Neville’s fingers bit into her hips. “DidWillardsay that to you?”
He was breathing even harder now. She thought ignoring the question wise. “Yes.”
“I will kill him.”
Well, murder seemed an overreaction. She hadn’t even told Neville the worst part yet.
Perhaps Willard had been right about one thing. Shehadbeen unaware. Not of the effect she had on men. Of men in general, she couldn’t care less. As a matter of fact, she would prefer to remain unnoticed by the entire sex.
All, it seemed, except one.
And, right now, from the way he was holding her, she knew she had thatone’sfull attention. She’d been unaware of the effect she had onNeville,other than to anger and infuriate him. But she was not unaware anymore.
Neville cared for her, she was sure. He wanted her, too.
Not in the same predatory way Willard had expressed his “passion,” but in a way that had left Neville frantic when he thought she might be harmed. She’d watched him push through the crowd, hadn’t she? That haste—that rude, thoughtless urgency so out of character—must have been on her account.
Nevillecared.Abouther…
Against his own will, perhaps, but he cared. Not out of some sense of superiority, as she’d once assumed. Nor because he’d thought her pretty and docile, as when they’d first met. But for some other, deeper reason. A reason that left him panting, almost wild with fear.
Should she be scared, too?
She wasn’t. Not any longer, at least.
“Let me go,” she demanded, testing him. Just to be sure. Because she’d been wrong about him before.
He released her immediately. But he didn’t step away.
Nor didshereleasehim. “Be honest, Neville.”
“Of course.”
“Do youreallyfind me morally reprehensible?”
His chest expanded and fell with each not-so-silent breath. “No,” he said finally. “I never have. But you… You frustrate me.”
She smiled in the darkness. The small win gave her an outsized thrill. Though at an equal physical disadvantage as she’d been with Willard, she was not entirely without power.
“Do you thinkyouare morally reprehensible?” she asked.
“No…” He uttered an oath beneath his breath. “Well, yes. Maybe. Sometimes. I have thoughts I shouldn’t have. I act in ways that I don’t want to act.”
Millie wrinkled her nose, remembering blonde curls. “Like with that woman?”
“No! Not her.Never.”
His vehemence gave her a start.
“I swear to you there is nothing at all between myself and that woman.” He gentled his tone. “Nothing. The thoughts I have, they are aboutyou. I was flirting, yes,”—he placed his cheek against hers—“but I was only playing a part. I was—”
“I know,” Millie interrupted.
And shedidknow.
Suddenly, the woman didn’t matter anymore. In fact, nothing mattered. Only Neville. He didn’t hate her, not at all. She didn’t have to understand why he’d acted as he had. There was always a constructive purpose to his actions. No matter what that purpose, she could trust he had a solid reason to behave as he had.
Why? Because Neville was not sanctimonious.