Of course he did, but he still wanted to hear her confess it aloud.
“I’m afraid I don’t, kitten. Tell me.”
She huffed a little sigh he found endearing. “I am fond of you as well.”
“Oh, how my queen wounds me,” he teased, shifting so that he could kiss the shell of her ear. “I should have thought you more than merely fond of me by now.”
“I am fonder of you than I ought to be,” she said archly, turning her head to give him a meaningful look. “By far.”
He kissed her, unable to help himself. Her lips clung, warm and silken and delicious. “I do believe I know the feeling,” he managed when he broke away at last.
“I shall miss this place,” she told him, turning her head and resting it against his chest again.
He would miss it as well. Not Wingfield Hall, but what had happened between them here. Part of him feared returning to London would only further complicate their relationship. He wanted to install her in his house in St John’s Wood, buy her dresses from Paris, cover her in diamonds and emeralds the color of her eyes. He wanted every second of each minute of her day and all her nights too. But she had denied his every request to gift her with anything, whether funds or necklaces or Worth gowns, and neither would she agree to moving in to St John’s Wood. She would meet him there in an unmarked carriage, the better to keep their secret and preserve her reputation.
Rhys already hated it. But he would do anything he had to in exchange for more time with her.
“We need not leave,” he cajoled, thinking of how glorious it would be to frolic freely with her here for the next fortnight at least. Hell, perhaps even the whole bloody month. “Not yet.”
They could linger after the others had gone. The notion held untold appeal. The estate belonged to Brandon, after all, and the next house party was three months away.
“I haven’t even shown you the grotto yet,” he added, thinking of the cavernous room with its delightfully warm pool that the Wicked Dukes Society had made modern improvements to not long ago.
But Miranda shook her head. “I don’t dare. As it is, I’ve been gone from the school for too long. And if I were to linger, I would have no excuse for being here. We have managed to keep our liaison a secret from the servants, but what would they think if I were to remain here with you alone?”
“Perhaps they would think that I’ve kept you on to make your glorious desserts for me alone,” he tried hopefully.
“They’re already suspicious of me,” she said. “I can feel it when I’m in the kitchens.”
He stiffened, his protective instincts surging to the fore. “Did any of them dare to make even the slightest suggestion that you and I are lovers?”
“No,” she hastened to reassure him. “But I wouldn’t blame them if they had.”
“I would. No one causes problems for you without having to answer to me.” His words were vehement as they left him.
His protectiveness where she was concerned had not ended with the odious Lord Roberts. As the week had progressed and they had become even closer, the way Rhys felt for her had only grown deeper and stronger. He would use whatever means he had at his disposal to defend her and to keep scandal from her name.
“That is sweet of you, Rhys, but you cannot browbeat everyone into silence on my behalf.”
“The beating I have in mind has nothing to do with brows.”
“Rhys.” Water sloshed as she turned back toward him, her tone chastising.
“You are mine,” he said unapologetically. “Woe be to anyone who attempts to hurt you.”
Something in her face softened. “For the next month.”
Ha!He would not tire of her in the next month. If the last week had taught him anything, it was that every second spent with her only made him long for a thousand moments more. But he held his tongue about that for the moment, deciding to fight one battle at a time.
“We could spend the month here,” he tried again.
“To the demise of my reputation and my school both,” she countered, using that prim tone of hers that made him want to kiss her and then bed her until she was breathless.
He loved it when she disapproved of him. He was a perverse bastard, he knew. But then, he loved it when she was pleased and sated, when she was laughing at something ridiculous he’d said just to make her eyes twinkle. When she was moaning his name…
That last thought had his cock twitching to attention.
The look she gave him said she had felt it.
