Page 31 of Twice Tempted by a Rogue

Add in that flirtatious smile and the tender invitation in her eyes, and … Jesus. Fields of tulips, aquamarine skies—they had nothing on Meredith. She was the most beautiful, perfect thing he’d ever seen.

He sat up in bed. “I should go.”

“What? Why?”

“Plenty of work to be done today. I’ll need to hire the ponies, remember.”

“Rhys.” She put a hand to his chest, stopping him dead. “It’s early yet. And you’ve been working so hard all week. Take the morning to rest, enjoy yourself.”

“I enjoy working on the house.”

She gave him a coy look through lowered lashes. “More than you’d enjoy me?”

He scanned the room for his shirt and breeches. There they were, on a hook by the door. Damn it, why had he left them so far away? He nodded toward them. “Could you be so good as to hand me my clothes?”

She laughed. “No, I could not be so good. I’m beginning to wonder why I’m still wearing anything.”

She moved to draw her chemise down the other shoulder. He covered his face with one hand and groaned into it, debating the wisdom of giving her exactly what she deserved and rising from bed naked, crude erection and all. Instead, he pulled the sheet free and wrapped it around his waist as he stood, throwing the tail over his shoulder so it draped like an ancient Greek’s toga. It made him feel stately and philosophical, which helped in the battle to tamp down his lust.

He crossed the room to dress. “This isn’t going to happen. Not this morning. I apologize for taking the liberties I did.”

“Rhys,” she said as he pulled the shirt over his head. “There’s no need for apology. We’re both adults. We want each other. There’s no reason we shouldn’t have some fun. It needn’t mean anything more than that.”

Whipping the sheet from his waist, he reached for his breeches and pulled them on with impatient tugs before turning to face her. “Meredith. You’re my future wife. When I make love to you for the first time, it is damn well going to mean something. To me, at least.”

She blinked, obviously surprised. Dropping her gaze, she threaded her arms back through the sleeves of her shift and tied the ribbon with shaking fingers.

Rhys took a deep breath and composed himself. See? He was such a destructive brute. He’d barely touched her, and he was hurting her already.

“I’m sorry. I’m not angry.” He grabbed his boots and sat on the opposite edge of the bed. “I … I’m just not especially good with words. I want to explain this, but it may not come out right. Will you let me try?”

She shrugged her acquiescence.

He began cramming his right foot into its boot. “I’ve torn apart a lot of things in my life. Too many. I’ve been in the business of death for years now, and there’s only one thing I’ve never successfully managed to destroy. You’re looking at it.” He began on the left boot, working more slowly. His stiff knee made it tricky. “This body has survived blows, musket balls, bayonets, grenades, and whatever else God and Napoleon could find to hurl at it. I’m simply fated to live. There’s no other explanation. And now that I’ve come to terms with that, I’m done tearing things apart.”

He plunked his booted feet on the floor and turned to face her. “I want to build something now. Can you understand? Every day for years, I’ve woken up thinking,thisis the day I die, or kill trying. Now I wake up and think, this is the day I start mixing the cob. I’m working myself to bones out there on the moor, sweating and piling rocks and digging in the dirt. Each morning I’m greeted by new aches and pains, heaped atop a lifetime of injuries. But it’s all worth it. I’m going to build that house with my own hands, from the foundation to the roof. I’m going to do it for us, and I’m going to do it right, so it lasts forever. Can’t go raising walls on a shaky foundation. Can’t go slapping thatch over rafters so thin, they’ll topple with the first winter storm. Do you know?”

She nodded. “I know.”

He reached for her hand. “It’s the same with us. I mean to build something with you. Something that will last. Much as I want you, I don’t want to rush and bollocks it up. We’re meant to be together, and—”

“Rhys …”

“And I know you don’t believe that yet.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s all right. I’ll keep building—stone by stone, plank by plank, kiss by kiss—until you do. And yes, I’ll wake up stiff and aching for you each morning. But it’s worth it.” He reached out and tilted her face to his. “You’re worth it.”

Her eyes went wide. “You’re unbelievable.”

He stood and reached for his waistcoat. “What I am is indestructible. And I’m not going anywhere, Meredith. You’re stuck with me now.”

Chapter Eight

“Here you are. Coddled eggs and toast.” Meredith laid the plate in front of her father.

He frowned at it. “Thought I asked for fried.”

“Did you?” She propped her hands on the waistline of her green serge skirt and stared at the plate. “Are you sure?”

“I’m getting old, Merry. But not so old I can’t remember what I said five minutes ago.”

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