“Ah,” Patrick said, dropping my hand. “So you do understand.” He turned and nodded to the door that would lead to the stairwell. “If you don’t want me defendin’ your honor, you can head on up to that bed you mentioned us sharing.”
My collar felt suddenly too tight. “I suspect my honor has never entered your mind.”
“Oh, it has,” he said darkly. He leaned so close that his mouth hovered over my ear. “Say the word, darlin’, and I’ll carry you up those stairs.”
I could see the pulse in his throat. His scent corralled me.
“You’re an arrogant fuckin’ bastard, you know that?” I muttered contemptuously, vowels trailing.
“I am,” he admitted, backing away an inch, but only so much as to look me in the eye when he spoke. “Or perhaps I just like invokin’ that Scurry tongue of yours. It comes out
