She laughed, the music of the sound filling the room and warming his heart in ways he did not particularly like. “It is that,” she admitted. “But it’s an old recipe meant to help you regain your strength. Drink it all, please.”
He made a face, but downed it in a few long gulps. As he made little sounds of displeasure, he set the glass away. “How do I know you’re not trying to kill me?”
Her laughter increased as she began to rewrap his shoulder. “If I were trying to kill you, I assure you, you’d be dead.”
He wondered at her bright tone, at how easy the teasing was and how much lighter it made him feel. He’d spent half a year wallowing in physical and emotional pain and here…here it was different.
And he was just as taken aback by the fact that she was not mincing or simpering about what had happened between them. And yet it was a subject that needed addressing. He watched as she caught up his shirt and shook it out, then came around behind him to help him slide his arms into the holes. With her assistance, there was far less pain, though he still gritted his teeth against it.
“Diana,” he managed to grind out as a way to distract himself from the discomfort. “Are we going to talk about what happened last night?”
Diana froze, her body suddenly unsteady. Being near this man was hard enough, thinking of every moment that his hands had been on her skin and their bodies had been joined was distracting to the furthest degree.
And now he wanted to analyze those moments out loud. Like a good spy would.
She let out a long sigh. “I-I suppose we should,” she said.
She could feel him watching her as she walked away to open the curtains and let some light into the dim room. The view of the garden below helped a little, so she focused there and tried not to let her emotions swell up too high or too far. It wasn’t that she regretted what they’d done. She refused to be judged for something they had both participated in equally.
“Did I take advantage?” he asked softly.
She swung around in shock at that question. It was not what she’d expected, especially considering her lack of virtue had been clear in so many ways.
“Youare the one who is incapacitated,” she said.
A little smirk lifted one corner of his distracting lips. “Am I?” he teased, and some of the tension left both the room and her body.
Still, she felt heat flood to her cheeks. She was not one to blush often—her vocation had hardened her in some ways. And yet her cheeks burned like an innocent hardly out of the schoolroom. “You’re teasing.”
His smile widened. “I am. But my question is a genuine one.”
She swallowed hard before she whispered, “You didn’t take advantage, Lucas. I could have stopped what happened between us half a dozen times last night, but I didn’t, because I wanted it as much as you did. Wanton as that sounds.”
He held his gaze on her, his expression unreadable once again. And she hated that. Hated his ability to turn off emotion, to withhold it with such ease. It brought back such memories and such pain to go with them.
“And now?” he asked at last. “In the cold light of morning, do you feel differently about what we did?”
She turned her back on him again, clenching her fist against the cool surface of the window. This was harder than it should be. “I know the dangers of such a thing. Theconsequences.”
“So do I,” he said, and she started because his voice was right behind her now even though she hadn’t heard him rise from the chair or hobble over to her. He touched her arm and she turned toward him, staring up into his eyes. “But that wasn’t what I asked. What do youwant, Diana?”
She could not say those words, express what she wanted out loud. Want had gotten her into so much trouble in the very recent past. This felt different, though. She was older, wiser. And Lucas was not like the man before. He was not likeanyoneshe’d ever known at all.
He reached out and took her hand. His fingers were rough on her palm and sent a shiver through her that likely made her continued desire for him very clear. He smoothed his thumb over her flesh gently, rhythmically. “If you cannot or will not say it, then I will. I wanted you like I’ve never wanted another person, Diana. It’s disconcerting, actually, to feel so much physical draw to someone hardly more than a stranger to me. But that want is far from sated. Istillwant you.”
She jolted at the confession, so plainly and gently said, without false promises or manipulations that she would expect of a man trying to get his way. Especially a spy.
“And what does that mean?” she asked, her voice shaking.
He lifted a hand to cup her cheek, and it took everything in her not to lean into it with a sigh of pleasure and surrender. He had too much power. Power in general. Power over her. She should run from that, but she didn’t.
“I don’t know,” he mused. “But…you asked me for a month, Diana. Could I not ask you for the same?” he asked. “There is more than one way to heal a wound, and I think we could both benefit from it.”
She paused, for that phrase—more than one way to heal a wound—was exactly what she’d thought to herself the previous nights, when she was trying to justify a night of pleasure. Now he was using the same logic to offer a month of it. A month in this man’s arms and in his bed. Without promises or strings attached. Without anything but pleasure.
It was shocking, of course, to be made such an offer. Scandalous, even, though she did not feel scandalized as he looked down at her, very patiently waiting for her response.
“Unless you don’t feel the same draw I do,” he said, his tone unreadable.
