He frowned. “You’re not pleased with me?”
“You infuriate me with your cryptic planning, and then you don’t return until late, and I’m supposed to be happy to see you?”
“Aren’t you?”
“No.”
He sat back on his heels. He didn’t know what to do.
“I’m being given the illusion of choice while simultaneously being told what to do. I’m helpless in planning my own future and I bloody hate it.”
“Bravo,” Tristan said.
She threw a pillow at him.
“What can I do for you?” he asked. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to know what you’re planning.”
His stomach plummeted. If he told her and he failed, he’d regret it. He couldn’t play with that kind of pressure sitting on his chest. He’d let her down. His own pride held him hostage on that front. If she knew that he was being forced to bet their future on a card game, she would be devastated, heartbroken. It was cruel, what he had to do to try to win her. He just couldn’t bear her knowing. Not unless he won. Then at least he’d have so much more to offer her—their freedom from the Den, escape from her father, a real chance to make the dream they shared come true.
“I can’t tell you. Ask me something else.”
She folded her arms and kneeled. “I don’t want anything else but that. Why can’t I play a part in this if it involves me? It does involve me, doesn’t it?”
“In a way.”
“What does that mean?”
Tristan sighed wearily. This was not how he imagined the night closing after an evening of cards and a brilliant epiphany that gave him blasted hope. He thought he could wake her with his tongue and maybe they’d continue with other wicked things but not a disagreement and her evident disappointment in him.
“I wish I had something better to offer. I’m trying. That’s all I’m willing to say.”
“And I wish I had some control of my life.”
“Don’t we all? The truth is there is very little we can control in our lives. What we can seems—” He had an idea. “You want to take control?”
“Yes,” she bit out.
He got off the bed, her wary glare following his movements. He took the curtain tassels and returned to the bed, but near the wooden headboard. He bound his wrist with one blue rope and lay down.
“Tie the other.”
“What are you doing?” she asked in confusion.
“I’m giving you full control of me. Tie my other hand and I will be entirely reliant on your mercy.”
“How can you do this?”
“I trust you not to do me bodily harm.”
Her mouth opened but nothing came out. He offered her the other rope.
“This is absurd.”
“Tie me down and then see where this goes. Give it a chance. You might find you like having total control of me.”
She cinched the cord around his wrist and then tied an admirable knot around the bedpost.
