Page 42 of Dagger’s Shield

10

MAËLLE

Ihad come close to forgetting how mortified I was over Dagger’s rejection last night, until we walked past the place in the hallway where I’d thrown myself at him.

What had nearly made me forget was Dagger’s response to the toast. My father had humiliated me in front of a room full of strangers, and he’d known exactly what he was doing. Best wishes to the man, congratulations to the woman, as though I were the one who ought to be grateful someone had agreed to have me. He would say I misunderstood if I confronted him about it.

Dagger had saved me, allowing me some dignity, and that was the trouble with him. How was I meant to keep my fake fiancé at a distance when he kept rescuing me? He’d done it when I was caught under rubble. Today, he’d done it again. Had Dagger known my father’s words did far more damage than being trapped in a bombed-out building had?

It was a wound I’d had since childhood. One that wasn’t visible but cut deeper than any knife.

I’d told Dagger I didn’t miss the person I became when I was here. What I’d left out was why. He’d sensed it, though. Or maybe he saw it. Maybe everyone did. Did they all think I should stand up to the man who thought so little of me?

I opened my bedroom door and went in. Dagger followed and shut it behind him.

“I need an hour,” I said. “Let me get my notes together before I brief you. I don’t want to leave anything out.”

“No.”

I turned to face him. “Did you say no?”

“You’re going to talk to me now, before you get the chance to convince yourself that you shouldn’t.”

“Too late.”

He half smiled. “I guess you’ll have to listen, then.”

I opened my mouth, but closed it when he pressed two fingers to my lips.

“First, we’re going to talk about last night.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said when he dropped his hand.

“There bloody well is, Maëlle. What you need to know more than anything else is that it took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to bring you into the room and make love to you.”

I snickered. “Make love? That’s⁠—”

He crowded me and put his arm around my waist, bringing me closer to him.

“I know you can feel me, mon feu, like you could last night. When I’m with you—hell, even when I’m not—I’m in a perpetual state of arousal. Make no mistake about how much I want to make love to you.”

I waited, not wanting to say all the horrible things to him that were rolling through my head. All of it was meant to hurt him, but why? He didn’t deserve my ire. My father did.

“Are you listening to me?” he asked.

When I nodded, he sat on the bed and pulled me down beside him.

“I want more than a night. I want more than a week of nights, or a month of them. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

This time, I shook my head. “Tu es fou et tu mens.”

His nostrils flared, and his mouth set in a hard line. “I couldn’t understand your words, but I know they weren’t nice. If you’re going to insult me, say it in English so I can experience the full effect.”

“You’re crazy, and you’re a liar. Are you happier now that you know what I said?”

“I’m neither of those things. I’ve never said anything remotely close to that to any other woman. And, with the exception of when it’s necessary for a mission, I don’t lie, Maëlle. I’m upfront about expectations, or lack of them.”

“I will be upfront as well. I am not interested in more than a night. All I wanted was to experience the sexual prowess of the great Dagger Curran. Nothing more.”