“I am not ruined,” she said tightly between clenched teeth. Oh, how she despised that expression and all its antiquated implications. She lunged from the bed and glared down at him in his naked glory, trying not to let the sight of him thusly dazzle her.

“A gentleman does not dally with a lady and then not offer for her hand. It must be done. Honor demands it. You’re under my protection whilst here and I abused that trust—”

She snorted. “Oh, spare me your noble altruism. I am not ruined like some bit of fruit that has gone sour and spoiled. I do not require saving. Any more than I require a husband.”

His hands bobbed on the air as though attempting to mollify her. As though she were some wild steed in need of quieting. “Now, Nora. Be reasonable.”

She sucked in a hissing breath. “Do not tell me to be reasonable. That’s what men always say to women they cannot control.”

His gaze widened and he looked her up and down appraisingly, his obsidian eyes staring at her as though he could see directly through her garments to the hollows and swells of her flesh beneath. “I would not be so foolish as to think you could ever be controlled, Nora.”

Something stirred in her belly at his admiring look, at his deep voice and smoldering examination of her—a rekindling of the fire that had not yet been extinguished.

He tsked his tongue and continued, “Nor would I ever try to control you, Nora. That would be akin to sacrilege.” His eyes swept over her again and it was tempting to forget that this man had insulted her with a backhanded proposal of matrimony.

And yet forget she would not.

She might not have been a girl with a head full of romantic dreams, but she knew how one ought to be proposed to and this was most assuredly not it.

She breathed in, fighting to reclaim her composure. “You had a problem tonight, sir, which I created, admittedly, so I corrected the situation for you. No harm done. You are not bound to me. You need not give up the elegant Lady Elise and saddle yourself with the likes of me. That particular shame is not one you must endure.” If her voice sounded cutting, she was glad for it. Let him feel every bit of her indignation.

“Nora. That is not . . .”

“Not the insult you intended?”

He stared at her in frustration. “That is—”

She continued, “Do not worry yourself. You’re still free, fret not. Free to become the Duke of Birchwood without an unfortunate and embarrassing wife clinging to you.”

She did not linger to hear the rest of his words. She had heard more than enough.

She marched a hard line toward the door. “If you do not mind, I shall use the door this time.”