“You want to negotiate? Let’s do it.” He gave a cool nod. “Tell me what it will take to make you mine.”
***
Apparently three orgasms hadn’t convinced the obstinate chit that she belonged to him.
Nonetheless, Alaric admitted that Emma had a point: as a tactic, bullying had thus far proved ineffective with her. Clearly, he would have to employ a different stratagem to win her over. This fact filled him not with annoyance but anticipation: his duchess-to-be would challenge, provoke, and test him—she would, however, never bore him.
“You want to bargain with me? Over marriage?” Emma frowned.
It wasn’t for nothing that he’d garnered a fortune through his business dealings. He knew how to leverage his assets and exploit the opposition’s weaknesses to get what he wanted. Where warranted, he could adapt his strategy to achieve the desired outcome. Time to apply a similar mindset to dealing with his future duchess.
He capitalized on the element of surprise. “Aye. State your terms.”
“My terms?”
Her confusion reached some deep, frozen part of him... warming it. ’Twas as if she’d given no thought to how much she had to gain from marrying a duke. As if her desire was for him and not just what he could give her...
He ruthlessly cut off that train of thought. He would hold no illusions when it came to this marriage, nor would he allow Emma to do so. He’d been clear about love: there would be no false expectations on either side. As long as she didn’t expect more than he could give, they would rub along just fine.
Now all he had to do was secure her hand. It wouldn’t be difficult. He knew her Achilles’ heel, after all, and would use it to his advantage.
“For instance,” he said innocently, “you could barter for a generous monthly allowance, enough to purchase all the jewels and furs a lady could want.”
Her brow furrowed. “I don’t want jewels and furs.”
He knew that, of course. “Then perhaps you’d care for a carriage and yacht of your own, outfitted in the latest style to impress your friends?”
“My friends would not be impressed by such excessive frivolity,” she said scornfully.
“Ah.” He steepled his fingers. “Then perhaps there’s nothing I could offer to entice you to marry me after all... unless... wait a minute. No.” He shook his head. “You don’t needmyhelp with that.”
“With what?” Her eyes narrowed.
“With your plan. Your goal of being an investigator.”
“You would help me with that?” she said with clear skepticism. “When you’ve said time and again that it’s an unsuitable job for a woman?”
“For an ordinary woman. Now for aduchess,”—he paused for effect—“it is an altogether different story.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Because a duchess has the power and cache to do as she wishes. What is considered unacceptable behavior for an ordinary woman would be nothing more than a charming eccentricity in her grace. No one would dare gainsay you for fear of my reprisal.”
“And, hypothetically speaking, you would support your wife being engaged in detection work?” she said suspiciously.
In a manner of speaking. He’d come to the conclusion that it was a better option to let Emma dabble under his watch than to have her going at it pell-mell on her own. At least this way he would know what she was up to. He could keep a rein on her, keep her out of trouble.
“As long as you abide by the rules I set, I don’t see what harm it would do for you to have a hobby,” he conceded.
“Profession,” she corrected. “And what are these supposed rules of yours?”
He told himself to tread with caution.
“Your safety must come first, for one. Although you did uncover a useful piece of information today,” he said, noting how she instantly beamed with pleasure, “you also placed yourself at great risk. I’ll not tolerate such recklessness.”
Her smile faded. When she spoke, her words were surprisingly candid.
“You’re right. I did get rather carried away by events,” she said, her expression abashed. “For a moment back there, I feared I was in over my head.”
