He had known more comfortable positions in his life, but he could not remember when. He could scarcely remember his bloody name. Desire swamped him; his hands could not explore her body fast enough; his mouth could not kiss her deeply enough. She sat on him, sat on the most urgently seeking part of him, and still it was not enough.
When they’d kissed until he could barely breathe, when he was seconds away from rolling her down on the floor and taking her, Cassin leaned his head back on the wall and gasped for breath, closing his eyes. He felt her rise up on her knees to follow his mouth, and he laughed, turning his head.
“Have mercy on me, Willow—please, I beg you.” He kissed her forcefully and then dropped his head again. “I am ravenous for you, trust me, but I can only take so much.” Another kiss. “You will kill me with pleasure.”
“You are pleased?” she asked, falling against his chest, breathing hard.
“I am beyond pleased. What is more than pleased?”
“Your heart is racing.”
“So many parts of my body overachieve in this moment, darling, it would be impossible to take store.” He bucked up just a little, allowing her to feel his desire. The two of them moaned at the pressure. He felt her go limp against him. He kissed the top of her head.
“But,” he said, forcing out the words, “we cannot continue without a discussion first. And a bed. Preferably. Also, a fire. But first, we must talk.”
Her head shot up.
“Spare me the reproving looks, Countess; you adore discussions, and I know it. I’ve never met a woman who loves to discuss more than you do.”
“I don’t want to talk about the arrangement,” she said into his chest.
“Nor I. I would be quite gratified, in fact, never to talk about it again.”
She raised her head and studied his face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I am an arse, Willow. An arse and blackguard and every overused sentiment you can imagine, and this is why. Something . . . happened to me when I went away from you. Good lord, I was eons away, it seemed—”
“You contracted malaria,” she guessed. She scooted closer to him, setting off a cascade of sensations that blurred his vision.
He cleared his throat. “Possibly. But no, I contracted the life-altering realization that I wanted you.”
He paused. Coward that he was, he watched from the corner of his eye. Reactions played across her face. Delight, then thoughtfulness, then narrow-eyed skepticism.
“Believe it or not,” she said, “I have not doubted that youwanted me.”
He cleared his throat. “Indeed. Well said.” She was so close, so beautiful. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting for lucidity. “Perhapswanting youhas never been the issue. I am guilty of kissing you, twice, only a day after we first met, aren’t I? I have alwaysdesiredyou. More, certainly, than ever I’ve desired any woman.”
She raised one beautifully auburn eyebrow, and he could not resist dropping a kiss on her nose. She sat perfectly still. He followed that kiss with a nuzzle, his nose to hers, and a kiss on the lips.
She accepted the kiss but did not kiss him back. She waited.
Cassin rolled his shoulders. “What I’m trying to say is, perhaps it took my going away for me to realize how much I wanted you in every way, every day. Not simply in my bed, but in my life. I want you as my wife, Willow. If . . . if you will have me.”
His racing heart actually stopped when he gritted out the words. He held his breath. He’d made the admission with a playful mix of self-deprecation and smugness, but he was terrified inside. She could refuse him. She had every right to refuse him.
“But nothing about your situation has changed, Cassin,” she said. “In fact, the threat from your uncle has grown since you’ve been away. Your letters claim the mining is going well, but is your future not still uncertain? Forgive me if I am afraid to trust your newfound regard.”
Cassin took a deep breath, considering this, considering her honesty and innocence. “I am not surprised, honestly. And that is why . . . ” He ran his hands up her thighs and over the dip of her waist, relishing the feel of the perfect line of her leg and curve of her hip, and then he pulled back one side of his waistcoat to reveal a pocket.
While she watched, he unfastened the pocket and pulled out the tiny velvet pouch that had made soggy journey to London against his heart. “And that is why, I should like to try to bribe you.Bribeyou to believe me.”
His fingers shook as he held up the pouch between them, and he said, “Take it, my lady. It’s a gift.”
She eyed him and slowly reached out her hand. Without pulling the string, she massaged the velvet to discern what it might contain. The ring would be easy to predict, and when she knew, she went very still. She stared up at him.
“You are correct about my uncle and my future,” he said softly. “He is a problem, and I cannot say if the guano will save Caldera. But—and I am ashamed to admit this—it took a journey around the world and months of hard labor in a bloody mine to make me realize that none of that mattered if you are not in my life. God forgive me. It feels selfish of me to insert you into the madness of my current uncertainty, but for once in my life I cannot resist. Being away from you has penetrated my notion of right and wrong.”
“Had you thought it waswrongto marry me?”
