Her glance was disbelieving. “Obviously.”
He caught her shoulders. “Pen, you are the woman I wanted to marry.”
This was too much for even her besotted mind to accept. A hollow laugh escaped. “Cam, you’re such a gentleman, but there’s no point lying.”
“You’re the only woman I’ve proposed to. And I did it twice. What further commitment can a man demonstrate?” His grip tightened and she wondered if he meant to shake her. He looked like he wanted to. “How can such a clever woman be so stupid?”
She glared at him. “How can such a clever man expect a woman of the slightest intelligence to accept this flannel? We both know that your heart was set on Marianne Seaton.”
His jaw squared in rejection of her accusation. “Hardly my heart.”
He warned Pen to tread carefully and not bring messy emotions into their dealings. But he’d forced her into this awkward, revealing conversation. He could damn well take the consequences. “She was your choice.”
He shrugged as if it hardly mattered. “She was a suitable bride.”
“And I’m not.”
“Actually I find myself surpassingly grateful that you married me.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
Impatiently he ran his hand through his hair. “A gentleman shouldn’t say this, but much as I admire Lady Marianne, life with her might have lacked… excitement.”
Gloomily Pen surveyed him. “Excitement can be uncomfortable.”
“And it can make a man glad to be alive. It can make him look forward to waking up every morning. And going to bed every night.”
She flushed. “Sexual attraction will fade.”
He frowned. “I want you more every day.”
Be careful, Pen. If you pay too much heed, he’ll break your heart again. “It’s early days yet,” she said sourly. “You’ll become jaded with my charms.”
“You’re looking at me.”
She frowned, not understanding the change of subject. “So?”
“I promised that when you did, I’d tell you what I admired most.”
“So I assume that’s what you like most, your desire for me.” She tried to sound displeased. Whereas the pathetic truth was that she basked in his attentions like a cat in a patch of sunlight on a cold day.
“Well, it’s no drawback. You seem compelled to concentrate on the disadvantages of our union. After three weeks, I’d say the benefits far outweigh the inconveniences. Even with you moping like a schoolboy stuck inside on a wet holiday.”
“I haven’t been that bad,” she said, stung.
“Yes, you have. But I’ll set you right tonight.”
How could she love him and want to punch him at the same time? “I await your wisdom.”
He brushed his lips across hers. It was an affectionate kiss, different from the deep, passionate, hungry kisses he gave her in bed. She was on the verge of sinking against him when he raised his head.
“What I admire about you, dear Penelope, what I’ve always admired, ever since you rode that half-broken pony at the age of three, is your courage.”
Her heart dipped like a swallow in flight, leaving her dizzy. Oh, dear, she was in so much trouble. When he said things like this, when he made her feel that he and only he peered into her soul, she wanted to melt. Worse, she wanted to confess how desperately she loved him.
“It was a courageous act to marry you,” she said with that same edge, hoping he wouldn’t hear how she struggled to sound unaffected.
Her response didn’t stir his temper. She wondered where his anger in the coach had gone. “It was indeed.”