He swore softly. “It’s not charity.”
“Of course it is. Freely given as you said, but charity all the same. How would you feel in my position?”
“It isn’t the same thing.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“Because I’m a man.”
“And you’re allowed a pride I am not?” she asked hotly.
“No. I am allowed to work,” he corrected. “It is my responsibility to see to the care of those who are not.”
“I could be a governess, or a paid companion—”
His expression turned hard. “You bloody well won’t.”
“I’ll bloody well do what ever—” She cut herself off, held up a hand when he opened his mouth to fill the silence. “We aren’t going to agree on this, Whit. Couldn’t we agree to disagree?”
“No.”
“If we’re to keep the peace between us—as we promised your mother,” she reminded him, “we’ll have to find a compromise.”
It was a moment before he spoke. “What sort of compromise?”
“I’ll admit that my pride has made me, perhaps, a little stubborn.” She ignored his snort of derision and continued. “And I shall endeavor to be more receptive to your mother’s offers of assistance in the future. But you must agree not to push at the matter. My pride is part of who I am. I won’t trade it for a pretty wardrobe.”
“You’re such a reasonable sort,” he said after a moment. “How did we manage to never get along in the past?”
“I wasn’t at all reasonable when it came to you. Does the compromise suit you?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “No, but I’ll agree to it, for now.”
He looked so handsome when he was annoyed, she thought, with his dark gold hair tousled from the outside breeze, his strong jaw clenched, and his blue eyes dark and brooding. The muscles in his arms and across his chest tensed and moved under his shirt and coat. She wondered again how she had never before noticed the strength in him, or how it made her skin heat, and her breath catch…
“A penny for your thoughts, imp.”
She started at his voice and lifted her gaze to find his eyes no longer brooding, but laughing.
“Oh, they’re worth ten pounds at least. I certainly couldn’t let them go for anything less than five, and at that a bargain.” Her voice came out a little breathy, but she was so flustered, she was grateful it came out at all. Really, how embarrassing.
“Done. Five pounds.”
Mirabelle blinked rapidly. “I beg your pardon?”
“Five pounds for your thoughts just now. The ones that made you blush. I can pay up front if you doubt my sincerity.” He reached behind him and pulled a five-pound bank note from his desk.
“I…er…”
“Come now, you made the bargain. Surely you don’t mean to renege.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Perfectly, I assure you.” To prove his point, he held the money out to her. Mirabelle just stared at it in bewilderment.
Five pounds would be a welcome addition to her emergency funds, particularly as she had recently dipped into them twice.
She had as much pride as the next person, but there was a time and place for everything, she decided. And now was the time and place for a little pragmatism. Beyond that, she was just a little bit curious as to how he might react.
“Very well,” she said, snatching the note out of his hand. “I was thinking that your…ah…” She motioned in the general direction of his chest. “Your shoulders…” She swept her hand back and forth. “They’re…ah…they’re a bit broader than I remembered,” she blurted. Good Lord, that had been awkward.
Whit’s smile went from merely mischievous to decidedly wicked. His eyes, amused a moment ago, darkened with something she felt she might be better off not attempting to name. She was blushing quite enough, already.
“Well, good-bye, Whit.”
He caught her arm on a soft laugh. “Not quite yet, imp. Y o u can’t go about making statements like that to a man and expect—”
“I don’t. I’ve never said anything like that before…to anyone but you.”
He pulled her toward him slowly. “Nor statements like that one.”
She tugged lightly on his arm. “We’ve been gone too long. People will talk.”
“We’ve time yet.” He brought her that last foot forward to stand before him, and then brought his lips to hers.
Whit intended the kiss to be in tune with the moment—sweet and light. A simple matter of a few stolen moments at a ball. Keeping a loose hold, he ran a hand up her back to coax her closer, brushed his mouth across hers to tempt and tease, nipped gently with his teeth in an invitation to play.
The taste and feel of her seeped into him, adding another layer to the need that had been steadily growing for days.