The Perfect Lover

“She’s guessed, more or less correctly.”

She grimaced, then turned thoughtful. Frowned. “So she may cause problems.”

“That depends. She’s so caught up in her own games, she’ll only lash out and mention us if provoked.”

“Perhaps I should speak with her.”

He stopped. “No! That’s not what-”

She halted, looked at him questioningly.

He glanced about the lake path, heard a high-pitched girlish voice float down from the gardens above. They’d reached the pinetum; a path led on, winding beneath the specimen trees. Tightening his hold on Portia’s hand, he drew her on.

Stopped only when they were surrounded by tall trees, cloaked in dappled shade-totally private.

He released her, turned, faced her.

She watched, waited, mildly curious…

Ignoring the constriction about his lungs, he drew breath, met her midnight blue eyes.

“I want to marry you.”

11

She blinked, then stared. “What did you say?”

Her voice was oddly weak.

He set his jaw. “You heard me.” When she continued to stare, dumbfounded, he repeated, “I want to marry you.”

Her eyes only grew rounder. “When did you decide this? And why, for heaven’s sake?”

He hesitated, trying to see ahead. “Kitty. She almost said something over the luncheon table. At some point, she will-she won’t be able to resist. I was already thinking of marriage and didn’t want you imagining, if I waited to speak until after she caused a ruckus, that I was offering because of that.”

With any other lady, letting Kitty create a scandal and then offering ostensibly because of it might have been a reasonable way forward, but not with Portia. She’d never accept an offer made out of social necessity.

“You were already thinking of marriage? To me?” The stunned look in her eyes hadn’t faded. “Why?”

He frowned at her. “I would have thought that was obvious.”

“Not to me. What, precisely, are you talking about?”

“I’m sure you haven’t forgotten you spent last night in my bed.”

“You’re perfectly right-I haven’t. I also haven’t forgotten that I specifically explained that my interest in such proceedings was academic.”

He held her gaze. “That was then. This is now. Things have changed.” An instant passed. Eyes locked on hers, he asked, “Can you deny it?”

Portia couldn’t, but his sudden talk of marriage-as if the subject had always been there, an unstated element between them-left her feeling like a deer suddenly facing a hunter. Paralyzed, unsure which way to turn, shocked, astonished, her wits literally reeling.

When she didn’t immediately reply, he went on, “Aside from all else, your involvement in last night’s proceedings was anything but academic.”

She blushed, lifted her head. Why on earth was he taking this tack? She tried to harry her whirling wits into order. “Regardless, that’s no reason to imagine we should wed.”

It was his turn to stare. “What?”

He uttered the word with such force, she jumped. He took a prowling, menacing step closer.

“You came to my bed-gave yourself to me-and you didn’t expect we would wed?”

Their faces were no more than six inches apart; he really was stunned. Eyes wide, she held his gaze. “No. I didn’t.” She hadn’t got that far in her deliberations.

He didn’t immediately answer, but something changed behind his mask. Then his eyes grew darker, his features harder; a muscle flexed along his jaw.

“You didn’t… just what sort of man do you think I am?”

His voice was a low growl-a very angry growl. He shifted fractionally nearer; she nearly took a step back, only just stopped herself. Spine rigid, she held his gaze, struggled to understand why he was suddenly so furious… wondered if he was pretending… felt her own temper rise.

“You’re a rake.” She said the word clearly, distinctly. “You seduce ladies-it’s the primary characteristic in the occupational description. If you’d married every lady you’d seduced, you’d have to go and live in Arabia because you’d have a harem.” Her voice had gained strength; her belligerence rose to meet his. “As you’re still living here, in this sceptered isle, I feel confident in concluding you don’t marry every lady you seduce.”

He smiled, a feral gesture. “You’re right, I don’t. But you need to revise your occupational description because, like most rakes, I never seduce unmarried, virginal, gently bred ladies.” He stepped closer; this time she backed. “Like you.”

She fought to keep her eyes on his, aware her breathing had accelerated. “But you did seduce me.”

He nodded, and closed the gap between them again. “I did, indeed, seduce you-because I intend to marry you.”

Her jaw dropped; she nearly gasped. Then she dug in her heels, tipped her chin high and locked her eyes, narrowing to shards, on his. “You seduced me because you intended to marry me?”

He blinked. Halted.

She saw red. “What aren’t you telling me?” She jabbed a finger into his chest; he eased fractionally back. “You intended to marry me? Since when?” She flung her arms wide. “When did you decide?”

Even she could hear the almost hysterical, certainly horrified note welling in her voice. She’d evaluated the threat, accepted the risk in going to his bed, but she hadn’t seen, hadn’t known the real threat, the real risk.

Because he’d hidden it from her.

“You-!” She went to box his ear but he caught her fist. “You deceived me!”

“I didn’t! You deceived yourself.”

“Hah! Anyway”-she twisted her hand; he let her go-“you didn’t seduce me-I seduced myself! I was willing. That’s different.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t change the fact. We were intimate, whatever led to it.”

“Rubbish! I’m not going to marry you because of it. I’m twenty-four. The fact I was a gently bred virgin doesn’t matter.”

He caught her gaze. “It did-it does.”

That he considered the fact gave him some claim over her didn’t need to be stated; it hovered, very real, a tangible truth between them.

She set her chin. “I always knew you were a throwback to medieval times. Regardless, I won’t marry you because of it.”

“I don’t care why you marry me, just as long as you do.”

“Why?” She’d asked before; he still hadn’t answered. “And when did you decide you wanted to marry me? Tell me the truth, all of the truth, now.”

His eyes hadn’t left hers; he drew in a deep breath, then exhaled. Other than that, not a single line in his face or muscle in his body eased. “I decided after the picnic in the ruins. I’d thought of it after we first kissed on the terrace.”