“Gill,” she breathed.
There was one question on his mind.
“Will you marry me?” he asked for the second time in as many days.
“Marry you,” she repeated, her brow furrowing.
Devil take it.Why did she sound so hesitant?
The affliction was beating down on him. Making his chest seize. But this time, there was no easy means of escape. She was still sprawled on his lap, his hand was still up her skirts, nestled in the wicked warmth of her cunny, and even if movement had been possible, he was determined not to flee this time.
He removed his hand with the greatest reluctance, for proposing whilst his hand was buried between her thighs hardly seemed the gentlemanly thing to do. “Yes. I am in need of a wife. You are unwed. I…like you.”
Curse it, what was the matter with him? Had a worse proposal ever been made to a lady? His heart was pounding. A prickle started on his skin.
“I like you too,” she told him, removing herself from his lap and rearranging the fall of her gown as she maneuvered herself back to his side. “But I am not ready to marry just yet.”
She was not ready to marry, and yet she had just allowed him to make indecent advances. Anger sliced through him, replacing the desire.
“You are not ready to marry?” It was his return to echo her words. “Is it because there is another?”
“Not precisely.” She fidgeted with her gown, avoiding his gaze.
He did not like the sound of that.
A possessive surge of jealousy shot through him next. He clenched his fists impotently at his sides. “Who is he?”
“There is no one else I wish to marry, Gill,” she said, looking up at last. “Not yet.”
His brows snapped together. “There is no one else you wish to marry, but neither do you wish to marry me, despite allowing me to touch your cunny and make you come.”
She flinched, perhaps from the vehemence of his words, which startled even him. “There is no need to be crude.”
He shot to his feet, anger rising like a tide within him. Anger at himself. Anger at her. “I was not being crude, madam. I was being honest. Brutally so. Did you not just climb atop my lap, kiss me, and find pleasure?”
She paled, looking as if he had struck her.
He felt as if he had.
What a cad he was. Yes, she had done those things. But there was no call to make her feel shame for them, merely because she had rejected his suit. He had to leave before he said something else. Something worse.
He offered her a stiff bow. “Good day, Miss Winter.”
Without waiting for her response, he turned and stalked from her chamber.
Chapter Nine
Christabella spent thenext day in a sea of misery, favoring her ankle and attempting to stifle her yawns. She had not been able to sleep, and the reason had nothing to do with the slight twinge in her ankle whenever she’d shifted in her bed. Rather, it had been the expression on Gill’s face when she had turned down his proposal of marriage.
He had been hurt.
She had hurt him.
And after he had just given her the most intense pleasure she had ever known.
It had not been her intention to wound him. His proposal had taken her by surprise. Also, since he had only asked her to marry him on two instances, both of which occurred in the wake of his hand between her legs, she was partially afraid he was being guided by lust rather than other motives.
“Christabella?”
