He set his teeth and heard his jaw crack. His leader jibbed; dragging in a breath, he held it, carefully resettled his horses, then exhaled slowly.
"I also want to marry you"-he forced the words out through gritted teeth-"because I desire you."
He felt her questioning, innocently curious gaze-he wasn't fool enough to meet it-that puzzled look that invited him to demonstrate, to teach her. She'd perfected that look until it could lure even him into deep waters. His gaze locked on his leader's ears, he kept driving.
"What, exactly?…"
He hauled in a breath. "I want you warming my bed." He wanted her warming him. "The fact that I desire you as a man desires a woman is incidental. It merely adds another element to my wooing of you, and our eventual marriage." He quickly changed tacks, focusing on the one aspect he suspected had most contributed to her confusion. She was direct and straightforward-she'd misinterpreted his subtlety. She equated subtleties with playing, with teasing-by definition not serious. "Given your age and lack of experience, as I wish to marry you, a period of courtship is deemed mandatory, during which time my behavior must follow a prescribed pattern."
He was driving dangerously fast. He didn't want to, but he drew back on the reins, slowing to a safer pace. He'd taken a circuitous route; it wasn't necessary to stop and turn in order to return to Hillgate End. Which was just as well. Stopping with him in his present mood and her in her curious one was the definition of unwise.
She'd been listening carefully; he heard the frown in her voice as she repeated, "Prescribed pattern."
"Society dictates that I can squire you about, but I can't press my suit too openly, certainly not forcefully. That would be improper. I have to be subtle. I shouldn't tell you how I feel outright-that's not the way things are done. I shouldn't seek to see you in any clandestine manner. I shouldn't kiss you-and I should certainly not mention that I desire you-even let you get any hint of that fact. You're not supposed to know about desire."
He checked the bays for a corner, then set them pacing again. "In fact, this entire conversation shouldn't be occurring-Mrs. Pemberton and company would unhesitatingly class it as exceedingly improper."
"That's ridiculous! How will I know if I don't ask? And I can't ask anyone else about this-only you."
Demon heard the uncertain note in her voice; much of his tension left him, swamped by a surge of emotion he was growing accustomed to-one Flick and only Flick could evoke. It encompassed an urge to protect, but that wasn't the sum of it.
He sighed, but didn't look at her-he wasn't yet sure how much in control he was, wasn't yet sure he could resist that puzzled, questioning look in her blue eyes. "It's all right to ask me as long as we're alone. You can say whatever you wish to me, but you must be careful not to let anything we discuss privately influence how you behave when we're not private."
Flick nodded. The possibility that he might forbid her to question him, especially about subjects like desire, had shaken her-for an instant she'd feared he would erect a wall between them. Thankfully not.
Yet she still didn't entirely understand.
That he seriously wanted to marry her was hard enough to accept. That he wanted to marry her because he desired her-that was beyond her comprehension. She'd assumed she'd always be a child in his eyes. Apparently not.
As the curricle rolled on, she pondered desire. The whole concept, both in general and specifically, intrigued her. She recalled very well the shimmering net he could throw, the temptation, the promise in the moonlight. Her experience beyond that was nonexistent-all she'd known previously came from overhearing maids comparing notes on their swains. But… there was one point that, no matter how she construed it, remained unexplained.
Drawing a deep breath, her gaze, like his, fixed on the ribbon of lane stretching before them, she asked, "If you desire me"-she felt her blush heat her cheeks, but she doggedly plowed on-"as a man desires a woman, why do you go rigid when we touch?"
When he didn't immediately answer, she expanded, "Like that night in the courtyard when we kissed-you stopped suddenly. Was that due to society's strictures"-she risked a glance at him-"or something else?"
He went rigid as she looked at him; she could both sense it and see it. Sense the sudden clenching as if it was her own gut, see the muscles beneath his sleeve tense until each band was clearly delineated. As for his face, when she glanced up in surprise, she found it as hard as stone.
Amazed, she lifted a finger and poked his upper arm-it was like stubbing her finger against rock. "Like that." She frowned at him. "Are you sure it's not aversion?"
"It's-not-aversion." Demon didn't know how he got the words out; his hands were locked so tightly about the reins that he could only pray the bays didn't choose this particular moment to act up. "Believe me," he reiterated, and had to struggle to draw breath. "It's not aversion."
After a moment, she prompted, "Well?"
He'd told her she could ask. If he didn't get her wed and into bed soon, she might kill him with her questions. He exhaled; his chest felt as tight as a drum. Dredging deep for strength, he took a death grip on his inner demons. His voice almost quavering with the effort of not reacting, he explained, "That night in the moonlight, if I hadn't stopped when I did-hadn't got you back into the drawing room in short order-you would have found yourself ravished under the magnolia in the vicarage courtyard."
"Oh?"
Fascinated consideration rang in her tone.
"I'd even worked out how to accomplish the deed. I would have laid you on the stone edging around the tree and lifted your skirts-you wouldn't have stopped me."
He risked a glance at her; blushing lightly, she shrugged. "We'll never know the truth of that."
He bit back a retort; narrow-eyed, he focused his gaze on her.
She glanced up, met it, and blushed more deeply. She looked ahead. After a moment, she wriggled, shifting on the seat. "All right. I understand about the courtyard, but why does it happen-you freezing like that-now? You even did it yesterday on the Heath when I accidentally bumped into you." Frowning, she looked up. "You can't want to ravish me every time we meet."
Oh, yes, he could. Demon gritted his teeth and let the bays lengthen their stride. "Desire is like a disease-once you've caught it, every further encounter makes it worse."