Her body went limp in defeat, and she growled in frustration.
“You’ll marry me then, if only to discover my lovely”—he let go of her hip and trailed a finger down the length of her leg, as close to sensitive inner thigh as their position allowed—“plans for you.”
Maggie closed her eyes and took several steadying breaths before rolling out of his grasp and coming to her feet. She ran trembling hands through her hair to straighten it as she composed her emotions. They insisted on rebelling at leaving the warmth of Tobias’s body. Her body certainly knew what it wanted—Mr. Tobias Blake. Thankfully, her brain still seemed to be in working order, and it remained aware of her family’s precarious situation. Curse it! And her parents. If they had not wasted everything on their artistic mania, she’d be able to marry whomever she pleased, even if it was a man with magnificent ideas and little knowledge of how to bring them to fruition. Five years ago or so, her dowry would have been able to provide the funds to start a business and find the perfect partner to make it a success. Now? Now she had nothing to offer Mr. Blake, nothing to build her own happiness with.
Somehow, during the intimate interlude, her banyan had so loosened it hung mostly open, revealing the notebook lodged inside her thin shift beneath that. She clutched the edges of the dressing gown and crossed them over the edge of her body, then tied the belt tight. She turned away from him and pressed the book to her chest. She turned back around and squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I cannot marry you.”
He rolled off the bed as well, circled it in a few smooth steps, and stood in front of her. He tapped her chin. “All right, then.”
She blinked. “‘All right, then’? That’s your response?”
He nodded. “It’s a terrible decision, obviously, but”—he shrugged—“what can I do?”
Kiss me again. She tangled her fingers in the folds of her banyan to keep from reaching for him. “Quite right.”
He stood and offered her his arm. “Be my friend, instead?”
She hesitated to take the offered arm. Should she spend time with him, the others would whisper, her parents would hope. “You’re not taken in by my mother’s talk of fate, are you?”
He laughed, long and loud, and wiped the corners of his eyes when he’d finished. “Absolutely not. I do not abide by fate. Never have. I make my own life.”
“Good. Then, I think we can continue to be friends.”
But husband and wife? No, unfortunately not.
Chapter 10
Tobias sauntered into the hallway outside of Maggie’s room as if he hadn’t just been punched in the gut. He should have known she’d say no. What reason had she to say yes, other than to repair her reputation? And he already knew she cared not for that. Certainly, Tobias himself offered nothing a lady like Maggie would want. Celia had taught him that. He should have listened to her lessons more closely. At least Maggie had not laughed when he’d revealed his plans. But she’d not trusted him, either. Surely, if she had, she would not have given him such a resounding rejection. He still felt the sting of it in his chest.
What he was not feeling was alert, so when a large shadow stepped in front of him and stopped his progress, he almost screamed like a frightened child. He didn’t. He swallowed his cry and slapped his hands over his mouth, unwilling to let a yelp bring attention to Maggie’s bedroom door. They’d had enough interference of that sort, thank you very much.
But as his eyes grew accustomed to the candle-less dark of the hallway, he realized he was about to experience interference of a different kind altogether.
“What were you doing in there?” Raph Bromley, Viscount Stillman and (more importantly in the present situation) Maggie’s eldest brother, growled.
Tobias didn’t have to think to slip into his devil-may-care persona. He wore it like he wore his own skin. “Having a tea party and discussing the latest Parisian fashions. Waists are lowering, you know, and a good thing, too. I, for one, enjoy a woman’s waist, the thrill of the curve between hip and bosom. I—”
“I’m not a violent man, Mr. Blake. But I’ll make an exception for you because, as I’m sure you’re aware, Maggie is not to be trifled with.”
“No, of course not. But if she cares to trifle with me, that’s another matter. Now, now, unclench those fists, viscount.” Tobias slipped out of the insouciant role and walked past Stillman, shoving his shoulder into the bigger man’s arm as he passed. “I hold your sister in the highest regard.” He turned on his toe and found Stillman glaring at him, his large arms crossed over his chest. “In fact,” Tobias drawled, “why haven’t you cornered me before this?”
“Are you insinuating—”
“That you’ve failed in your brotherly duty? Yes. I’m pleased that, in your case, there is no truth to the old idea that he with brawn has no brain.”
Stillman’s arms fell to his sides, and he swept one hand through his hair with a sigh. “I should call you out. But I hear you’re a crack shot. Care for a drink instead?”
Tobias’s eyebrows rose high. “That’s a change of pace. Even my best friend brawled me when I injured him this summer. I was expecting another bout of hallway fisticuffs.” He shook his head slowly, as if sad. “Two in less than a year. Do you suppose that’s a record?”
“Do you want to have a drink or not?”
“I assume that drink comes with words as well?”
The giant shadow nodded.
“Very well.” Tobias sighed heavily. “I suppose I must. Seeing as how you’re a veritable titan.”
“Titan?”
