Page 75 of Where the Heart Leads
Her distracting smile deepened. “You said if I wanted to know more, you’d happily teach me, provided I was eager and willing to learn.” Head tilting, she studied him, her dark eyes amused; she was enjoying the moment—the culmination of what had clearly been a plan. “I’m here to tell you that I’m both eager and willing—I’m here to ask you to teach me more.”
The inevitable effect of her words spread through him, but…studying her eyes, her pleased and undeniably eager expression, he confirmed she had indeed skipped a stone or two on his intended path. Agreeing to marry him, for instance.
Of course, he hadn’t yet offered for her hand.
Before he could find words to seize the moment, she did.
“I realize a lady of my station is supposed to remain ignorant of such things until she weds, but as I’m firmly and ineradicably opposed to marriage, I had thought I would be condemned to ignorance—which of course isn’t at all to my taste. Not on any subject. Which is why I’m so grateful for your offer.”
Her expression was one of confident expectation that he would fall in with her plan and educate her ignorance.
His outward expression mild, inwardly he swore. He should have stipulated that she had to marry him, or at least agree to marry him, first—but he hadn’t. Could he now renege, renegotiate his offer?
Not easily. She’d told him she wasn’t looking for marriage, but…firmly and ineradicably opposed?
His hands stroked up and down her back, gently soothing—him. Releasing her, putting distance between them wasn’t possible; now he had his hands on her, he couldn’t get them off. She lay more or less on him; his body craved her warmth, the sensation of her softness, the subtle and arousing assurance of her willingness.
Mentally scrambling, he summoned a mildly intrigued expression, as if he were merely curious about her stance. “Why are you so set against marriage? I thought it was what all young ladies strive for.”
Her lips set; she shook her head decisively. “Not me. Just think”—leaning more heavily on his chest, her hip rolling provocatively across his, she freed one hand to gesture—“what allure could marriage possibly hold for me?”
His body, hard and aching from the moment she’d flung herself into his arms, and now throbbing with her hip so warmly wedged against his groin, was only too willing to demonstrate.
But she continued, “What could marriage offer me in compensation for its inevitable cost?”
He frowned. “Cost?”
She smiled, cynical and wry. “My independence. My ability to live my life as I choose, rather than as a husband would prefer.” She looked into his eyes. “What gentleman of our class would allow me to freely visit the slums and stews after we were wed?”
He held her gaze steadily—and couldn’t answer.
Her tight smile dissolved into one of amusement. She patted his chest. “Don’t give yourself a brain sprain—there is no answer. No gentleman who wed me would allow me to do what I feel I must, would allow me to pursue what I see as my life’s work. Without that work, what satisfaction would I have? Therefore I will have no wedding.”
He looked into her dark eyes, and knew he was going to change her mind. Unfortunately, stating that goal at this time would instantly ensure his failure.
“I…see.” He forced himself to nod. “I see your point.” And he did; rationally, logically, her stance made sense.
It just simply couldn’t be. Couldn’t continue.
Because he needed her as his wife.
Having her sprawled over him, firm svelte curves a delectable present wrapped in dark green silk, was steadily eroding his capacity to think. Regardless, quite obviously argument wasn’t going to save him tonight.
He’d made an offer to teach her more about desire; now she’d taken him up on it, he couldn’t draw back. If he did, she wouldn’t trust him. No matter what explanation he conjured, she’d feel slighted and rejected; she’d pull back from him, and never let him near her again.
If he mentioned marriage, she’d put up walls and lock him out—and that he couldn’t accept. Couldn’t allow to happen.
Even worse—much more horrifying still—was the risk that now he’d encouraged it, if he didn’t slake her thirst for knowledge in this sphere, she would find someone else—some other man—who would.
Some cad.
Instead of him.
Thatdefinitelywasn’t going to happen.
She was watching him, her eagerness apparent in her eyes, her expression; as he studied it, she tilted her head, arched her brows. “Well?”
The word was unexpectedly sultry, seductive, and provocative—question, challenge, and sheer temptation rolled into one syllable.
