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“Yes. I want that too.”

It would have been so easy to sink into those words and let go of everything else.

“Cariad,” he whispered, “morning would come with a vengeance.”

Reina leaned against him, her breath filtering through the open neck of his shirt. Her nose rubbed softly through the hair on his chest, an innocently sensuous gesture that went straight to his groin. “Could we have this conversation in the bedroom?” she asked hopefully.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It would lead to something you might regret.”

“I’ve slept in an empty bed my entire life,” she protested. “Believe me when I say the only thing I’ll regret is not sleeping with you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I love you.”

His heart stopped.

“You do?” he managed to ask.

“Yes, didn’t I say so before? I’m sorry, I seem to be swimming through it wherever I go—”

John absorbed the rest of her words in a deep, devouring kiss. His hands reached down to grip her body as close as possible to his. The feel of her, warm and lavishly female, engulfed him with pleasure. He could have devoured her like a starving wolf. Breathing in deep gusts, he tore his mouth away.

Reina pressed her cheek against his chest. “John,” he heard her say eventually, “I know that I once said I thought of marriage as a trap. But there are arrangements I could make—trusts and settlements—a private contract—if you’d agree—”

“I would agree to any arrangements you wanted to make,” he said gruffly. “But let’s not build the house starting with the roof.”

He could tell she didn’t like that—she wanted to start planning it all out immediately. From the look on her face, it was clear her brain was busy with ideas and calculations.

“Reina,” he warned, “stop.”

“Stop what?” she protested.

“You’re thinking in circles around me. You’re preparing arguments. But this isn’t a blasted business negotiation.”

“No, of course not. I only want to address your concerns point by point—”

“You mean discuss our feelings?”

“Same thing. Now, first of all—” She broke off with a little squeak of surprise as he bent to hook an arm behind her knees and lift her high against his chest. “There’s only one way to stop me from thinking,” she told him.

John ignored that and carried her to the upholstered chair by the hearth. He sat with her in his lap, the sweet weight of her pressing deliciously on his aroused flesh.

“I want to say a few things,” he told her, reaching down to arrange her more comfortably. “Not as points for negotiation, but to try and understand each other. Will you listen?”

She nodded.

The silk brocade of her wrapper was embroidered with gold thread. He ran his palm lightly over the sleeve as it glinted in the firelight. It was a garment a queen would wear.

“You’re a force of nature,” he said. “It would be easy to become swept up in your life, and God knows it would be a joy. But I could never be a kept husband. I need to have my own purpose, my own goals. What’s more—”

“I wouldn’t expect—”

“Let me say my piece, cariad. There’s not a single advantage for you in choosing me. I can’t offer you wealth, nor high position, nor a large family, nor a distinguished name. You should marry a landed gentleman or a professional man in banking or politics—”