Her mouth dropped. “W-what? Are you… are youmad?”
“Possibly,” William grinned.
The air crackled with the intensity of his stare. He cupped her cheeks between his large hands, bent his head, and slanted his mouth over hers.
Her mouth was open as his lips landed on her. He pressed his advantage to steak soft kisses but the gentle mood vanished when he threaded his finger through the soft hairs in the back of her head, tilted her jaw, and ravished her mouth with exquisite thoroughness.
He relished her dainty and limber frame, how easily he could wrench her up and down his manhood, holding her aloft with the thrusts of his hardness.
Her hands speared into his hair, and she pressed her mouth to his, kissing and kissing him as she took him deep inside. He drove in deeper still, yearning to be as close in body as he could.
William’s fingers steadily removed the pins from her coiffure, tumbling her hair to her shoulders, allowing it to fall to her mid-back.
“Your hair is like a curtain of waterfall,” he murmured against her mouth. “Beautiful.”
Lashes fluttering, Bridget stared at him, and slowly the haze over her eyes faded and panic suffused her face. Bracing her hands on his chest, she pushed him away—but he did not budge. “You are mad.”
“You have not answered my question,” William replied, knowing she was right. Where had that offer come from?
Her face reddened like a copper pot on fire. “Lord knows why you want to marry me. We have nothing in common. You are a Duke, and I’m a country Miss—”
“You can learn to be a Duchess.”
“You’re a rakehell and your reputation is in the mud,” she said, hands balling into fists. “I have no interest in being married to a man who will eventually get bored of me and look elsewhere. Besides, I have dreams of my own, a purpose to fulfill—”
“I can help with anything you want,” William replied.
Her breath left her in a loud stream. “Why do you want to marry me? You... you don’t love me. You don’t even know me.”
“No, I don’t,” he said neutrally.
“Then what do you want?” Frustration was tearing at her words.
“Simply put,you,” he replied.
She forced the words out of her tight throat. “You are proposing a marriage of convenience?”
“Yes.”
Swallowing, she admitted, “I have no dowry.”
“I do not need one,” William finally pushed away. “When I marry, my uncle will release the bulk of my fortune he is holding in trust. You shall have more than you ever bargained for.”
“You seek to marry me so you can gain a fortune and have me as an ornament on your arm, while I would be free to do as I please?” Bridget’s tone was stiff, her posture unyielding.
“Well. Thereissomething you are overlooking.” His voice lowered to a seductive timbre. Stepping away, he sunk back to his seat and took his cup again, eyes dark and seductive as heswirled his drink. “Given our attraction to one another, I dare say we shall have enjoyable bedsport.”
Like a kettle bursting its top, she went vivid red. “That’senough. You bounder! I—I will never— l-let me go!”
He looked up, lip curling. “Sweetheart, there is nothing holding you here.”
Bridget’s eyes shot to the doorway in shock, then she spun and ran.
“Dearest,” Eleanor murmured, her brows dipping as Bridget tugged her coat on and fixed her hat—all without looking once to her friend. “Are you sure you are all right?”
“P-perfectly fine.” This time, Bridgetdidlook up— but it was more of a flicker than a true look—before she resumed fidgeting with her coat. “Why do you ask?”
“Because you have avoided looking at me, and I know you are nervous when you start stuttering,” Ellie replied. “Did something happen while I was away? Are you feeling unwell?”
