Dimitri paused, sensing the question was important to Emma.
“What are you asking?”
“You have had lovers before me.”
“Do you wish me to apologize for them?”
She grimaced, and Dimitri harbored the hope that she was bothered by the thought of him with another woman. God knew that he had been tortured by Caliph Rajih.
“Of course not,” she denied. “But I find it difficult to imagine you are always so reluctant to end an affair.”
He shrugged. It was true enough. He had never sought to prolong an affair. There was always the danger that his lovers would begin to hope that they could claim more than a temporary position in his life.
Of course, he had never before had a woman who continued to stir his interest, not to mention his desire, long after he should have tired of her companionship.
A part of him was terrified at his need to keep her near.
Any man instinctively understood that the moment a female became as necessary as breathing that he was in deep trouble.
The larger part, however, didn’t give a damn if he were in trouble or not. The mere thought of his life without Emma was unbearable.
He brushed his lips over her forehead. “None have ever been like you.”
He heard her breath catch, but she obstinately pulled away from his touch, her expression set in grim lines.
“No doubt because they did not resist your need to be their savior,” she accused. “If I were foolish enough to give in to your urgings and return to St. Petersburg, you would soon grow weary of me.”
His anger stirred. Perhaps because there was a hint of truth in her words? He could not deny he made a habit of rescuing damsels in distress. And that he took pleasure in their feminine gratitude. It eased his guilt at his inability to save his mother.
But Emma had long ago transformed from a female in need of rescuing to the one female who could fill his heart with joy.
“Savior?” He shook his head, refusing to let her believe for a moment he considered her anything but a beautiful, desirable woman that he was determined to have in his life for all eternity. “Not even my dearest friends would believe I am anything other than a selfish pirate who takes what he wants and damn the consequences. And I assure you, I never intend to grow weary of you.”
She backed away, her arms wrapped around her waist. “It would not be a matter of whether you want to or not. Once I am safely in your care you would have no reason to consider me as anything other than a burden you would be anxious to be rid of.”
Dimitri studied her guarded expression, sensing the hollowness of her words. Her fear went deeper than him losing interest in her.
“Do you know, Emma, I believe I at last begin to understand you,” he said slowly.
She touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip. “I very much doubt that.”
“You are afraid.”
“Certainly, I am,” she hastily admitted. “I have been afraid since I discovered Anya missing.”
“You are afraid of your feelings for me.” He brushed a stray curl off her cheek. “That is why you continue to devise ridiculous reasons to keep me at a distance.”
Her face paled in the flickering firelight, the scent of incense nearly overwhelming.
“Your arrogance truly is astonishing,” she rasped.
His fingers lingered on her cheek, savoring the warm satin of her skin.
“Listen to me. You can trust your heart to my care. I will not abandon you as others have done.”
He felt her tense beneath his fingertips, her eyes wide and dark with wounds that she struggled so hard to keep hidden.
“Why would you say such a ridiculous thing?”