“I didn’t want this mission?”
“You didn’t want me on this mission with you. You asked for someone else.”
“Who?”
“You said”—he cleared his throat—“‘Melbourne, I will work with literally anyone else. I’d work with Old Boney himself.’”
“Who is Old Boney?”
“Napoleon Bonaparte, our—”
She waved a hand. “I know who he is. Why would I say that? I don’t like Napoleon. I feel cold and stiff when I think of him.” She shuddered.
“I think you were trying to make a point.”
“And I said this in front of you?”
“I’m used to it.”
“Simon.” She reached over and took his hand. He wasn’t sure if he should allow her to hold onto it. But now he’d told her that she hated him, she knew the truth. So he didn’t pull away. “I am so sorry I treated you like that. I can’t think what came over me. I can see you’re a capable person. I’d be an idiot not to want your assistance.” Her expression was one of sorrow, but it turned quite suddenly to horror. She pulled her hand out of his. “But you must hate me. You must have despised having to pretend to be married to me, especially when I didn’t know the truth. And then I all but threw myself at you.” Her cheeks turned from pink to scarlet.
“I don’t hate you.”
She covered her eyes with a hand. “I made you lie in bed beside me, and I put my hands on you and crawled into your lap. And—oh, my God—the bath.”
He’d been trying not to think about the bath ever since it had happened. The sight of her naked had been the fulfillment of every fantasy he’d invented since he’d first laid eyes on her. And she hadn’t disappointed. Her waist was as trim as he’d imagined, her hips as flared, her breasts as round and pert. And the feel of her wet, naked body in his arms had made him so hard it hurt to walk.
But he was a professional, and he’d been trained well. He averted his eyes as best he could and did his duty. She was injured and dizzy, and she believed he was her husband. The last thing he’d wanted was to take advantage of her.
But he had. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have allowed any of that to happen. I should have told you about this ruse all along, but when I realized you’d lost your memory, I was afraid you might say something or do something to give us away. Considering you were attacked last night, we can’t trust anyone. I kept hoping your memory would return.”
“I’m just sorry for throwing myself at you. I’m mortified.”
“No need for apology.”
“No, there is. You must have been horrified, and I’m so sorry for putting you in that position.”
“I wasn’t horrified.”
“Well, disgusted then. Oh, my God. Are you married in truth? Was I trying to seduce a married man?” Her face was pale and her eyes so large they were practically saucers.
“I’m not married.”
“You’re not?” She seemed to sag with some relief.
“And I wasn’t remotely horrified or disgusted by anything between us. In fact—well, that doesn’t matter.”
But he should have known an agent as good as Marjorie Clawson—that was her true surname—would never let something go unsaid. “Go on. What doesn’t matter?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“And I’d rather you would. Am I your superior? Can I give you orders?”
He couldn’t stop a grin. “I don’t report to you, no. But on this mission, I suppose I’m expected to defer to you.”
She gave him a satisfied smile.
“But this isn’t related to the mission.”
