She forced her thoughts away with a harsh twist of her head, freeing her chin from his hold and her gaze from the nearly irresistible pull. “What happened was regrettable, but it does not change anything.” She stood, her voice shaking just a little as her fingers gripped the wool folds of her skirt. “Now if you will excuse—”

He stopped her before she could finish. “We aren’t done here, and you won’t leave until this matter is settled.” Apparently she’d managed to rouse his temper, as his serious expression had definitely taken on an angry edge. “’Tis not the way I would have wished it—nor the proper order—but I owe you an offer of marriage, one I would have made had I not fallen into the sleep of the dead or had you been there when I woke up.”

She ignored the none-too-subtle admonishment and turned away, unable to bear to look at him another second for fear that he would see her guilt and how much she wished it were otherwise. But they were at cross-purposes, and she did not delude herself as to how he would react if he knew the truth. Perhaps he would not clap her in irons, but he would despise her for deceiving him.

“You owe me nothing, Alex,” she said quietly. “You better than anyone know that.” She had not been a maid. She ventured a glance up at his face only to see his mouth turn white. Trying to douse the burning in her chest, she took a deep breath and added, “Besides, I came to you.” Under false pretenses, she thought guiltily. “You need not fall on your sword to assuage your sense of honor. If there was any dishonor done that night it was mine.”

She tried to move past him, but he took her by the arm. “This isn’t about my honor, damn it. Don’t you see? I want to marry you.”

That effectively stole the argument from her mouth. She stared at him wordlessly.

Seeing her expression, he dragged his fingers back through his hair, loosening the imprint from the helm that he’d worn earlier. “Christ, I’m doing a piss-poor job of this. But I’ve never done this before.”

He looked so boyishly discomfited. She smothered the impulse to comfort him with an equally awkward jest. “You do not propose to all the women you take to your bed?”

He gave her a strange look and frowned. “I do not take women to my bed.”

At first she thought he was returning the jest, but when her smile went unreturned, it turned to incredulity. “You are serious?”

He didn’t say anything, but it was clear he was.

“B-but surely that was not the first?” she sputtered. There’d been no indication . . . Her cheeks turned red at the memories. He seemed to know exactly what he’d been doing.