The pain was sobering, at least.
Miranda pulled him to his feet, lifting him easily. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t feel blood, but he was surprised to meet concern instead of her fists. “I’ve had worse,” he said.
“Oh, good.” Then she pushed both hands into his chest full force. His back slammed into a tree so hard he thought his spine was done-for. All the air whooshed from his lungs as his knees hit the grass and he wheezed. “What thehellare you doing here?”
He waved a hand in the air, which was all he could manage at present. From his peripheral he noticed her boot tapping with impatience.
“I can’t believe you’re skulking around my house like a thief. You know my father has guards posted?” She hadn’t waited for an answer, rambling on while slowly his breathing returned. “And why would you come here? You were quite clear that we didn’t ‘suit.’ The audacity to show up at my house in the middle of the night. I hope it wasn’t for anything…” she paused, her stance shifting. Devin got to his feet as the remnants of her blush started to fade. “I assure you, I am not the sort of woman who lets men sneak into her room at all hours. Kissing you was a one-time mistake. A lark. Curiosity, more than anything else. It was nice and all, but nothing I would miss.”
Ouch. Nothing stung his pride quite like her casually dismissing what, in his opinion, had been one of the more euphoric experiences of his life. The shots at his character were one thing, insulting his ability to please a woman was entirely uncalled for. She had hardly given him a fair chance. That was one night and he’d been holding back for her sake. Given ampletime and the freedom to act without fear of crossing a boundary, she might not be so dismissive. Hell, he didn’t even need a bed. He’d have her screaming with just his knees on the floor and her legs on his shoulders.
But that was not the point and hardly appropriate for an apology. He was here to make amends for taking advantage, not promise to do it better the next time.
Because there could be no next time.
“I know I behaved less than chivalrously—” She scoffed, loudly enough to interrupt. “I am here,” he continued, pointedly, “To apologize. After what transpired in my apartment, to push you away like that was…particularly, insensitive.”
“I don’t need an apology. I’m fine. Like I said, it meant very little.” The quick dart of her eyes said otherwise.
“Regardless. You deserved an apology.”
“I don’t want it.”
“That is your choice,” he said through his teeth.Impossible woman.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
He shook his head. This was hardly the place to be having this conversation. They were standing in the gardens behind her house, the space cut off from neighbors by a tall fence. Immaculately tended bushes of flowers and gravel pathways created a serene environment and an ill-fitting backdrop for the tense atmosphere. If her father had posted guards—and rightly so, Lord Wilde must know more than he let on—then Devin was not eager to be found here with Miranda.
“Where were you going?” Devin asked, glancing up at the window he assumed she’d climbed from.
“Not your business anymore,” she snapped. Without another word, she turned and marched for the gate. He darted after her, slipping through before she could slam it in his face.
“The guards will hear,” he warned just as she was about to let it fall closed. Miranda growled as she caught the gate and let it gently click into place.
“Don’t follow me,” she hissed, turning on her heel to continue toward wherever she planned to go at such an hour. Perhaps he had been right in assuming she regularly traversed the city at night.
“Miranda, stop.” He stepped in front of her. She appeared to consider a full-on collision for half a moment—a collision that he would see the worst of—and he braced.
“What? What do you have to say?” She stopped just shy of running him over, but made sure to back a few steps away so that they were never too close. He’d made her angry before, but there was something about her anger now that unsettled him. Beneath the anger she hid genuine hurt and he was the cause. He flinched as she crossed her arms and looked away from him.
He may have come here drunk, but between her boot in his face and her eyes stabbing through his chest, his inebriation had dulled considerably.
“You don’t have to accept my apology, Mira, but, I need you to know that my behavior had nothing to do with you.” He looked away, more angry at himself than she could possibly be. “I did not…” he cleared his throat, “I do not regret anything nor was I trying to give you the impression that bedding you was my only aim—”
She raised an eyebrow.
Fuck, he was floundering. He’d never had to apologize for his behavior. This is why he avoided virgins. He was loath to toy with a woman’s genuine emotions or take advantage of their innocence. “It was not my aim to take any liberties with you, or even to kiss you.”
“Ikissedyou, I believe.”
“Yes.” He did not need the reminder right then. Did not need a reminder of how willingly she had jumped him. Nor her ardor as her nails had cut into his neck…the firm command in her voice…
Do it.
