“Ye gods, you and your precious pistol.” She made a face. “Don’t worry. It will be safe with me.”
As opposed to my heart, which I’ve discovered is surprisingly fragile.
“I shall expect you to replace it if it’s lost or damaged.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “When Caro was six, she had a favorite doll with a porcelain head and—”
“We had better not linger here any longer,” interrupted Devlin, in no mood to suffer further indignities. He leaned over and felt around for his shirt. “Only Lucifer knows what demands the coming day will bring, so I suggest we return to our rooms and get a few hours of sleep.”
Anna watched him fish his clothing up from the stone tiles. Something was wrong. She felt it too. “Wait,” she murmured, as a stocking slapped against the velvet.
He found her breeches and dropped them in her lap. “Dawn is already creeping up to the horizon. So I suggest you hurry and dress. We both need to face the enemy with a clear head.”
“Then it’s best we clear the air between us,” she answered. “You’re upset. We should talk about why.”
Anna saw his body stiffen for just an instant. “I’m tired,” he shot back. “And have done quite enough talking for one night.”
Could it be that she had wounded more than just pride with her refusal?
“That may be, but I’ve a few things to say, if you please.”
Devlin stilled, but did not bring his gaze around to meet hers.
Drat, he seems determined to make this difficult.
“You spoke about marriage earlier,” she began hesitantly.
“And you rejected the idea out of hand,” he replied. “What more needs to be said?”
“You mentioned honor and duty.”
You did not speak of love.
At that, he slowly turned to face, “Did I leave something out?” His smile was sardonic, but it didn’t reach his eyes. A different emotion seemed pooled beneath the fringe of his lashes.
“Yes.” Her heart was thumping against her ribs. “You did.”
He smoothed at the crumpled sleeve of his shirt. “What?”
“Oh, you big lummox,” she muttered under her breath.
A spark of amusement lit the darkness for just an instant, the first sign of warmth in a while.
“Are you hinting a lady likes to be wooed?”
It was her turn to look away.
I don’t want to be wooed, I want to be loved. But maybe Devlin had been telling the truth when he had said that he didn’t have a heart.
“Anna, your Mama wouldn’t approve. Wrexham wouldn’t approve. Polite Society wouldn’t approve. Hell’s teeth—I can’t think of anyone who would approve.
“And since when are you so concerned with the opinion of others?” she demanded.
He opened his mouth and then shut it.
To her dismay, Anna felt tears sting against her lids. Love. Was it that hard a word to say?
Throwing off the velvet covering, she grabbed up her shirt and pulled it on. “You’re right,” she muttered. “We ought to be going.”