The realization left him shaking, battling a too-powerful urge to put aside all explanations and react-act-do what he wished with all his conqueror's soul to do.
But he needed to think-to be sure, certain, that he wasn't being led by the nose-no, not his nose, but another protuberant part of his anatomy-into committing a deed he would later regret. He'd taken his stance, one he knew was right. Demanding her knowing commitment, heart, mind, and soul, might not be a customary requirement, yet for him, with her, it simply had to be.
His gaze roamed her face, softly flushed, then slid lower, filling in what the sheet concealed. Swallowing a savage curse, he swung away. He fell to pacing, his footfalls cushioned by the carpet. Why the hell was she here?
He cast a glittering glance her way-it fell on her lips, slightly parted. He heard again the urgent, intensely feminine moans she'd uttered in the orangery while writhing beneath his hands. With a muted oath, he paced to the other side of the bed. From there, the view was less torturing.
Three minutes later, he still couldn't marshal a single un-lustful thought. Muttering one last, disgusted expletive, he swung back to the bed. Sitting on it was too dangerous, given her hands and her propensity to get them on him. Standing beside the carved post at one end, he reached across and, through the covers, grasped her ankle. He shook it.
She muttered and tried to wriggle free. Devil closed his hand, locked his fingers about her slim bones and shook her again.
She opened her eyes-blinking sleepily. "You're back."
"As you see." Releasing her, Devil straightened. Folding his arms, he leaned against the bedpost. "Would you care to explain why, of all the beds in this house, you chose mine to fall asleep in?"
Honoria raised a brow. "I would have thought that was obvious-I was waiting for you."
Devil hesitated; his faculties remained fogged by seething lust. "To what purpose?"
"I have a few questions."
His jaw firmed. "One o'clock in the morning, in my bed, is neither a suitable nor wise choice of time and venue to ask questions."
"On the contrary"-Honoria started to sit up-"it's the perfect place."
Devil watched the covers fall, revealing her shoulders, clearly visible through translucent silk, revealing the ripe swell of her breasts-"Stop!" His jaw clenched hard. "Honoria, just-sit-still."
Tartly, she hauled the covers up as she sat, then folded her arms beneath her breasts. She frowned at him. "Why have you been avoiding me?"
Devil returned the frown. "I would have thought that was obvious. You've a decision to make-I cannot conceive that private meetings between us, at present, would help. They certainly wouldn't help me." He'd intended giving her time-a week at least. The three days so far had been hell.
Honoria held his gaze. "About that decision-you've told me it's important to you-you haven't told me why."
For a long moment, he didn't move, didn't speak, then his folded arms lifted as he drew a deep breath. "I'm a Cynster-I've been raised to acquire, defend, and protect. My family is the core of my existence-without a family, without children, I'd have nothing to protect or defend, no reason to acquire. Given your past, I want to hear your decision declared. You're an Anstruther-Wetherby-given all I know of you, if you make a declaration, you'll stick by it. Whatever the challenge, you won't back down."
Honoria held his gaze steadily. "Given what you know of me, are you sure I'm the right wife for you?"
The answer came back, deep and sure. "You're mine."
Between them, the atmosphere rippled; ignoring the breathlessness only he could evoke, Honoria raised her brows. "Would you agree that, at present, I'm free of your seductive influence? Free of coerci
on or manipulation?"
He was watching her closely; he hesitated, then nodded.
"In that case-" She flung back the covers and scrambled across the bed. Devil straightened-before he could move away, Honoria grabbed the front of his shirt, and hauled herself up on her knees. "I have a declaration to make!"
Locking her eyes on his, locking both hands in his shirt, she drew a deep breath. "I want to marry you. I want to be your wife, your duchess, to face the world at your side. I want to bear your children." She invested the last with all the conviction in her soul.
He'd stilled. She tugged and he moved closer, until his legs hit the bed. He stood directly before her as she knelt, knees wide, on the bed's edge.
"Most importantly of all." She paused to draw another breath; her eyes on his, she spread her hands across his chest. "I want you. Now." In case he hadn't yet got her message, she added: "Tonight."
Devil felt desire soar, triumphant, compelling. Excruciatingly aware of her hands sliding as his chest swelled, he forced himself to ask: "Are you sure?" Exasperation flared in her eyes; he shook his head. "I mean about tonight." Of the rest, he had not a doubt.
Her exasperation didn't die. "Yes!" she said-and kissed him.
He managed not to wrap his arms about her and crush her, managed to cling grimly to his reins as she wound her arms about his neck, pressed herself to him in utter abandon and flagrantly incited his possession. He locked his hands about her waist, steadying her-then responded to her invitation. She opened to him instantly, her mouth softening, a sweet cavern to fill, to explore, to claim.