There was no doubt in his mind that she was the most alluring creature he’d ever beheld. Utterly, elementally sensual.
He moved to the edge of the bed, catching her by the waist and drawing her close. He pressed his forehead to her belly. “Izzy . . .”
She pulled away from his grasp. “We can’t. Not now. I don’t know where Duncan’s gone, but he’s sure to turn up soon. We can’t let him find us like this.”
Ransom rubbed his face. “Believe me, Duncan has seen far, far worse. And he knows better than to ask for explanations.”
“I suppose this could be just another morning for the two of you. But it’s a bit out of the usual for me.” A wadded ball of fabric hit him in the chest. “Your clothing.”
Stymied, he sorted out the tangle of garments. This wasn’t “just another morning” for him, either.
He yanked the shirt over his head and punched his arms through the sleeves. Then he rose from the bed, pulling his breeches to his waist and fastening the closures.
He crossed to the dressing table, where she was hastily pinning up her hair. He dropped a kiss on her exposed neck. “Izzy, last night was . . .”
“I know.”
“Really?” He caught a stray curl. “I don’t think you do.”
She nodded and turned to face him. “It’s all right. You needn’t be worried, Ransom. I understand. Last night was lovely, but . . .”
But?
Ransom couldn’t believe he was hearing that word. Last night was so lovely, but?
No “but” belonged in that sentence. Only “and.” Last night was so lovely and passionate and tender and erotic and . . .
“But it was like a dream,” she went on briskly. “This morning, I’m clear-eyed and levelheaded. You needn’t worry. I haven’t formed any silly expectations of you.”
Good God. He was shocked speechless.
These were words that any jaded rake would be thrilled to hear. Words that Ransom would have been thrilled to hear, from any other woman, on any prior occasion.
Coming from her, this morning? The words were gutting him.
“We’ll get back to our work this morning,” she said. “I can be very professional. I promise, it will be like nothing happened at all.”
She slipped away from him, hastening down the stairs.
He let her go.
She had no expectations of him.
Truly, none?
Did she really think he would make love to her last night, and then want to go on today as if nothing had happened at all?
Well, of course she believed that. Why wouldn’t she? She’d spent the past few weeks reading through abundant evidence of just such behavior. By now, she was intimately acquainted with his history, his temperament, all his vices and faults. He’d done nothing but underscore the impression with boorish behavior and the occasional groping. Add to everything the fact that he was a scarred, blinded wretch.
And then, last night, he’d taken her virtue—without so much as the mention of marriage, or even any promises beyond the one night’s pleasure.
Naturally, she had no expectations.
He supposed that meant one thing.
If he wanted any chance of keeping her, Ransom would have to come up with some surprises.
Izzy needed the comfort of familiar tasks this morning. Too many aspects of her world had altered since yesterday. She was no longer a virgin. She was a bit sore between her legs. Her heart was raw and tender.
In sum, she ached all over.
What did last night mean to him? What did it mean to her?
She was afraid to ask those questions. She would rather linger in this giddy ignorance a while longer.
All these stretched and vulnerable parts of her needed some time to recover, that was all. And then Izzy could take a deep breath and a good, hard look at herself.
“You started without me?”
Then she looked up and saw him. The air vacated her lungs. Her grip tightened on her pen.
Snap, went the quill.