She reached up to cup his cheek with a disarming tenderness. “You don’t really want to marry—admit it. You never did.” “You don’t know what I want.” Catching her hand in his, he pressed a hard kiss into the palm. “I want you.” “But on your terms. I can’t accept those terms.” Tugging her hand from his, she wrapped her arms about her waist. “I think you should leave now. The servants will be stirring soon.” “Good. They’ll find us together, and then you’ll have no choice.” Mutiny shone in her face. “I always have a choice. But you did promise not to embarrass me in the future. Do you now mean to break that promise?” Shame rose in him, an emotion so foreign to him that he didn’t recognize it at first. It warred with the desperation rising in his chest at the thought that she really might not marry him.
I really like Maria, she really doesn't let Oliver get away with things.