Page 82 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

She met his gaze with determination. “Are you sure?”

Why was she being so difficult when he was trying his hardest to protect her virtue? A virtue she was angry enough to toss to the wind with the nearest man available, namely him.

Well, he meant more to her than that.

And Gwen was not going to give herself to anyone but him.

She trusted him. He also knew that she desired him, for her body responded to his in little ways that showed her interest was more than platonic. He knew that he was making deep inroads into her heart, too.

But he had yet to win her over completely.

Therefore, no matter what she said or did to lure and distract him, he was going to keep his hands off her. He refused to ignore his code of honor, assuming he could recall a single rule set forth in it while his brain was melting down and his restraint appeared to be slipping away.

She slid the sleeve of her shift off one creamy shoulder.

He reached forward and drew it back over her shoulder. “Don’t, Gwen.”

“Why not? Do you think I will regret our night of passion come morning?”

He gave a bitter laugh. “Think it? I know you will. Besides, there is almost nothing left to the night. It will be dawn soon. What we ought to do is sleep for the few hours remaining before Fuller returns to pick us up.”

“I promise you, I won’t regret a moment in your arms,” she said, her plaintive voice almost a whisper. “Tonight was all I needed to cut those bonds with Andrew. In truth, they have lately felt like chains upon me.”

He nodded. “Because of his inexcusable behavior.”

“Actually, no. It is because of my growing affection for you. This is not about Andrew.”

He stifled a laugh.

Was she serious? Her every thought and feeling revolved around that cad and his absence from her life.

“Gwen, this isn’t right. You are hurt and angry. I will not be used for revenge sex.”

“I do not even know what that is,” she said with touching honesty.

Of course, this aroused him all the more, because she was so naïve about the power games men and women played.

“This has nothing to do with getting back at Andrew for neglecting me. This is about me acting upon what I wish to do with you. The smoldering look in your eyes says you want me. Am I mistaken?”

“No, you have it right. Achingly right,” he admitted.

“Then why are you so reluctant?”

“I’m not. But you should be. It is too soon for you, Gwen. Too soon.”

She gave a curt laugh and shook her head. “I am two-and-thirty. If I delay any longer, I fear it will be too late. Must I humiliate myself and plead with you to—”

“No.” He threw his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I will not deny you, if this is truly what you wish. But are you ready to bed someone you do not love?”

“Who says I do not love you?” she shot back. “I would never offer myself to you unless I had extremely strong feelings for you. Violently strong attraction. Deep affection. Complete trust.”

“Then should you not trust me to do what is right for you?”

“You’ve warned me. Lectured me. Given me all the reasons why you think this is a bad idea. And do you know what?”

He sighed. “What?”

“All your griping—”