Argyll narrowed his eyes. “You cannot commit to providing me an heir and a spare?”
“I’m destined to die, Your Grace.” Her surprisingly broad shoulders lifted in a matter-of-fact shrug. “I am cursed.”
Ah, the Cursed Kearsleys. The bizarre lot would better be referred to as the Crazy Kearsleys. “Yes, well, something tells me if you marry me, you’re doomed to live forever, stuck in a misery of your own making.”
She inclined her head. “Will you be a cruel husband? Beat me?” For the first time, she sounded worried. This flash of uncertainty righted tables that’d been tilted since the first meeting between them.
If he’d been a true gentleman, her query would have offended.
Argyll favored her with a patronizing smile. “Madam, I’d have to be capable of an emotion other than lust or boredom to do something as trite as beat my wife.”
Another tiny frown pulled that telling place between her arched eyebrows.
“You disapprove of my bluntness, little raven,” he noted.
“I regret you are so jaded as to speak casually about a woman being so hurt by her husband.”
“Regretful enough to abandon your mad call for marriage?” he asked, amused.
She shook her head. “Alas, I have to marry you for that reason.”
At last, he had a reason. Argyll zeroed his gaze on her face. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“I am going to die, Gregory, and it will devastate my family. The only solace they’ll find is that I’m no longer married to you.”
Argyll opened his mouth and closed it, several times. This is why she’d marry him? He expected he should be offended some. “Let me get this straight. You want to marry me because you believe I’ll make you miserable.”
Miss Kearsley nodded without hesitation.
Well, it was confirmed. She was touched in the head.
And he must be too, for he found himself actually…contemplating the arrangement.
“Well, Daria,” he said impatiently, “out with it already. What else do you want?”
“I will retain my dowry.” Her tone marked that detail as non-negotiable.
How adorable. She believed he had a need or want of anything she came with? What would she think if she knew the wealth at her fingertips were they to marry?
Daria dipped her gaze to her lap. She worried the gauzy fabric of her skirts with long fingernails.
Argyll locked a hot stare on her graceful hands—long, delicate fingers, and long nails that conjured a visceral image. Daria Kearsley under him, scraping those nails along his back, leaving her mark while she begged—
Daria glanced up.
He’d already schooled his features. He’d never be so gauche as to becaughtlusting after a woman.
“If we do have children—”
“Before you die, yes, yes.” He quirked a mocking grin.
“I would like my family to be a daily part of their life.”
“I’ll take a wife and end up with seven bothersome women?” Argyll snorted. “You’re a terrible negotiator, Miss Kearsley.” So why did he continue this back and forth?
Daria lifted her palms. “They will not interfere in your life. You will be free to continue your carousing and club business. They will just ensure they’ll be looked after and loved.”
Thatdidn’t sound terrible. Hmm. “And all of this is irrelevant, as you’ll live forever.”
