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He rubbed his hands over his head because what he wanted was to put them on her. And conduct another lesson. Maybe this time, it would take. “Timoney. Do you think I can’t tell that you violently dislike that man? How can you possibly think you might marry him?”
But she only gazed back at him. Placidly. Even more placidly than before, as if the more he objected the more serene she became. “Because I have agreed to marry him, Crete.” She waved her hand at him. “He gave me a ring and I agreed to wear it. More than wear it, I agreed to honor what it represents.”
Crete was certain of two things then. One, that he needed to rip that diamond solitaire from her finger and toss it—and soon. And two, that she was taking some kind of perverse pleasure in this. In sitting there, still flushed from his touch, while she discussed her wedding as if it was something she wanted.
He could not believe it was something she wanted.
He did not believe it.
“Setting aside the fact that you looked at him with sheer horror,” he managed to get out from between his teeth, “there remains the small issue of the fact that we did not use any protection whatsoever just now.”
And he blinked when Timoney only smiled.
As if what he said was amusing, when he had never been less amused in his life. Since when did he forget protection? What madness did this woman stir up in him?
“How can this be?” she asked in mock amazement. “The pathologically overcautious Crete Asgar failing to use protection with a woman? Is this a typical lapse when you engage in one-night stands? Because for the six months we spent together, you never forgot it. Not even once.”
“I never forget.”
And at some point he was going to have to ask himself why, when that was an ironclad law he had followed for as long as he could recall, he hadn’t thought about protection at all tonight. Not once.
But Timoney was only shrugging again, as if it was of no matter either way. “You heard what Julian said. He’s prepared to accept any and all consequences of my liaison with you. What did you think he meant?”
Everything inside Crete went still. Like the moment before detonation.
Or the moment after. “I beg your pardon?”
“Surely you know that Julian has no heir,” Timoney said, as if this was a casual little conversation they could have been having at the sort of dinner party he despised. “He doesn’t even have a distant cousin to step up and take over someday. I think he’s desperate. Or maybe he simply doesn’t care. I don’t know. But whether or not I’m pregnant is no impediment, as far as he’s concerned.”
She even waved a hand at that, as if dismissing the whole topic. As if dismissinghim. And then she rose to her feet with that innate grace that Crete had always found nothing short of mesmerizing.
Even tonight, when he thought he might implode with the rage that stormed in him, she was spellbinding.
But he shook off the enchantment when she went to move past him, very much as if she was headed for the door. Yet another unacceptable choice on her part in a series of the same.
Crete shot to his feet, then reached out to take hold of her arm, turning her back around to face him.
She had the temerity to look shocked.
“The matter of your possible pregnancy may not signify to your groom,” he gritted out at her, and was dimly surprised not to find himself shouting. “But I can assure you, Timoney, that it is of critical importance to me.”
