He could barely control himself. “I’m going to have to lock you up,” he said, more to himself than to her. “That is it. That is the only solution. I am going to have to hold you down and—”

“If you’ll just lis—”

“Get in here,” he bit off, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into his bedroom. It was the farthest from Phelps’s small quarters off the drawing room. The valet usually slept like the dead, but with Gareth’s luck, this would be the night he decided to awaken for a midnight snack.

“Gareth,” Hyacinth whispered, scurrying behind him, “I have to tell you—”

He turned on her with furious eyes. “I don’t want to hear anything from you that doesn’t start with ‘I’m a damned fool.’ ”

She crossed her arms. “Well, I’m certainly not going to say that.”

He flexed and bent his fingers, the carefully controlled movement the only thing that was keeping him from lunging at her. The world was turning a dangerous shade of red, and all he could think of was the image of her racing across Mayfair, by herself, only to be attacked, mauled—

“I’m going to kill you,” he ground out.

Hell, if anyone was going to attack or maul her, it might as well be him.

But she was just shaking her head, not listening to anything he was saying. “Gareth, I have to—”

“No,” he said forcefully. “Not a word. Don’t say a word. Just sit there—” He blinked, realizing that she was standing, then pointed at the bed. “Sit there,” he said, “quietly until I figure out what the hell to do with you.”

She sat, and for once she didn’t look as if she was going to open her mouth to speak. In fact, she looked somewhat smug.

Which made him instantly suspicious. He had no idea how she had figured out that he had chosen that night to return to Clair House for one last search for the jewels. He must have let something slip, alluded to the trip during one of their recent conversations. He would have liked to think that he was more careful than that, but Hyacinth was fiendishly clever, and if anyone could have deduced his intentions, it would be her.

It was a damn fool endeavor in his opinion; he didn’t have a clue where the diamonds might be save for Hyacinth’s theory about the baroness’s bedchamber. But he had promised her he would go, and he must have had a more finely tuned sense of honor than he had thought, because here he was, heading out to Clair House for the third time that month.

He glared at her.

She smiled serenely.

Sending him right over the edge. That was it. That was absolutely—

“All right,” he said, his voice so low it was almost shaking. “We are going to lay out some rules, right here and right now.”

Her spine stiffened. “I beg your pardon.”

“When we are married, you will not exit the house without my permission—”

“Ever?” she cut in.

“Until you have proven yourself to be a responsible adult,” he finished, barely recognizing himself in his own words. But if this was what it took to keep the bloody little fool safe from herself, then so be it.

She let out an impatient breath. “When did you grow so pompous?”

“When I fell in love with you!” he practically roared. Or he would have, if they hadn’t been in the middle of a building of apartments, all inhabited by single men who stayed up late and liked to gossip.

“You…You…You what?”

Her mouth fell open into a fetching little oval, but Gareth was too far gone to appreciate the effect. “I love you, you idiot woman,” he said, his arms jerking and flailing like a madman’s. It was astonishing, what she had reduced him to. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost his temper like this, the last time someone had made him so angry that he could barely speak.

Except for her, of course.

He ground his teeth together. “You are the most maddening, frustrating—”

“But—”

“And you never know when to stop talking, but God help me, I love you, anyway,—

“But, Gareth—”

“And if I have to tie you to the damned bed just to keep you safe from yourself, as God is my witness, that is what I’ll do.”

“But Gareth—”

“Not a word. Not a single bloody word,” he said, wagging his finger toward her in an extremely impolite manner. Finally, his hand seemed to freeze, his index finger stuck into a point, and after a few jerky motions, he managed to still himself and drag his hands to his hips.

She was staring at him, her blue eyes large and filled with wonder. Gareth couldn’t tear his gaze away as she slowly rose to her feet and closed the distance between them.

“You love me?” she whispered.

“It will be the death of me, I’m sure, but yes.” He sighed wearily, exhausted simply by the prospect of it all. “I can’t seem to help myself.”

“Oh.” Her lips quivered, then wobbled, and then somehow she was smiling. “Good.”

“Good?” he echoed. “That’s all you have to say?”

She stepped forward, touched his cheek. “I love you, too. With all my heart, with everything I am, and everything—”

He’d never know what she’d been about to say. It was lost beneath his kiss.

“Gareth,” she gasped, during the bare moment when he paused for breath.

“Not now,” he said, his mouth taking hers again. He couldn’t stop. He’d told her, and now he had to show her.