“Dillie, you’re making too much of this marriage business.”
She took a stumbling step back, as though he’d physically struck her. He reached out to steady her, but she’d already taken another step back and now stood with the chair between them, as though using it as a shield against him. “Brutal honesty. Well, I asked for it, didn’t I?”
He sighed. “No, Dillie. I’m an idiot, as you well know. I didn’t mean it as it came out. I don’t know what I meant by it.”
She brushed a hand across her cheek to swipe at a stray tear. “Of course you do. You’ve answered my question. Thank you. And you can keep your secrets.”
He sighed again. “Dillie—”
“No, you needn’t fret.” She swallowed hard. “We needn’t continue this game, although it isn’t really a game, is it? Not when hearts are involved. I’m not going to boot you out, Ian. Not yet, anyway. I actually have a secret to reveal to you.” A light blush stained her cheeks. “After our scandal broke, I promised myself that if you ever landed in my bed again, I would take full advantage. You aren’t quite in my bed yet, but I hope you will be before too long. Right now, it seems that I’ll end up a spinster for the rest of my days. All the more reason for me to have this night with you. I want this night. My night. To treasure always.”
“Damn it, Dillie.” He ran a hand along the nape of his neck. When was he ever at a loss for words? He wanted her. Ached to have her. Not this way. “You’re right. We don’t need the bloody game. Just marry me. Don’t try to break through my walls. Ignore the gossip about me. You don’t need to know about an event that happened over twenty years ago.”
She frowned. “Wait. What? Your brother died over twenty years ago? How old were you when it happened?”
“It doesn’t much matter. He died.”
She clutched the chair’s high back, as though needing to steady herself. “How old were you? Six? Eight? You were only a child.” She looked angry, as though she wanted to pound his chest. She wouldn’t cause much damage, for her hands were small and hardly able to grasp his shoulders. Her little fists wouldn’t even bruise his thick skin.
“I was four. The incident happened about twenty-five years ago, to be precise. Satisfied?” He turned away, crossing the room to stride to the door, though he didn’t wish to leave. He couldn’t leave, dressed as he was. Or rather, undressed as he was. He hadn’t a shirt on. Didn’t have on his boots. He was clad only in his trousers. And there was a hard bulge between his legs that Dillie would have noticed if she hadn’t been so busy staring at his face.
“Four!” She let out a yelp. Then he heard a thud. Damn it, had she just fallen? She must have been chasing after him.
He returned to her side, his heart lodged in his throat. “For pity’s sake! You’re a stubborn little baggage. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. I landed softly,” she said with a laughing groan. “No harm done.”
He made certain of it before he scooped her off the floor. “You’re attics-to-let. You know that, don’t you?”
“I didn’t want you to leave me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned into him so that her breasts heaved against his skin.
“Dillie, I—” He was about to tell her that he’d never leave her. But how could he be sure? “I had better put you into bed.”
She stiffened in his arms. “Only if you’ll join me.”
“You don’t understand what you’re asking. I’m not sure I do either. You have me spinning in circles, first demanding that I spill my secrets if I ever hope to marry you or have you naked in this bed, and in the next moment, asking me to join you in bed. Does this mean I’m to be allowed access to your delectable body without the need to marry you or spill any of my secrets?”
She nodded.
“Not a single damn requirement or consequence?”
“Why is it so hard for you to comprehend? To put it in mathematical terms, sharing secrets equals marriage plus sex. Not sharing your secrets equals no marriage plus sex. Either way, you get to have your wicked way with me. So, do you wish to save me from spinsterhood or not? Because I won’t ever marry you if you walk away now.”
He glowered at her, not liking the game she was still playing, and not liking the way she was manipulating him. Doing a bloody good job of it as well. She knew he’d never allow her to remain a spinster. He wouldn’t give up until she married him. For her own good. He owed her for saving his life. “I’ll stay.”