“Nay, lass .” His ire brought out the marvelously musical roughness of his brogue. “Fortunate is what you are. It takes a great deal of care to be left wanting. And you were certainly thrilled enough to be left wanting more.”
Insightful, inconvenient man. “Well, I don’t care much for being left wanting. It smacks of unfulfilled bargain.”
“You’d care if I left you ruined. Or perhaps not.” His smile was so knowing it was nearly intimate. “If I left you ruined, you’d be bloody thrilled enough not to care.”
Now that was insulting. And promising.