“Because they’re children in need,” she said desperately.
“So are dozens of others. Yet they are my children who make you smile and my household that you’re reluctant to leave.” His free hand came up to trace the curve of her jaw with maddening gentleness. “My proximity that makes you tremble.”
“I don’t—” But the protest died on her lips as his thumb brushed across her lower lip.
“Liar,” he whispered, and the single word was both accusation and caress.
This is exactly what I was afraid of. He’s seducing me just like?—
“If I were to accept your proposal,” she said quickly before she could lose her nerve entirely, “it would be purely for the children. A marriage in name only.”
Something shifted in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or challenge.
“Would it?” His voice was silky, dangerous. “Because your eyes say otherwise.”
“My eyes are irrelevant.”
“Are they?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Then why do you look so nervous?”
Because you’re too close, and you smell too good.
“Physical responses mean nothing,” she said though her voice came out breathless and unconvincing.
“They mean everything.” His lips brushed the shell of her ear, sending fire racing down her spine. “They are honest when words can lie so easily.”
She pressed her palms against his chest, intending to push him away, but she found herself simply standing there, absorbing the solid warmth of him through his waistcoat.
“The orphanage,” she said desperately, grasping for safe ground. “If I agreed—which I haven’t—I would need guarantees. Proper facilities, medical supplies, educational materials.”
“Done.” He pulled back just enough to look at her face, his amber eyes serious now. “Whatever you need.”
“A garden for growing food and herbs.”
“Of course.”
“Access to your library. All of it, including books society deem inappropriate for ladies.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I wouldn’t dream of censoring your reading habits.”
“And no interference in how I run things. Complete autonomy over the orphans’ care and education.”
“Agreed.” His hands framed her face now, his thumb stroking across her cheekbone with devastating tenderness. “What else?”
None of this. No touches that make me forget my own name. No looking at me like you want to devour me whole.
But she couldn’t say any of that. Not when his nearness was scrambling her thoughts.
“There must be boundaries,” she said instead, her voice barely above a whisper.
“What kind of boundaries?”
“Between us. Personal boundaries. We can’t… that is, you can’t?—”
“Can’t what, Sybil?” The use of her given name without her title was shockingly intimate. “Can’t notice that you’re the most fascinating woman I’ve met in years? Can’t appreciate that you challenge me at every turn?”
Stop making it sound romantic. Stop making me believe this could be real.
“You’re trying to manipulate me,” she accused though her voice lacked conviction.
