For him, revenge came first, which was why he’d vowed not to marry until his objectives were met. Now he found himself in a situation where his honor might make him break that vow, yet the reason for his conflict did not appreciate his sacrifice one iota.
“Take care of it?” she echoed.
“If worse comes to worst, I’ll marry you.” Saying the words gave him a heady feeling; it had to be the heat. “You could suffer a worse fate.”
Apparently immune to sarcasm, Gigi began to pace. “None that I can imagine. If we were discovered together, my papa or my brothers will have my head—or yours, rather. It will be pistols at dawn or some such thing, and your blood will be on my hands.”
“Why do you assume that it will be my blood that is shed?” he asked coldly.
“Because the men in my family are excellent shots,” she rejoined. “And if you were to wound them, it would be just as bad! All of this is my fault. I should have never come?—”
“On that, we agree.”
“But you shouldn’t have been here either.” She glowered at him. “If you weren’t trespassing, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
He felt a muscle twitch near his eye. He was willing to do the honorable thing—the right thing—and this was her response? Not gratitude or, God forbid, some small show of excitement? Instead, she was pelting him with accusations.
“I was carrying on fine until you attacked me with a poker,” he said curtly.
“You pushed me against a wall.”
“Well, you strolled into this bleeding cauldron as if it were Hyde Park.”
“Caldarium. And you were right behind me!”
They were standing toe to toe. Her chin was tilted at a mutinous angle.
“This situation is at least half your fault,” she informed him. “I dare you to deny it.”
The heat in the chamber was oppressive, but his blood felt even hotter. It rushed like molten lava beneath his steaming skin. Skin that was uncomfortably trapped beneath heavy, sodden layers.
“I don’t deny anything,” he bit out. “I acted foolishly. Lust clouded my judgment.”
She blinked, swallowing. “Lust has nothing to do with it?—”
“This is all about lust,” he snapped.
Suddenly, he was done. Done with trying to control this out-of-hand situation and done with reining himself in. Done with sparing her delicate sensibilities, too. He stripped off his coat, tossing it to the ground.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Gigi gasped.
“Getting comfortable. It’s hotter than hell in here.” Grimly, he tore off his neckcloth and unfastened his waistcoat.
“You cannot just…just disrobe!”
“Watch me.” His waistcoat joined his coat on the floor.
“You are no gentleman?—”
“We’ve established that already.”
He started on the buttons of his shirt.
“Stop,” Gigi said in a high voice. “Stop right there.”
He scowled at her. “You feel no lust toward me, correct?”
Wetting her lips, she said, “Of course I don’t.”
