She reached for him, grabbing his shirt over each shoulder. “You can’t be finished.”

He pulled his shirt from his waistband and looked down into the dark, glossy chocolate of her eyes. “Not by half. But if we are to continue, I need an affirmative answer to a critical question.” He stroked his fingertips along her cheek. “Will you marry me?”

Chapter 17

Marry him?

For the second time that day, Fiona was at a complete loss for words. He didn’t want to marry her. He wanted to shag her.

She pushed at his chest, sending him off balance so that he landed on his arse at the end of the chaise. “You don’t really want to marry me.”

He stared at her, a slight frown tugging at his lips. “Why not?”

“Look where we are, what we were doing. I may be from the country, but I am not a fool.”

“I’m very confused. Were you not enjoying that? I thought you were.”

“Of course, I enjoyed it.” She’d finally experienced a real release—orgasm, as the book had called it. The book had contained drawings of what he’d just done, but she’d never imagined the devastating wonder of it. She pulled up the neckline of her night rail, covering herself completely.

“Then marry me, and we can do it over and over again.”

That was exceedingly tempting. She looked at him once more, her gaze dipping to the V of his shirt, which exposed a tantalizing expanse of his chest, some of it dusted with dark hair. Her hands practically itched to explore him the way she devoured a new map, her fingers tracing over every fascinating revelation.

“This is not a good reason to get married.” She reached down for her dressing gown and stood from the chaise.

“It’s sure as hell not a bad one. People have married for far less.”

She had only to think of her mother and father to know that was true. They hadn’t shared some grand passion. No matter how hard she tried, Fiona couldn’t recall even one moment of intimacy between them—no stolen glances, no touching, and certainly no kissing. Still, having that…connection wasn’t enough. Especially not when independence was in sight, something a woman like her could never have expected. An amazing life—and adventure—was within her grasp. Even the queen had advocated she seek that. And if she did marry, she didn’t have to settle for anything less than the man of her dreams, a notion Tobias had put into her head.

Drawing her gown on over her night rail, she fastened the front. “You should marry the woman of your dreams,” she said softly. “Especially after what happened with Lady Bentley. Furthermore, I deserve to find the man of my dreams—if he exists.”

He stood, and with the fire behind him, his face was inscrutable.

“We both deserve to be loved.” She thought of how he’d lost his mother and the ensuing years of a difficult relationship with his father. Yes, love. And for herself, she also wanted freedom. “None of this changes where we are.” Except if she married him before the twelfth, she’d lose Horethorne. “Did you ask me to marry you because of your mother’s house?”