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“I kept away from her,” she chuckled.
“Good.” He wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Rhys…” She bit her lip, looking uncertain, “last night…you did not come to my chambers.”
He smiled. “Are you certain I did not?”
“I waited for you—”
“And you fell asleep,” he finished for her. “I came to your chambers, but I did not want to wake you when I saw how peaceful you looked.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks colored. “I thought you did not want—”
Seeing her blushing and seeking the words to say amused him, and he tugged her closer. “I did not want what, Liza?”
“Me,” she said before pressing her lips together.
Rhys grinned. “Why would you think that? Have I given you any reason?”
“No, you have not.” She played with his cravat.
He pulled her even closer, so she could feel the proof of his desire as it strained against his breeches. “Do you have any doubt now?”
“No.” She blushed again.
“Shall we return to the Castle now?” he asked, a hundred thoughts of what to do to her running through his mind.
“Not yet.” The wariness he had seen before returned to her face. “I want to talk to you about Myers first.”
His arms slipped from her waist and returned to his sides. “Go on,” he encouraged her.
He saw her throat move as she swallowed. “In London, when you asked me to retire, I made a decision to fight you if necessary to allow me to continue Myers’ work, but I do not want to do that Rhys.” Her eyes searched his expression, and he kept it as placid as he could, so he did not discourage her. “Something bonds us, and I do not want to ruin it. I want you to understand why I began writing as Myers, and perhaps then you will allow me to continue.”
He took her hand and led her to a flat rock on the sand where they sat down. “Then make me understand.”
