If only she knew that he had to contain himself when he was near her.
“You doubt my sincerity. Are you trying to tell me that you don’t trust me?”
“I hardly know you.”
“Then I hope the dig takes a while so that you can get to know me.”
“Why ever would that matter to you? You don’t need my approbation, Mr. Prince.”
“Dominic,” he reminded her softly. “And I want it just the same.”
“I’m not sure I understand why.” She gestured toward the carriage window. “You’ll get plenty of it from Miss Walcott this evening, I’m sure.”
“Miss Walcott is not someone I’ll be spending time with in the coming days. She’s not my partner in this endeavor. You are, and your opinion matters a great deal.” He swallowed hard. He heard the vulnerability in his own voice and loathed it. Yet every word he’d said was true.
Tess grew quiet, contemplative. She craned her neck to gaze out the window, as if hoping they’d arrive soon, and she could be free of him.
That was entirely new. Ladies liked his company. Adored it, in fact. She wouldn’t let him get away with charming her and it rankled.
When she looked back at him, he was on tenterhooks. Waiting for what, he wasn’t certain.
“In that case, can I ask something of you?”
“Anything.” He leaned forward, readying himself.
He liked that she was asking something of him. It would give him a chance to prove himself to her, and he wanted that opportunity.
“Be honest with me. You needn’t charm me or flirt with me or seduce me.” The merest tremor seemed to run through her, and then she dipped her head as if considering her next words. “I’d ask that you tell me the truth, even if it’s difficult. Even if it’s not the charming rogueish thing to do.”
She spoke with such passion that he sensed it was born of pain. He wanted to know where the vehemence had come from. Who had lied to her and made trusting so hard?
Damn it all. He rarely wanted to delve into the pasts of the women he was attracted to. Learning about another’spain created a sense of responsibility, of obligation, and he avoided such entanglement at all costs.
Once again, his impulses with Tess were singular.
“Be yourself,” she said softly. “The genuine Dominic Prince. That’s who I wish to work with. That’s who I hope to know.”
A simple request, and asked so gently. So why did he feel the urge to jump from the rolling carriage? His heart thrashed behind his ribs.
Be honest. Be himself. Why the hell did it seem so much more perplexing than merely seducing her as he longed to?
He wasn’t sure he even knew how to be himself, or who that man was.
“Very well,” he finally told her because now that she’d asked something meaningful of him, he damned well had to try.
“Good.” She tried for a smile but still looked at him warily. She then fussed with her evening gloves, tugging them up on her arms.
A moment later, the carriage rolled to a stop.
“I suppose we’re here.” She didn’t sound particularly pleased.
And as he helped her down from the carriage, he sensed the tension in her.
“You don’t like Miss Walcott,” he surmised.
“She doesn’t like me,” Tess corrected.
“I find that hard to believe. Everyone seems to adore you.”
