Chapter Fifteen
Barnaby stiffened in shock. “What?”
“Please?”
Barnaby took Merry’s hand from his cheek, and held it in both of his. “No,” he told her gently. “Of course not. We’ll wait till we’re married.”
“We might never get a chance to be married!” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “This may be all the time we have.”
She’s right, a voice said in Barnaby’s head. He ignored it. “Merry, I’m filthy, and there’s no bed, and you’re frightened. That’s not how it should be.”
“Henry and I were never intimate, and that’s what I regret the most—because he’s dead.” The tears spilled down her cheeks. “What if we’re dead tomorrow? What then?”
Then he would regret refusing her.
Barnaby released Merry’s hand and carefully wiped away her tears. Her skin was soft, smooth, warm, damp. He didn’t know what
