Page 60 of The Moonstone Pirate
“Then why do you disapprove of everything I do?”
He inhaled lightly. “You think I disapprove?”
She nodded.
“Oh, Imogen. I do not. I shake with fear every time I see you.”
She wiped her cheeks to clear them of any remaining tears and looked up at him. “Why?”
“Because someone might hurt you just because you are standing close to me. I worry that you are poking your nose in this investigation and might discover something important that will get you killed. I am in agonizing fear that I won’t be around to protect you. I want to hold you tight and keep you close, but mostly I want to push you away because the killer might see us together and decide to harm you instead of me.”
Imogen tried to find reasons not to like him, but it proved hard to do now that he had made this surprising confession. He had been rude to her all week long until this very moment. Suddenly, everything changed. Had she misunderstood his feelings all along? Did he like her more than he cared to let on?
She dared not free her heart to allow him in.
Well, it was too late for that. He had stolen her heart on the night of the masquerade ball.
But it did not mean she had to acknowledge her feelings for him. He had not actually said he liked her, only that he was afraid for her safety.
Besides, how could she allow herself to fall in love with a man who did not even know how to dress properly? What other earl in England walked around looking like a pirate? Many dressed like peacocks in colorful silks, which she did not like at all. But it did not mean she liked men who dressed as pirates.
Yes, these were merely his work clothes, and he looked good enough in them to make her heart flutter, but she was still not going to make too much of his declaration. He did not even have the decency to lace his shirt that fell open just short of his navel. And those beads of sweat…Dear heaven.
She refused to think of how he might taste if she put her lips to his hot skin.
The thought of him in a masculine sweat also made her wonder what else besides the escape path he was working on. That path looked finished. But he had been back in the cave with shovel and axe doing something more.
Was he preparing the cave to store shipments of goods? For what purpose?
He was so self-righteous, she could not imagine he intended to smuggle contraband merchandise.
But what if he was? And what if his declaration of fear for her safety and desire to protect her was just a ruse to scare her away? He was not above manipulating her feelings.
She licked her lips, uncertain what to do.
Finally, she decided to keep out of his business for now. Deandra would tell her if she thought anything odd was going on. As for the sketchbook he had just confiscated from her, it was not worth fighting over just to protect a few sketches she could re-create from memory once she returned to Westgate Hall.
The shading and play of light might not be quite the same, but she was not drawing them for their artistic qualities to be put on display. In truth, no one other than her family would ever see them.
Draco had now gathered her materials, all but the easel. “Since you have everything else, I can take this,” she muttered, reaching for her easel.
He stepped in front of her. “No. Leave it. I’ll come back for it.”
“I am not a delicate violet,” she grumbled, even though she had been crying like an infant not five minutes ago. “I carried it out here on my own and can carry it back inside.”
He tensed once again and frowned at her. “I will do it.”
“Why are you being such an ape about this? Just because a few tears rolled down my face? I am not helpless.”
“A few tears? The entire front of my shirt is soaked.” He leaned in close. Goodness, he smelled nice, that mix of bay spices she always found appealing as it mingled with his masculine heat. “I said I would do it, and I shall do it. End of discussion, Imogen.”
“Ha! You call this a discussion?” She knew that tender moment had been too good to be true. “We are not talking. You are spewing edicts at me again. Imogen, don’t do this. Imogen,don’t do that. Imogen, go away because I cannot abide being around you.”
“I never said any such thing. Did I not just explain to you why I needed to avoid you?”
“Never mind, I hate fighting with you.” So why was she arguing with him? If she had any sense, she would merely nod, smile sweetly, and walk away.
But she simply could not do it.
