She pushed out of the bed. Forgetting, until she felt suddenly cold, that she was naked, standing in the middle of the bedroom.
Sin jumped out of bed too. “Portia, I hurt you ten years ago by not marrying you when I should have done. I won’t do that to you again.”
She crossed her arms over her breasts and stood behind the bed column, peeking around it. “I don’t want to marry you, Sin. I just wanted to learn about pleasure.” That wasn’t true. He’d captured her heart again, but she was not going to tell him that. “I would never marry you.”
His jaw dropped. “Portia, you deserve marriage. You deserve security, money, a position—I won’t abandon you. It’s the price—”
“Stop! I’m not a price. I don’t want to be your lifelong punishment.” This was the problem with being naked. She wanted to run out the door. Run away before she heard any more words that hurt her. But she couldn’t run. And she shouldn’t.
He was striding across the bedroom toward her. Naked. All lean, hard planes, except for his cock, which was soft and swayed as he walked. Shivers rushed down her spine as she watched him move. Sinuous. Graceful. So, so, so erotic. She wanted to touch him. Everywhere.
Marry him and you can do that.
But she would love him, while he saw marriage to her as a duty.
“There will be no marriage, Sin,” she said firmly.
He came close and she trembled. He took another step and he was so close her nipples brushed his skin. The top of her head reached his chin. He bent to her, and his lips touched her cheek.
Sparks showered right to her toes.
But she fought for control. “You aren’t going to seduce me into saying yes,” she warned. “And we might not even escape this wretched island.”
“We will. You will—I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“I don’t know if you are really in control of that.”
He cupped her cheek. “Portia, there is going to be a wedding. I’m going to convince you to say yes.”
There was a sort of desperation in his eyes. He really was determined to marry her. Maybe he felt he was making amends for hurting her in the past. This was his retribution.
“You do not owe me marriage. I can’t marry you, Sin. We would both be miserable. If we survive this island, let me go back to my world, where I belong and I am happy.”
Dejection showed in his long-lashed brown eyes. “You don’t think you would ever be happy with me? You couldn’t ever love me?”
She owed him the truth—she could not reject him without giving him the truth. He deserved better. “I love you now, Sin. That’s why I can’t marry you.”
His brows drew together. He looked so vulnerable. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t love me. I won’t marry you for duty. We’ll both be terribly unhappy.”
A muffled scream cut him off. It had come from outside. In the hallway, near their room.
“Hell, no,” Sin muttered.
For one moment, they both just stood there. Then Portia pulled back from him. “Oh heavens, it’s happened again. That was a woman’s scream.” She felt sick. Sick with horror.
Sin’s strong hands gripped her upper arms. “You will stay here. It’s not safe. I’ll investigate.”
She shook her head. “Haven’t you learned by now that is not going to work? I am going with you.”
Under his breath he muttered a curse. “You know, since you’re so determined to be at my side,” he muttered, “you should marry me.”
He threw on his robe and left her to put on her gown, so he could run out into the corridor before she was ready. She tried in vain to move faster.
Then she heard it.
As soon as he disappeared into the hallway, an explosion roared outside the door.
She knew what it was—a pistol shot.
Oh dear God. Sin had been shot! An image flashed instantly through her head: Sin lying on the ground, his shirt and waistcoat soaking through red. That time it had been red ink. But this time it could be real. Shock did something to her—it made her act. It filled her with rage.
She clamped the gown to her chest and ran for the door. She threw it open. “Damn you, I am going to end this now,” she barked.
“Hello, Portia. What in the blazes are you doing?”
It was Sin. Dear heaven, alive. He’d launched back against the wall of the corridor. There was a charred hole in the wall two feet from his head.
“Get back in the room, Portia. Don’t be mad. Your dress is falling down.”
“I don’t care. Someone shot at you.”
“With a pistol. One shot. I would have gone in pursuit, except you began to open our door, and I wasn’t going to move in case I had to shield you. Now, go back inside.”