A shadow flickered in the clear depths of her eyes. Anger? Hurt? What did she have to be hurt about? He was the one so below her estimation that the mere idea of a relationship with him shocked her.
"Is that how you see me? Sophisticated and jaded? A dissolute widow out for a good fuck?"
Her sharp tone drew him back. Why wassheattackinghim?
"I never said that," he said tersely.
"You didn't have to. Your actions speak volumes." She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, and for a brief second, he was distracted by those heaving white globes, the taut rosy peaks. "Are you even listening to me?"
He snapped his eyes up. "Of course I am. But I have no idea what you're talking about. To what actions do you refer?" he said, matching his tone to hers.
"Oh, I don't know... how about the fact that youlied?"
His stomach slammed into his throat. Had she somehow discovered the contract with Bow Street...?
"Are you so ashamed of me, Ambrose"—her voice caught for a fraction of a second—"that you cannot tell your family the truth?"
He frowned. "I'm afraid you've lost me."
"You lied to your family about our relationship," she said succinctly, "and you've got Emma lying, too. I heard you both at supper telling everyone I'm providing a roof over their heads because I'm your patron. The altruistic widow who took pity on her employee's family."
He narrowed his eyes. "I don't believe I called you altruistic. Nor that we Kents were on the receiving end of pity. That aside, what would you have me tell my family?"
"How about the truth?" she shot back. "Unless, of course, it is too debased for your high moral standards."
He stared at her, stupefied. "You think I am misleading my family about the nature of our relationship because ofmorality?"
"Why else would you hide the fact that we are lovers?" Flags of color appeared on her high cheekbones. "I am not an idiot, Ambrose. I know what my reputation is." Despite the quaver in her voice, her chin angled upward. "I'd hoped that you saw me differently."
Understanding dawned. Incredible as it seemed, could this magnificent creature be insecure about…herself? "Youarean idiot," he said.
"How dare you—"
He didn't give her a chance to finish. Dodging her slap, he caged her against the mattress. Kissed her until she melted against him, her lips pliant against his once more.
"We're both idiots," he murmured, "you for thinking I could be ashamed of you. And me... for being ashamed of myself."
"You?" She stared up at him from the pillows. "What have you to be ashamed about?"
He found it surprisingly difficult to meet her gaze. "You and I both know I'm not the kind of man you typically consort with."
"Typicallyconsort with?" For some reason, that got her going again. She glared at him and pushed at his shoulders. "How many men do you think I've been with?"
He sensed a trap. "Er, I haven't... that is..."
"Two, Kent. And thatincludesyou," she said acidly.
He hadn't thought he could smile at so perilous a moment. From their previous lovemaking, he'd guessed she was inexperienced. The fact that she'd known only one other lover filled him with primitive satisfaction. Less memories to compete with. More firsts to give her—
"Why must men be so asinine?" she sputtered, apparently catching wind of his thoughts. "Just get off me, you lummox. Get off—and get out."
He didn't budge. Instead, he blew out a breath and said, "I'm sorry. Forgive me, sweetheart?"
Her lashes formed lush crescents against her porcelain skin. "You're apologizing?"
"'Tis what one does when one is at wrong. I should not have assumed that you'd want to keep our affair a secret," he said. "That is why I kept it from my family: I wanted to protect your reputation."
"You did it forme?"
