Rebecca could take no more of the questions boring holes in her head. Before she thought better of it, she launched from her chamber and did not stop until she stood before his. Darkness had already fallen, and Rebecca was not certain if Wicke had left for Willoughby Castle or not. She inhaled deeply and knocked on the door.
Rebecca held her breath for a heartbeat, then, “Yes?”
“It’s Rebecca.”
Another, longer pause. “Come in.”
Rebecca mentally steeled herself as she entered and shut the door, tracking the room for Wicke. She felt the warmth of his gaze even before their gazes locked.
“I have thought of this at great length,” Rebecca started. “And we need to . . .” The words died on her lips.
Wicke leaned against the mantel of the fireplace in nothing but his breeches. No boots. No socks. No shirt. His mop of hair, sleek and wet, dropped pearls of water onto his shoulder that rolled down his chiseled chest. Lord above, she ought to have asked him to join her in the drawing room.
Her eyes flicked to the tub of water and back to him. “You could not have put on a shirt before I entered?”
“That is what you take away from joining me in my bedchamberalone? Again.”
Her face flamed. “Of course not. I came to discuss your proposal, among other things.”
“Then I suggest you ignore my state of undress.”
Well, I never!
And was that a twinkle in his eyes?
Rebecca gritted her teeth and girded her resolve, determined to keep her eyes locked on his and not wander about the rippled contours of his chest. “What are you doing here in any event? Were you not to follow Langley as soon as you were able?”
“And you believe I am able?”
Rebecca supposed not. They had left things rather a mess between them. Something she planned to remedy now. “Very well, let us discuss this burden you have shouldered upon me.”
“Burden?” He pushed back from the mantel and advanced on her. “You believe marriage to me would be a burden? What about my mouth on yours. Is that a burden as well?
She lifted her chin a notch. “I believe your mind has been addled.”
“As I have told you, I’ve never been saner in my life.”
“And I have always looked to you as a brother.” It was the only defense Rebecca could offer.
“Even now?” He cocked his head to the side. “What will it take for you to look at me in another way?”
“There is no other way.”
“There are many ways, Rebecca, but let us start with man. Just a man.”
“I am aware you are a man. I can very well see that.” Her eyes dropped. Lawd, they dropped, and they did not want to lift again. Rebecca had to wrestle her lashes back up to meet Wicke’s gaze again, inwardly cursing at the triumphant glint there.
She squared her shoulders. “Perhaps I doubt your sincerity.”
He raised a single brow.
“How can you feel the way you claim, for years, I might add, and not give any indication?”
“I am a fool.”
“Fool or not, why wait for my infatuation to pass? That doesn’t seem all that...” Rebecca searched for the right word, and decided upon, “manly.”
“Not manly? What exactly then, constitutes your definition of manly?” He closed the distance separating them, eyes suddenly sharp as a hawk. “And here I believed I had acted the gentleman all these years while you wanted a man.”
