Chapter 19

Several Hours Later

The sun was going down when Corbin woke with a start, confusion flooding him as he looked around him.

The first thing he noticed was Lady Io Hale. Completely dressed, sitting in a chair, watching him.

He sat bolt upright, saw he was naked, and yanked a sheet over his groin. "I cannot believe I fell so deeply asleep," he said, more to himself.

"You were exhausted after all that exertion," she said her teasing tone making him blush like a schoolgirl.

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"Because I was thinking."

Why did her words give him chills?

"I greatly enjoyed this afternoon, Masterson. I want to do it again."

Corbin's jaw dropped at her words, which were the last he'd ever expected to hear. "Then you agree to—"

"Meet you once a week. Here. Until we can work this…whatever it is between us, out of our systems."

The joy he'd been feeling was instantly snuffed. "That was not what I had in mind," he said when it was obvious she wanted an answer.

Her eyes narrowed. "Please tell me you weren't thinking along other, more boring and predictable lines.

"As I'm naturally so boring and predictable you will have to define that more clearly for me," he said icily, flinging away the sheet and swinging his feet off the bed.

He glanced around for his clothing, which he vaguely recalled throwing to the four winds, and spotted all his garments draped neatly across the back of a chair. Corbin knew he had her to thank for it, which only, irrationally, made him angrier.

As did her eyes on him as he crossed the room. A woman of virtue would have looked away from his nudity. Not so Io Hale.

"You know what I mean," she said as he jerked on his drawers first. "Marriage. Babies. Family. Me as your legal chattel. That sort of boringness."

Corbin did not turn until he'd pulled on both his trousers and shirt and had buttoned up the former. It was a good decision because his molten fury had turned to cold, cutting sarcasm by the time he finally faced her.

"Ah. I see," he said, fastening his cuffs, an action that brought to mind, painfully, who had unfastened them.

"Do you?" she asked, squinting at him, as if genuinely interested. "Can you comprehend the sheer terror of giving your person, your freedom, and your very life into another's keeping? Tell me, Masterson. What would you do if the law said that when you married me, you became my possession? I could beat you, breed you, starve and lock you up, take away your children and your money, and control every facet of your life. Would you be so eager to be my husband?"

Her words hit him like a pallet of lumber dropped onto his chest.

Corbin wanted to say something flippant like, not bloody likely, but she deserved a genuine answer from him. And it was a simple one for him to formulate.

"No. I would not marry you, or anyone else," Corbin admitted, even though the words were bitter on his tongue.

Her lips parted and he watched as her righteous anger bled away. "Thank you for answering me honestly."

He did not want her gratitude. He wanted her, goddammit. Rather than admit that mortifying fact, he slipped on his waistcoat and said, "So then, what did you have in mind?"

"We meet here at the Boynton—or somewhere else you choose—once a week until we work each other from our systems."

Corbin was tempted to tell her that would be never for him. But half a loaf was better than none at all, wasn't it?

Except Lady Io Hale is not a loaf of bread. And you will likely feel pain equal to losing a limb when she tires of you.

He suspected that was true. He also suspected he would miss her until the end of his days.

And yet Corbin opened his mouth and said, "I agree. We will meet here. Every Wednesday."