Page 48 of The Notorious Lady

He still wanted her.

But she was a harlot, and he detested harlots. He wrestled with himself the entire ride to his house. He didn’t want to have a harlot in his bed. But his desire won out.

Not hers.

She wanted him, too.

But she didn’t want him to wake up the next morning full of regret, especially since she knew she wouldn’t feel the same.

“Yes,” she answered hoarsely. He looked up at her then, surprised. He didn’t expect her to say this. His hold on her fingers tightened, and was it the beginning of a smile tugging on his lips? She couldn’t take it. “But I won’t.”

The smile dimmed in his eyes, his hold on her fingers loosening. “Why not?”

“You know why, Ford,” she said quietly.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I did.”

“This was a game today,” she pushed through her dry lips. “It wasn’t real. I am not your paramour. I am a harlot. Do you wish to pay me for the night?”

He turned away. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? Because if you don’t realize what you’re saying now, you will realize it in the morning. And I’d rather it didn’t happen.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? Then prove me wrong. Tell me you’re sincere in your request, or better yet, kiss me.”

He hesitated. Longer than she would have liked. Long enough for her to say, “I thought so,” and walk away.

* * *

Ford didn’t know why he’d asked Triss to spend the night with him. He didn’t know why he insisted. But most of all, he had no idea why he let her go.

He wanted her. He really did. But more than that, he actually liked her. He liked her clever mind, her witty tongue, and her confident demeanor despite the vulnerability deep inside.

He liked that she wasn’t afraid to disagree with him. She showed such passion when arguing her points.

What he liked about her most was that she cared.

Ford had lost this within himself a long time ago. He caught criminals because it was his job. He went after murderers because it paid well. He pursued this particular case because of the notoriety involved. Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten to care about the people—the victims, their families, their neighbors.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact time when that happened.

At first, he needed to care for his sister. He needed to clothe her, feed her, and keep a roof over her head—he didn’t have time or space to care for anyone else.

Then, his ambition took over and he wanted more and more admiration, money, power.

He liked that she pulled at the strings of his heart, reminding him that his heart was indeed still there.

But he still had his ambition.

Money. Power. Admiration.

And now… He needed to marry.

Ford laughed out loud.

What was he thinking about marriage earlier? That he needed a proper woman. Genteel and innocent. The sort of woman who would not look kindly at him consorting with a harlot.