“
I’m not going to marry Denny.”
He paused. “You have told him this?”
“Not yet. I will tell him soon.”
“When did you decide?”
“Last night.”
She lifted her face to his and read pure male arrogance in the set of his brow, the little quirk at the corner of his lips.
How like him, to think that disastrous kiss had changed everything.
“No, not in the drawing room. I knew it later, in the forest.”
He clucked his tongue. “Ah, Cecy. Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with the werestag? I fear he will make you a prickly husband.”
“Don’t be absurd. And stop deriding me for my honesty, while you hide behind that ironic smirk.”
His eyes hardened, and he set his jaw. Curse him, he still wouldn’t let her in.
Exasperated, she pushed back the piano bench and stood. “Of course I do not mean to wed a werestag,” she said, crossing to the window. “But that encounter showed me what I truly desire. I want the man who will be there when I need him. The man who will protect me, fight for me.”
“I have fought for you, Cecily.” His voice was low, and resonant with emotion. “I have fought for you, protected you. I have suffered and bled for you.” He approached her, covering the Aubusson carpet with a lithe grace that made her weak in the knees.
For a moment, she was reminded of the majestic white stag: the innate pride that forbade him to heed her commands; the sheer, wild beauty of his form. They were so alike, he and Luke.
Cecily’s breath caught. What did he mean, he had fought for her, bled for her? Was he referring to last—
“I have fought for you,” he repeated, thumping a fist to his chest. “Risked my life on battlefields— for you, and for Denny, and for Brooke and Portia and every last soul who calls England home. Is that not enough?”
Mere inches separated them now.
She swayed forward, carving the distance in half. Her heart drummed in her breast as she whispered, “No.”
His eyes flared. “Cecy . . .”
“It’s not enough.” She lifted one hand to his neck, curling her fingers into the velvety hair at his nape. Yes, every bit as soft as it looked. “I want more.”
If their game was taunting, victory was hers.
Grasping her by the hips, he crushed her to the wall and kissed her with abandon.
”
”