“Dickens killed the dog?”

“He was a very unpleasant little dog,” she said firmly.

“Nonetheless, with proper training . . .”

“It’s nice to know you like dogs and children.”

“Why?”

“If you didn’t, I would think you had changed beyond all recognition.”

“I haven’t changed at all,” he said staunchly, knowing that wasn’t entirely true, although he had grown more than changed. “I am very much the same person I was eleven years ago.”

“In some ways, perhaps.” She paused and studied him. “But there is a strength in you now, a determination that you did not have as a youth. You have, as well, a look of responsibility about you, and the air of a man who refuses to give up, who fights for what he wants.”

He grinned. “It’s irresistible, isn’t it?”

“For the most part, it’s annoying.” She raised her shoulder in a casual shrug. “Although, I suppose, if you and I were to meet as strangers, it might well be the tiniest bit—oh, I don’t know—intriguing.”

“Do I intrigue you?”

“No, Grayson. As I said, you annoy me.” She turned and continued on. “The others have gathered in the parlor to await dinner.”

“I would wager Miss Murdock finds me intriguing,” he said casually.

“I daresay, there are few handsome, charming men Miss Murdock does not find intriguing.”

“You think I’m handsome and charming?”

“Fishing for another compliment?”

“Always.”

“Admittedly, you can be most charming, when it suits you, and most would consider you attractive, even handsome. You always were. Of course your arrogance does tend to overshadow your finer qualities.”

“But don’t forget, I like children and dogs. Surely, that overcomes my arrogance?”

“That’s one wager I wouldn’t take if I were you.” They reached the parlor doors and she stopped and turned toward him. “I must confess, I am curious, though.”

“Oh?”

“What would you wish for, if you had only one wish? What do you really, truly want?”

“You,” he said without thinking, but it was the right answer.

She stared at him for a moment. “Do you?”

“I always have.”

“Hmph.” She turned away and stepped toward the parlor. “Now you are being ridiculous. In that, you haven’t changed.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Today you said what lay between us was both love and war. You know, they say there’s a fine line between love and war.”

“No, they don’t.” She shook her head. “They say there’s a fine line between love and hate.”

“Do you hate me?”

“Of course not.” She pulled out of his grasp. “I have been very, very angry with you, but I have never hated you.”

“Do you love me?”

“Don’t be absurd.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how I feel about you.”

“Camille—”