style="font-size:15px;"> Shock tautened her features. She had forgotten Roberta. “So you still compel me.”
He shrugged. “Only to remain at Castle Craven as my guest. Anything further is your choice.”
Straightening, she regarded him with the same chilly disdain she’d displayed last night. Would she say yes? It astounded him how eager he was for her to stay. He’d be in the devil’s own thrall before the week was done. God knew how he’d keep his hands to himself until she agreed to become his lover. As surely she must.
Still his gut tightened with agonizing suspense as he awaited her assent.
She sucked in a shaky breath but spoke with impressive firmness for a chaste woman conceding herself to a scoundrel. “Let us be clear then, Mr. Merrick.”
With a mocking gesture, he bent his head. “By all means, Miss Forsythe.”
Her voice turned flat as she strove for control. In her lap the ungloved hand tightened around the gloved one in silent protest at what he compelled from her. “In return for my presence in Castle Craven over the next seven days, or rather six days as I’ve already spent a night under your roof, you will surrender Roberta’s vowels. Her debt will be fully acquitted.”
“Your companionship, bella. Make no mistake—I want you in my bed and I’ll take every opportunity to get you there. No locking yourself away in the highest tower.”
“I won’t cheat.”
“And you won’t cheat in other ways. You won’t lock yourself away in your mind, either.”
She flushed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. When I tell you of my intentions, you’ll listen. When I touch you—and believe me, tesoro, I’ll touch you over and over again, in ways you haven’t imagined a man can touch you—you won’t fight the pleasure.”
She cast him a disgruntled glance under her lashes. “You certainly don’t lack confidence, Mr. Merrick. Do I have a choice about staying?”
His smile turned sly. And triumphant. He’d prevailed. Of course he had. In this particular game, he’d always held the winning hand. He refused to acknowledge the shaming relief coiling in his belly. “Does Roberta have any jewelry William doesn’t know about?”
Her lips tightened. “You really are a bastard.”
“Make no mistake.” This once, his cheerful self-abnegation rang hollow. She deserved better than this arrangement and they both knew it. He stretched his legs out with an appearance of insouciant superiority.
She gave a sharp nod, still with that hard light in her eyes. “You have an agreement, sir. I look forward to leaving here in a week with both pride and virtue intact.”
“And I look forward to nights of untold rapture in your arms, my dear Miss Forsythe.” His smile broadened as victory rang around him like a fanfare of trumpets. “May the best man win.”
She subjected him to a glare of fulminating dislike, although the color lingering in her cheeks from his kiss spoiled the effect. “Make that the best woman, Mr. Merrick.”
What had she done?
Sidonie remained as trapped as she’d been since Roberta had flung herself upon her mercy two days ago. She should have known her attempt to leave after only one night would fail. While Merrick cajoled her into staying, she’d desperately struggled to avoid her fate. But the threat to her sister remained paramount. Last time William lost his temper, he’d broken Roberta’s arm and two ribs. If he learned his wife betrayed him with his worst enemy, he’d kill her.
At least Sidonie had wrenched a small portion of control back, but she didn’t underestimate how difficult Mer-rick would make it to maintain her virtue. She already found him compelling and he’d hardly exerted himself yet to suborn her. Even now, when she’d pledged her word to cooperate, her mind scurried hither and yon to find an escape. But there was nothing. Only her hollow claim that she’d cleave to her chastity, however he tempted her.
Believe me, tesoro, I’ll touch you over and over again, in ways you haven’t even imagined a man can touch you.
She hid a shiver as she recalled those low words, promising pleasures beyond her wildest dreams. A shiver of fear. Also a shiver of unwilling interest.
“Shall we shake on the deal?” He stood and extended one elegant hand in her direction.
Sidonie fought the urge to tell him he’d touched her quite enough. “Why not?”
As his hand curled firm around hers, heat tingled on her skin. Heat that had surged to flame when he kissed her palm.
As he lowered her hand, his knowing expression bolstered resistance. Privately she might admit he drew her on levels she’d never known. To his face, she meant to continue her defiance. And hope against hope a sharp tongue and prickly attitude saved her. Six days of discomfiting, unceasing awareness of her captor loomed ahead. More to the point, six nights.
She met Merrick’s silvery gaze and acknowledged with a sinking feeling in her stomach that six days could be a lifetime. Only seconds into their bargain and already she recognized the dangers of allowing him to touch her when and how he liked. The memory of his fingers trailing over her naked skin blinded her to her surroundings. She shifted uncomfortably against the window seat.
He’d made no secret of his sinful plans. At least he’d been honest with her. A grim voice at the back of her mind reminded her she hadn’t been honest with him. Not completely. Not about a discovery that would change his life forever. Her eyes faltered away from his as though he might read her guilty secrets in her face.
“Have you had breakfast?”
She frowned and rose, even if it meant standing far too close to him. Perching on the window seat left her feeling disagreeably like a sitting duck. “Mr. Merrick, the way to my heart isn’t through my stomach.”
He arched his black eyebrows. “My sights are set on parts of you other than your heart, Miss Forsythe.”
“Oh.” She wished desperately he wouldn’t keep stealing her capacity for speech. For pity’s sake, what was wrong with her? He couldn’t undermine twenty-four years of rectitude with a mere kiss on the hand.
His thumb rubbed casually over the back of her hand. Except nothing he did was casual. “Given what we’ll become to each other, surely we can dispense with formalities. My name is Jonas.”
“I suspect it’s to my advantage to preserve formalities.”
“And I’m convinced of the outcome whatever we call each other, bella.”
“Oh, very well,” she said irritably. She straightened and withdrew her hand, surprised he let her go. “You may call me Sidonie.”
Why
