He threaded his hand into her hair and turned her to face him. “Too much for you?” His expression reminded her of the first time—when he’d tackled her to the floor in Maidenhead and seemed so concerned. She realized that all along, even at their worst times, that concern had formed a reassurance in her mind.
She shook her head. “But I didn’t expect…”
He smiled ruefully, “I’d have been a little more restrained if you’d not tried to drain the River Thames.”
She felt herself flame. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“I do and I don’t mind,” he said, stroking her gently. “I liked it. But it broke my control. If you play with fire you will be burned. Or at least, get singed. As long as you understand that.”
Portia snuggled against him, needing him in so many ways that it bewildered her. And now they would have to marry. All escape was gone. At least she could soothe her conscience with the knowledge that it was his doing, and that she’d tried to save him from himself.
She couldn’t help it. She smiled with delight.
Those who dice with the devil must indeed burn. They were not supposed to find the flames so pleasant, though. Portia snuggled closer to his sweat-damp body and played with fire. He captured her hand. “You do like living dangerously, don’t you?”
“Alas,” she murmured into his chest, “I fear I do.”
He chuckled. “I look forward to the future with great anticipation but for now, love, I’m going to protect you from yourself.” He disentangled them and helped her to her feet. “Assess your hurts and be cautious.”
Portia did so and winced. “Rather more in some muscles than from the attack on Maidenhead.” She glanced at him mischievously. “Well, my lord, was it worth six hundred guineas?”
He immediately swung her up, sat in the chair, and laid her across his knees for spanking. Shocked, Portia writhed madly. “Don’t youdare!”
His hand rested on her buttocks. “Then stop calling me my lord.”
She twisted to glare at him. He raised his brows and hand. The wretch would do it, too. “Well, Bryght,” she bit out, “was it worth six hundred guineas?”
“Every penny,” he said and turned her to sit on his lap.
Portia glared at him. “If you ever spank me, I’ll tie you down and flog you!”
“That sounds like fun.”
She gasped and pulled away from him.
“I said we would be wicked,” he reminded her.
“I will not be beaten!” she protested.
He shook his head. “Hush, love, I’m teasing. If we ever do that sort of thing it will be for fun, and you will be able to stop whenever you want.”
“Forfun?”
He waggled his brows. “Confess. Before today, would you ever have thought to have such fun playing with the River Thames?”
And Portia hid her flaming face against his chest.
He laughed but separated them again. “It’s quite possible that Rothgar will be back soon, perhaps even with Fort in tow. I don’t insist on it, but perhaps we should have some clothes on.”
Portia leaped from his arms and began to scramble into her garments, half an eye on the door. He watched her, grinning, but at her entreaties he laced up her stays and then began to dress himself.
Portia was struggling with the fastenings of her gown when she detected footsteps. “Someone’s coming,” she hissed.
He laughed again and came to close the last two hooks.
“Your shirt!” Portia grabbed for him and was fastening the buttons at his neck as the lock turned. He detached her fingers so they were facing the door when it opened.
Rothgar came in and closed the door behind him. He glanced around. Portia saw her stockings and garters strewn across the floor and could have died. She looked despairingly at Bryght and he put his arm around her and held her close.
