would require the production of heirs and as such this agreement will give you the time to find a woman you would want as the chosen mother of your children. You are not so old, after all, and gentlemen of the ton have a marked propensity to choose much younger wives from what I have observed.’
Without meaning to he smiled, such direct honesty so very unfamiliar.
His glance went to her lips, full and defined, and he felt a surge of desire. God, it had been years since his libido had been so fickle and months since he had last bedded a woman.
The world seemed to stand still between them, any logic sucked into pure and utter confusion. Any other female of his acquaintance would have simpered and flushed in such a situation, but she stood there watching him, her glance strong and unwavering.
‘I also hope you are of the same opinion concerning this marriage as I am and share the belief that it would require no...no...’ She stopped, searching around for what to say and failing.
‘Intimacy?’ He gave the word in humour, but she paled visibly, reminding him in that moment of a skittish colt, wanting to be reassured on the one hand and ready to bolt on the other.
‘I realise, my lord, that there must be a great many young women in the ton who would jump at the chance of being an earl’s wife in general and your wife in particular. Even with the imminent financial collapse of the Montcliffe estate I feel certain you would still be a good catch. With the Cameron fortune behind you there would be a far better chance of acquiring exactly the sort of woman you would wish for. I could simply disappear and never be seen again, a former spouse who should not be a problem if I was to be thought of as dead. I would be quite happy with such an outcome if Papa was no longer with me. Indeed, I could go to the Continent and settle under a different name.’
‘You are seriously expounding bigamy?’
He began to laugh then, because what she said was becoming more and more outlandish and because he could barely believe that she was saying it.
‘Perhaps I am, my lord, though in the very best sense of the word, of course, and mutually agreed. I would also like to add that I wouldn’t have acquiesced to a union between us if I had not liked your character. I realised, quite early on, that it was most unlikely you would have ever been attracted to me in the slightest, had we met under other circumstances, and there was a good deal of safety in that.’
A challenge thrown down between them, Daniel thought to himself, and given with such an engaging and disarming frankness.
‘Such safety, Miss Cameron, is not the best building block for any marriage and I shall show you exactly why.’ Without asking for permission, he dispensed with the bag and brought her into his arms.
* * *
She should have been horrified. She should have fought off his grip and demanded release as his hands brought her in and his lips came down on hers. But her head would not obey her heart as warmth seared into disbelief and the world narrowed to a feeling that began in a place low in her stomach, before exploding everywhere.
His kiss was not gentle or tentative or kind. It was raw and masculine with an edge of anger demanding response. It was deep and unexpected, his tongue finding hers as the angle of the kiss changed, slanting on to another plane, splayed palms guiding her in, the sound of breath, the dissolution of the world around them, the focus of heat and want and need.
Another language that she had had no notion of. The clock in the corner with its heavy beat seemed to stop as she tasted him in return, his strength, his toughness, the sheer and potent force of a man who understood the power he wielded. There was no question of resisting. When her nails traced a runnel in his skin to bring him closer, his lips slid down the sensitive line of her neck. They would mark each other with this moment, she thought, as she tipped her head, the column of her throat exposed to the hard pull of his mouth.
But as his hand wandered to trace the line of her bottom under her billowing skirt she jerked back, the hue on her cheeks rising. This was unlike anything she had imagined. The danger of her response made her feel dizzy.
She needed to be gone, away from this room, away from the things that she knew must be reflected in her eyes and on her face and in the hard twin buds of desire that pushed against the material in her bodice.
She was pleased both for the coat and for the fact that he had turned to face the window so that she did not need to see his expression. Not yet. With shaking hands she opened the door.
‘I am glad we had this...t-talk, my lord, but now I must go.’
Then she was outside, her footman following closely behind down the steps of the Montcliffe town house. As they gained the road the servant gestured to the Cameron conveyance a good hundred yards away to collect them. She had asked the driver to park there, away from the prying eyes of others.
She prayed Daniel Wylde would not follow to demand an answer to all that had transpired between them. Her father was dying and she would do anything at all in her power to make him happy, even marry a man who, she knew in that very second, could only break her heart. Wiping away a tear, she swallowed and took a deep breath, the strength she had always kept a hold on returning.
At least he understood now the parameters of this relationship. Or did he?
* * *
‘Hell.’ Daniel adjusted the fit of his trousers over a growing hardness. She had dumbfounded him with her reaction to his kiss, no tepid chaste reply, but a full-blown taking of everything he had offered, the promise of lust in the way her teeth had come down on his bottom lip, egging on all that he had held restrained.
Like a siren. Like a courtesan. Like a woman of far more experience than she was admitting to.
His plain little intended mouse-to-be was baring her claws and turning into a lioness and all before they had even got up the matrimonial aisle. Nothing made sense any more because the only thing he was thinking about was following her and demanding the completion of an intimacy that had left him reeling.
He was glad that her scent lingered in the room, glad to keep the promise of Amethyst Cameron for a little while longer. The cloth bag she had brought in was still beside the sofa, abandoned in her moment of panic, some item of clothing spilling out on to his thick burgundy Aubusson carpet.
As he hauled the thing upwards, one handle broke and the contents tumbled out. An apron and a tattered Bible were the first things that had fallen at his feet, Amethyst’s name printed in the frontispiece of the book and underlined in different colours. He smiled, imagining her doing such a thing. Beneath that was a ragdoll with a torn dress and another toy whose identity he could not determine—a cat perhaps, its paws missing. Incredibly, a diamond ring also sat there amongst the folds of cloth, the carat weight sizeable, and the cut, colour and clarity unmatched. Valuable and forgotten, strands of cotton and dust caught in the clasps of gold.
Any other woman of his acquaintance would have worn the thing on her finger, showing it off, enjoying the admiration of others, but not Amethyst Cameron. No, to her the dismembered cat probably had more of a value and the Bible a better use.
Stuffing the lot back in the bag, he called to his footman.
‘Have this delivered to the Camerons’ home in Grosvenor Square immediately.’ Daniel did not wish to take the thing himself, an unaccustomed fragility setting his countenance on edge after the last few minutes with his bride-to-be.
He
