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“Damn me,” Nick muttered, which prompted another warning about language from Mrs. Pell.
“Really, milord. You’d think you’d never been around a decent young woman. I’m off to bed then.” She untied her apron and folded it over a chair. “I’m too old to stay up past ten. Sleep well.”
When the door to her room closed, Nick arched an eyebrow. “Decent, eh?”
Cynthia blushed at the gleam in his eye and tried to keep her laughter quiet. “You are a scoundrel.”
“A very happy one.”
Happy, he’d said. She grinned down at her last few cards and pushed them around the table. She was happy too.
Worry had overtaken her in the hours he was gone. He’d left solemn and frowning, not the type of man to take such a thing lightly. But he’d returned as the charming Nick he’d been so many years before. Not polished and perfect, but easy. Happy.
“We’ve another early day tomorrow,” he said, and Cynthia’s heart raced ahead to the night to come. Lust twined around her limbs and tightened.
“Best to retire then,” she murmured, stealing a glance at him through her lashes.
Nick’s smile gentled. He reached across the table to take her hand. “We can’t do that again, love.”
Love, he called her, as if she really were his love. That was all she heard for a moment. She sat straighter and gave up looking coy. “Can’t do what again?”
“What we so thoroughly did earlier. I can’t…have you like that again.”
She narrowed her eyes at him and leaned closer. “How can you have me then?”
“Cyn…” His helpless look offered only apologies.
“I’m sorry, Nick, but you’ve…you’ve introduced me to the pleasures of the flesh. You can’t cry off now.”
“I didn’t intend to introduce anything!”
“Well, you did, and that’s that. Perhaps you’d like another glass of wine?”
He pulled his hand from hers and crossed his arms. “Cynthia Merrithorpe, you listen to me. We are not going to make love again. Not until after we’re married.”
“We—” His words flashed through the room like lightning. “What did you say?”
“Marry me, Cyn.”
“No!”
He smiled and reached for her, lacing his fingers through hers. “Please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
“I will not!” Sweat sprang up along her hairline and she shivered at the sudden chill. “And you are already engaged, you fool.”
“To a woman who hates me.”
She tried to tug her hand away, but he held tight.
“You said you wanted me to be happy, Cynthia. Marrying you would make me happy.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It would.”
His thumb stroked the ball of her hand, brushing tingles into the sensitive flesh. How horrid he was, offering her everything she’d ever dreamed.
They’d fall in love. The world would spin to a halt around them. They’d marry too young and move to London, and the whole ton would marvel at the strength of their passion.
