He sighed and approached, this time ignoring her warning look. He untangled her right hand from her left and held it. “I’ve never asked a virtuous woman to sleep with me before.”
Astonishment held her motionless, even as warmth radiated up her arm then down to her heart. “Never?”
His eyes lit with the wry humor that she found so appealing. “I won’t lie and say I’ve never approached a woman, but they weren’t virtuous.”
“I’m sure.”
However dangerous, she left her hand in his. They both wore gloves. The touch shouldn’t be as powerful as it was, but her heart thudded like a drum. His clumsiness was endearing. So endearing that she couldn’t quite summon a refusal.
His grip tightened. “You must know how much I want you.”
She licked her lips and despite the dictates of common sense, couldn’t help relishing his groan. “No, I don’t think I do.” She paused. “You know, this offer might be better couched with a few kisses.”
His lips twisted with self-derision. “I don’t want you making rash decisions.”
“You think your kisses make me silly?”
His low laugh vibrated through her bones in a most disconcerting way. “Your kisses definitely make me silly.”
Startled, she stared at him. “Really?”
“Really.” He took her other hand. “You have no idea the trouble I’ve had concentrating on the irrelevancies from London. Who cares about the fate of the nation when I could be holding you in my arms?”
She’d had no idea. “My lord…”
“In the circumstances you should call me James.”
Absurdly that unsettled her more than the invitation to his bed. “I don’t think I could.”
“You’re a strange creature,” he said softly and at last did what she’d wanted him to do since she’d left his bedroom. His lips skimmed hers with a sweetness that drizzled through her like honey.
She blinked up at him, dazed. “If you keep kissing me, I won’t deny you.”
To her regret, he released her. “You need to think about consequences.”
She frowned. “If I think, I’ll say no.”
Desperation flashed in his silvery eyes. Wonder rushed through her. She’d never imagined that she could make the great marquess desperate. “You may never marry if you give yourself to me.”
“There’s nobody I want to marry.”
He shook his head at her quick reply. “That doesn’t mean that there won’t be. I don’t want you regretting your decision.”
Feeling a sudden chill, she folded her arms. “If you keep talking, you’ll convince me that this is the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”
His lips quirked, although his amusement was sour. “It may well be.”
“Then why suggest it?” she asked tartly.
“Because the thought of you torments my every hour. Because I must have you or go mad.”
That was better. He spoke the words as prosaically as if he discussed a cattle sale, but his intense expression proved his sincerity. He gestured for her to return to her tree stump. “Sit down and hear me out. You need to know what you’re getting into.”
“Your bed, presumably,” she retorted, before reminding herself that it wasn’t wise to taunt him.
“I hope so,” he said fervently and she covered her hot cheeks with her hands. It gradually dawned on her that this man could be her lover. If she became his mistress, she’d embark upon a life radically different from anything she’d planned. She hardly knew how she felt. If she was truly virtuous, she’d be furious.
She wasn’t furious. She was… intrigued.