“And what do you get?” Harry cocked his head. “Aside from not having to suffer Dufton.”
“Protection. Peace.Safety. I am an ancient spinster with a valuable piece of property attached to her skirts. Prey for every fortune hunter in England when the truth of Marsden comes out—and it will. I am not brave.”
“I disagree.”
It had taken a great deal of courage for her to face him, considering all the things Waterstone had done to Harry. What a pleasant surprise to find that inside delicate Lucy Waterstone was this intelligent,angrywoman. Made her far more interesting.
But he still didn’t trust her.
“Think how well you’ll be received with a well-bred wife on your arm.” Her voice wavered. “Or hosting a dinner party. If nothing else, I am a lady. I can help you. A marriage of convenience.” Color rose in her cheeks. “Consider our union a business partnership. Nothing more.”
“No.” If Lucy thought she could be his wife in name only, avoid the unpleasantness of sharing a bed with a blacksmith’s son, she was mistaken. “Don’t be such a snob.”
“I am not athnob.”
Lisping again. She was likely afraid. Upset. He had the urge to comfort her and resisted it.
“I have terms of my own,Lucy, if we are to wed.”
Harry had wanted her for years, though he hated to admit it. Every woman he’d touched since their first introduction had resembled her, as unsettling as that realization happened to be. Her rejection of him at the house party, done so publicly, had leftHarry angry and humiliated, and the humiliation had followed him to London. Waterstone had taken Pendergast because of her.
He wanted Marsden.
But Harry wanted Lucy even more.
10
Well, she’d shown her hand.
Estwood couldn’t possibly appreciate the difficulty of this entire conversation. He had no idea what it was to exist under another’s control. Or live beneath another’s threats. Lucy wanted to scream that she hadn’t been allowed dessert in years because Father only allowed her to eat what he thought appropriate. The absolute mortification of—having to go to Estwood, when he hated her so much and she?—
“IwantMarsden,” he growled.
Not Lucy. No one would ever want her.
Even so, a sigh left her, body arching ever so slightly in his direction. The warmth of his forefinger trailed along the side of Lucy’s neck, lingering over her beating pulse. Then his palm, hand stretching, thumb rubbing back and forth in a soothing manner over her skin, before his fingers tightened abruptly on her throat.
Lucy let out a soft gasp.
“Your loyalty will be to me. Not Gerald Waterstone. I’ll make him a good offer for Pendergast despite his deceit, and far more than he deserves. Butnothingelse. His cries of poverty will fallon deaf ears. I hope he is forced to sell his horse farm. I want to see him impoverished.” His breath crested over the curve of her ear. “If Ieverfind out you’ve gone behind my back. If you give him money or betray me to him, you will wish you had not. Do you agree?”
“I do,” she stuttered.
“Louder.My second stipulation. You will speak in a manner and tone that I, as well as others, can hear. No more of this whispering nonsense. No one cares that you sometimes have a small lisp. I don’t want you breathless unless you are beneath me.” The fingers pressed a shade tighter. “Which brings me to my last and final point concerning any future marriage.”
Lucy swallowed, not afraid, exactly. Not with her skin humming beneath his fingers or the sudden ache taking up residence between her thighs.
“You’ll share my bed. Often.”
She sucked in a breath. Her nipples tightened painfully at the words, something that had never,everhappened before. The fingers squeezed tighter, just enough to make her whimper. The ache between her thighs intensified. She had the urge to press her naked skin into Estwood’s heat?—
“Answer, Lucy. I require your agreement.”
She nodded.Goodness. She’d agree to anything at the moment.
Difficult to tell whether Estwood was pleased or not by her answer. He had always been difficult to read. A master at shuttering his thoughts behind a pleasant façade, hiding his true self amongst those who considered themselves his betters. His hold on her neck should have been terrifying, but all she felt was the constant hum along her skin where he touched her.
“Speak.” The brush of his lips ghosted over her own. “Loudly.”
