Her eyes widened until they resembled silver discs. The Valkyrie was back. “What do you mean, no?”
Had he been less experienced in battle, he would no doubt have cowered and beat a hasty retreat. Instead, he considered her, then evenly stated, “You’ll do perfectly well warming my bed.”
“What?” Thunderstruck, she stared at him. Any doubts he’d had over her complete blindness to her own attractions were slain by the dumfounded look in her eyes. Then she drew herself up; cool dignity fell about her like a cloak. “Stop it,” she said. “You know you don’t want me—”
“Madeline.” He waited until her eyes met his. “What did you imagine that kiss was about?”
She blinked, then frowned at him. “I…haven’t the faintest notion. Why don’t you tell me?”
“That kiss was intended to reveal whether or not we were compatible.” He held her gaze. “In case you aren’t sure how to interpret the result, let me assure you we are.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Compatible as to what?”
He arched a brow; who was being willfully obtuse now? “Leaving aside the subject of marriage—”
“Please don’t insult my intelligence by mentioning it.”
He considered her raised hand, her contemptuous expression, replayed her words and listened to her tone. No matter what he said, no matter the force of any arguments he advanced, she wasn’t going to believe it was marriage he had in mind.
Even though it was. He no longer harbored the slightest doubt on that score, not since he’d followed her from Lady Porthleven’s terrace.
But her disbelief—more, her inability to believe—left him few options. “Very well. As I said, leaving that aside, after last night, I have one, perfectly sane, rational, logical and sensible goal in mind vis-à-vis you.”
“And that is?”
“I want, and will have, you in my bed.” The only woman who would ever warm his bed—the one upstairs in the earl’s apartments—was his countess.
She stared at him for a long moment. “That’s sane, rational, logical and sensible?”
“It is to me.” He kept his expression mild but uninformative; they could have been discussing crop rotations.
She studied him, then drew in a huge breath; as her arms were again folded beneath her breasts, the action severely tried his resolve.
She let that breath out with an explosive, “Lord Crowhurst—”
He rolled his eyes, which made her glare.
“Oh, very well!” She flung up her arms, relieving the pressure on his control considerably. “Gervase, then! But you must see that this nonsense—your ridiculous pursuit of me—isn’t going to get anyone anywhere. All you’ll achieve is to make me lose my temper, and as my brothers will tell you, you don’t want to do that.”
He wasn’t so sure; in her Valkyrie guise she was undeniably arousing. Of course, she didn’t believe she was attractive at all, so telling her so would get him precisely nowhere. He studied her—agitatedly pacing again. If she’d been insulted by his tilt at her, she would have been angry. If she’d been truly uninterested—something he wouldn’t have believed after last night’s kiss, but if she’d been honestly unaffected—her usual calm confidence wouldn’t have been disturbed.
Instead, here she was, wearing a track in his rug, trying to persuade him to stop pursuing her…. Why?
Inwardly, he smiled. The right question. The most pertinent question.
He took a moment to assess, then evenly asked, “What if I succeed?”
She halted, stared at him; although he could see her eyes clearly, he couldn’t for the life of him decipher her thoughts. Then she swallowed, and said, “That’s not the point.” Her tone was low. She lifted her chin, and continued more strongly, “The point is why you would want to, and we already know the answer to that.”
He held her gaze. “By your estimation, for a whim. Which, by definition, effectively translates to, ‘Why not?’ So let’s consider. Here I am, as you so rightly note deprived of feminine company. And here you are, twenty-nine years old, unmarried and unattached—and expecting to remain so for the next six years at least. We hail from the same circles. We both know there’s no social impediment to any liaison in which we might indulge.”
He paused, then went on, “I say I want you in my bed—the only hurdle to achieving that is your agreement. The only person I have to convince to say yes is you. And I intend to.”
“But you won’t!”
“Why?”
She made an exasperated sound. Her hands rose as if she were going to run them through her hair; she stopped at the last moment and waved them instead. “Because you don’t truly want me—you’re not truly attracted to me!”