Yes, finally, for once. “Yes.”
“I think,” he began.
“Don’t think,” she said. “Let’s not think for a moment.” She put her hand over the one holding her breast. “Don’t move. Don’t do anything. Let’s just . . . be.”
A long silence, but not a peaceful one. She could feel the tension building in him.
Because he was good and honorable.
“I thought you were going to die,” he said softly.
“So did I,” she said.
“I thought you were going to get colder and colder and never stop shaking until you died in my arms.”
At the time, she’d been so cold, so bitterly cold and miserable that she’d simply let it happen, whatever it was, whatever he did. She remembered now: the furious movement of his hands over her body, the ache as he forced her blood to move again . . . his hands, his hands.
“I thought so, too. I thought I’d never be warm again. Or maybe not. I’m not sure I could think.”
“What were you doing?” he said. “Out there?”
She told him—all of it, including their imaginary conversation.
“Why couldn’t you throw something at me instead?” he said. “You couldn’t find a way to torture me without going out into a downpour?”
“It wasn’t raining when I went out,” she said. “Not a cloud in the sky. Well, except for a wisp here and there.”
“You were out there for hours,” he said.
“It felt like years,” she said.
“What am I going to do with you?” he said.
“A clandestine affair?” she said.
“I’m not joking,” he said.
She turned in his arms. “But it’s what we want. All this business about keeping away from each other. One can’t fight the Inevitable.”
“We didn’t try very hard,” he said. “We face one trial of self-control and we fail.”
“Lisle, I fail all trials of self-control.”
“I don’t. I could have summoned your maid. I could have shouted the house down and had everyone running about, fetching hot this and that and dry this and that, and fussing over you, and sending for a doctor in the dead of night. But no.”
She stroked his cheek. “Can’t you stuff your conscience into a drawer for a time? Can’t we simply enjoy this moment?”
He pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair. “You make me insane,” he said, his voice muffled. “But being insane, with you, is exciting, and usually I have a good time. We like each other very well—when we don’t hate each other—and we are friends. And now we’ve made love—and that went well.”
She laughed. “Oh, Lisle.”
“It isn’t a bad basis for marriage,” he said.
Aaargh. She drew back. “I knew it. I knew it.”
He pulled her back, tight against his hard body. He was so warm and so strong and she only wanted to melt there.
“Listen to me,” he said. His mouth was warm against her ear. The scent of his skin was in her nostrils and in her mind, making it soft.
“We’ll ruin each other’s lives,” she said.
“Not completely,” he said.
“Oh, Lisle.” She bowed her head, to rest her forehead against his chest. “I adore you. I always have. Part of what I adore is your honor and principles and ethics and duty and—and all those good things. It’s all those good things that are twisting your mind and making you not see things as they are. You are thinking, ‘I ruined her.’ The fact is—listen now, this is a fact: The fact is, I should have been ruined sooner or later. I’m glad it was you. One ought to start one’s love life in a spectacular fashion, and you’ve done that for me.”
“Start?” he said.
His entire body stiffened.
And everything was about to get worse, but it couldn’t be helped. He was determined to be honorable, and he was the most obstinate man in the world.
“I adore you,” she said. “I always have and always will. But I’m a selfish girl, and romantic, and I must come first in a man’s heart. I won’t settle for what so many other women settle for, ending up bored and lonely.”
“Settle? Olivia, you know I care for you more than—”
“More than Egypt?” she said.
A short but telling pause. Then, “What a ridiculous thing to say,” he said. “Those are two completely different things.”
“Perhaps they are, but one comes first in your heart, always has and always will. I won’t settle for second place in a man’s heart.”
She felt him flinch.
She pulled away and sat up. “I need to get to my room.”
He sat up, too, and her heart ached. The firelight outlined the hard contours of his chest and traced the rippling muscles of his arms. It made sunlight of his hair. He was the sort of man dreams were made on, and myths, and the dreams and myths inspired great statues of bronze and gold where believers paid tribute, worshipped.
She’d gladly be his votary. She was romantic enough for that, and both too romantic and too cynical to do the sensible thing and marry him.
He grabbed one of the cast-off blankets and wrapped it about her. “You’re not thinking clearly,” he said. “You don’t have a choice. You might be pregnant. E
ven if you aren’t, there are rules, Olivia, and I know you don’t want to shame your family.”
“Then we have to find a way around the rules,” she said. “We should make each other wretched. If you’d gag your curst conscience for a moment, you’d see it. You’re too reasonable a man not to see it.”
The silence stretched out. The fire snapped. He heard a distant hissing. It must still be raining.
Rain. Such an ordinary thing. It happened all the time. And it had brought her here, and brought the two of them to this.
The horrible thing was that she was, for once, reasonable. The horrible thing was that, in this at least, Olivia saw as clearly as he did. He cared for her. He was infatuated with her. Yet he couldn’t be sure that was enough, and the same conscience that urged him to marry her told him she’d be miserable if he did. When he’d let himself think of having her in his life, he’d always thought of what she’d do to his life, the havoc she’d wreak. He hadn’t thought about what he’d do to hers.
Now he looked, not into the simoom-riddled future he’d imagined, but into his heart. He couldn’t offer what she needed and deserved. She ought to be first in a man’s heart, and it had not occurred to him until now that perhaps he’d left no room in his.
“We won’t solve this tonight,” he said.
“Not likely,” she said.
“We’d better get you to your own bed,” he said.
“Yes. But we do need to conceal the evidence,” she said. “The easiest thing is to to build up the fire in the drawing room and throw my wet clothes in front of it. That way it will seem as though I did what I was trying to do: make a fire and dry off.”
Leave it to her. He was used to thinking quickly, but concealing crimes wasn’t his specialty.
She rose, her blanket slipping to the floor.
The firelight traced her ripe curves and glittered in the coppery triangle between her legs. He let his gaze travel up and down, up and down, while his heart ached. “Yes, you’re beautiful,” he said, his voice tight.
She smiled.
“But I can’t recommended wandering naked about a Scottish castle,” he said. “You’ll undo all my hard work and take a chill.” He was hunting about while he spoke. He found his shirt. He stood up and pulled it over her head and thrust her arms through the sleeves. The cuffs covered her hands. The shirt fell past her knees.