“I won’t,” she said quickly—too quickly. She came off as impulsive, as if she hadn’t truly considered his question, which wasn’t true. He shook his head.
Willow said, “I have known for years—since I was a girl—that I would never marry. Truly, I had never thought of building any other life than single and unattached. It was only when I needed to get to London—when all three of us needed to go—that I considered marriage. And then, only if it could be constructed as another version of living life alone.”
“But you may not always wish to be alone.”
“And what about you?” she shot back. “Each of your questions may be asked of you also, my lord.”
“My need to provide for my family and my estate is greater than any need to attach myself to a wife.”
“Yes, well, I’ve a greater need, too, and that is to assign some purpose to my existence. Believe me when I say that a move to London, with the purpose of legitimate employment, in an actual studio, designing beautiful new homes will haveno effecton my unwanted and nonexistent romantic pursuits. Quite the contrary. The only effect it will have is to strengthen the devotion to my craft. It cannot be said enough.”
***
Cassin wondered if there was some acute malfunction with his brain and body. The mutinous attraction he felt each time he was within three feet of this woman could not be medically sound. Or sane. It should not persist and grow, and yet—
He wanted to respondyesto nearly everything she said—even if he disagreed with her. It was a new struggle, never before triggered by any female or any speech. But Lady Willow talked more than any woman he’d known, with good sense and vivid language, and that voice. That low, crackly, sex-conjuring voice that reminded him of the sleep-deprived rasp heard in the late hours of the night.
His sisters were chatty and accomplished, although their chatter veered dangerously close to the inane, and their accomplishments were limited mostly to the pianoforte or arranging flowers.
Cassin could not, in fact, remember any woman making quite as much sense as Lady Willow, despite the outrageousness of half of anything she said. She got to the heart of the matter, sharing only what was necessary to convince him or defend herself. She looked him directly in the eye. She did not fidget.
In the end, it mattered less what she said because his brain shut down, his body took over, and he was left to simply, happily, listen. All the while he fought the compulsion to—and this was the most alarming bit—reach out and touch her.
He held her gaze as long as he could, one skeptical eyebrow raised (he might have been losing his mind, but he did have his pride), but then he gave in to the inevitable and slid his gaze to her mouth. She noticed because her breath caught. For half a beat, their eyes locked. His heart was an accelerated thud in his ears and throat. And then, damn her, she swiped her wet pink tongue across her bottom lip.
“I’ve something I need to know,” he heard himself say. His eyes fixed on the lip where her tongue had been. She swiped it again, and he swallowed hard. “As designed, will this ‘arrangement’ include making love as husband and wife?”
Now her tongue froze, a tiny pink triangle on her bottom lip. It disappeared into her mouth. “I beg your pardon?”
“Yesterday, we shared a kiss—two kisses. And, I should warn you, we’re about to share another. Kissing is well and good—for now. But it begs the question, as your husband, will I take you to my bed?”
Cassin had come to Leland with two lists. One list contained the things he needed to know, and another list held the things he wanted to know. Dates for the supposed marriage, the location of her aunt’s house in London, the name of her family’s lawyer. At the very bottom of the second list, beforeWill you bring a vehicle into the marriage?andHave you taken the smallpox vaccine?wasthisquestion, the sex question, a topic he’d assumed they wouldn’t have time to discuss.
Instead, he’d damn near led with it.
She licked her bottom lip again, presumably just for the cruelty of it, and said, “I . . . well, honestly . . . ” She was suddenly less articulate, and damn if he did not find her discomposure just as alluring.
She went on, “We haven’t . . . that is, I had not fully conceived of this as part of the arrangement. I thought I might gauge how . . .necessarythe prospective husband seemed to feel about it after . . . after we’d become man and wife.”
He squinted, trying to comprehend a world where the necessity for sex with her would be anything less than extreme. The struggle must have shown, because she laughed a little—a light, teasing sound—and she touched three fingers to her lips.
“Forgive me,” she whispered, “I cannot believe we’ve circled back to this.”
Cassin took a step closer. “Yes. And if you find that even the least bit remarkable, you’re more naive than I think. Whether you conceived of it or not, the attraction between us is undeniable, Willow.”
“I did not plan one way or the other,” she said softly, her eyes growing huge. “How could I? I could not begin to conceive of a man like you.”
Cassin’s control snapped. He reached out, wrapped both hands around her waist, and pulled her to him.
She let out a little gasp.
“Conceive of it,” he rasped. “And let me assure you”—he spoke low in her ear—“I will find it absolutely necessary.” He gathered his strength and lifted her off the ground. He kicked the door to the workshop closed with the heel of his boot and strode the three steps to the workshop bench, where he plunked her down.
“Oh,” she said, scrambling for a hold on his shoulders. And now they were eye to eye, nose to nose. His lips were inches from hers. Her laughter died, and the only sound was their mingled breathing, fast and shallow.
She surprised him by moving first, reaching beneath his coat, feeling her way around his body. She grabbed hold of his waistcoat, leveraging closer, and he sucked in a breath. His coat felt suddenly heavy and superfluous and bloodyin the way, and he shrugged it off. He edged closer, nudging her legs right and left until his thighs hit the edge of the workbench ledge. The skirts of her dress were pulled taut across her lap, her knees on either side of his hips. All the while, her eyes never left his; she made breathy, intermittent noises—part shock, part excitement. He growled and came down fast, smothering her mouth with a kiss. She received him, meeting his lips, dropping her head. Her auburn curls brushed the backs of his hands. He scooped up a loose handful, tangling his fingers until he cradled her head in his palm.
She made a small, desperate sound and felt her way from his waist to his chest, sweeping her hands around his neck.
