"I somehow doubt that," Dierdre answered, batting her lashes.

He hesitated, calculating. "My mouth may be racking up debts I can't pay off," he said. "What's my forfeit if I can't do it?"

"This hardly seems like you begging," Dierdre pointed out. "If it makes you feel better, you'll probably wind up back in prison."

"So you're fine with me landing myself in prison, but not with anyone else putting me there? I see how this goes." He slid off the edge of the bed. "I'm warning you," he told her. "If I go out this door, I'm coming back with an inebriated countess. You stand warned."

Dierdre snorted. "Well, I'm not begging you," she pointed out. "I'm not the one who thinks that sounds exciting."

"I also find a challenge exciting," he said loftily. "No no, it's too late to stop me."

"It's not too late to burst out laughing at you," Dierdre replied. "What are you going to do, go find Nialla and tell her you owe her a favor if she comes back up with you and brings me a bottle of wine?"

"That woman wouldn't do me the favor of pouring a slop-pot over my head if my face caught fire," he said. "The only way I could get her here would be pure skill and cunning, which I have in abundance. Also I just want some mulled wine. You?"

She smiled at him. "Wine would be nice," she replied. "I'd rather have you to myself, though."

"Then I'll bring some up." He swooped down to kiss her cheek. Gently he tucked her curls behind her shoulders, then selected one long ringlet and pulled out to hang beside her cheekbone. "There. Lovely. Stay just like that."