about her status. Someone like him. He tossed the thought aside. He didn’t want to marry. That was out of the question. Besides, she wouldn’t be the first woman to fool a man and convince him she was a virgin. Men could be that stupid and ignorant.
“I see.” He stroked her knuckles with his thumb.
“You sound disappointed.”
“No. It’s better if you’re experienced.” Caressing her hand again, he wondered who had been her lover. Lucky bastard.
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “If you wanted to marry me, would it bother you that I’m not a virgin?”
There was a worried ring in her voice.
