“Your reasoning—it’s shit,” he said with stunning bluntness. “You and I acted on our impulses, and we’ll both be paying a price. But not because of your sister. If she cannot relinquish some stupid fantasy—which, seeing as she knows nothing about me, is all it could possibly be—then that is not your problem. If she cannot forgive you for something that has naught to do with her, then she does not deserve your affection.” Before Polly could absorb his words, he said, “Do you know what your trouble is?”
“What?” she said uneasily.
“You care too much what others think.”
The second time hearing that message—the first time being from Rosie—didn’t make it sting any less. Hurt wove a cocoon inside Polly, protecting her most vulnerable secrets. He knewnothingabout her. He had never walked in the shadow of ostracism, had never known the pain of being rejected time and again. If her experiences had made her acutely aware of others’ opinions, it was justly so.
He cocked a brow. “There you go again. Stewing on what I just said.”
“I’mnotstewing,” she lied irately. “At any rate, it’s easy foryounot to care what others think because you’re so popular. You know that you’re a perfect specimen of manhood—the stuff of female fantasies!”
His expression turned fascinated. “Doyoufantasize about me?”
Argh.Her head was going to explode. “That’s not the point—”
“Kitten, itis. When it comes to our future, all that matters is you and me. As for other women,” he said, his tone dismissive, “I don’t give a damn because they don’t know me. And do not, for an instant, mistake popularity for anything real. Before I came into my title and money, not a single well-bred miss wanted anything to do with me. As for the other sorts of females, all they are after is a meaningless escapade. Status, wealth, or a temporary diversion: that’s what I am to women.”
She couldn’t believe that he thought that. “Women want you for far more than those things.”
His brows lifted. “What else is there?”
“Well, you’re intelligent and witty. You possess a keen sense of honor. You can be amusing when it suits you and…”
She caught his lips quirking and realized that she’d been had. She would have been piqued—had she not also seen his yearning. His glow intensified as he absorbed her compliments, a hunger gleaming in his eyes as if he were starved for her positive regard.
That he should care what she thought of him melted her insides like butter. Still she muttered, “You hardly need yet another female to extol your virtues.”
“You’re not just any female.” He curled his finger under her chin. “Just so you know, you haven’t provided a single valid reason for why we shouldn’t get married.”
“We’re too different. And you just said you thought I’m too sensitive.”
“I think you’re adorable. You just need to grow a thicker skin, kitten, and I can teach you how, if you like. Trust me, I’ve had practice: my hide’s thick as an elephant’s.”
She didn’t know what flummoxed her more: the fact that he had just called heradorableor that he, the confident, charismatic God of Revelry, had had to learn to protect himself from criticism.
But she mentioned neither of those things. Instead, she blurted the question foremost in her mind. “Why do you call me kitten?”
“Because you remind me of one with your big clear eyes. Then there’s your hair, as soft and tawny as a newborn tabby.” Just as his words battered at her defenses, he added, “Not to mention that sweet, furry little patch of yours that I want to pet again and again—”
“You shouldn’t say such things,” she choked out.
“Why not? It’s the truth. Might as well get used to hearing it since we’re to be married.”
She could feel herself weakening, wanting what could never be. How could she even imagine wedding this vital, tempestuous man? With Sinjin, her secret would not be safe—nor her heart, she was honest enough to admit to herself. If they married and he discovered her abnormality… She shivered. The pain of his rejection would be too much to bear.
She had to put a stop to things now.
“I’m not the kind of woman you want for a wife,” she said resolutely.
“I say you are.”
“You don’t know me. I… I’m not suited for the usual sort of marriage.”
He regarded her with hooded eyes. “What sort of marriage do you want?”
She decided to give him part of the truth to throw him off her scent. “One that doesn’t require intimacy. I’m a… private person.”Because I have to be.“I have my own interests, and I want to lead my own separate life without my husband’s interference.”
What she described wasn’t what she wanted at all but a necessary arrangement to protect her secret. It was the sort of match that would have been possible with Nigel Pickering-Parks. But Sinjin was the opposite of Nigel: he was too astute, too intense, too dashed attractive to make a comfortable spouse. And given the primal edge to his nature, she suspected wistfully that he’d be possessive and protective of the woman to whom he gave his name.
