He gave the slightest shake of his head. “What do you offer then?”
“A short affair.” That sounded sensible.
“How short? Are we talking about a month, a year, or what?”
She forced herself not to fiddle with her hands. “A week.” Even more sensible. But she was overestimating herself. Her body for a week might not be so valuable to him.
“A week.” He folded his arms over his chest. “And what are we going to do during that week exactly?”
Did she really have to spell everything out for him?
She waved a hand. “It’s clear, I suppose.”
“No, it isn’t. I have no idea what you have in mind. What am I allowed to do? What am Inotallowed to do?”
“Well…” She searched around for inspiration, but the rural painting on the wall and the cherubs on the ceiling didn’t offer much.
“Be specific.”
Curse him. She needed to sit down. Her legs were quivering.
He sat in front of her on the armchair, his elbows on his knees and his intense stare completely focused on her. He didn’t look less intimidating because he was sitting, and now she understood how a gazelle had to feel in front of a hungry lion.
She cleared her throat. “We can sleep together during that week.”
“Every night and day of the week?” His voice lowered, and she didn’t find it unpleasant.
“Yes,” she said. “I mean, seven days.”
“Seven days, not necessarily in a row.”
“Yes.”
“Seven days of us in bed together.”
Said like that, it sounded rather improper, because it was. But in for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes.”
“What can we do in bed?” His tone was challenging now. “Can I have you anytime I wish?”
She shifted, not sure what to say. “I don’t have a lot of experience, so answering this question can be difficult.”
She knewsomething. Things she’d learnt from books, friends, and horses, but she’d never tried anything.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t want to do this. It’s obvious. You’re only desperate.”
“I may be desperate, but I am offering you a deal. Take it or leave it.” She wouldn’t be treated like a child. She was a woman capable of making her own choices, even though she had a vague idea of what those choices implied.
He studied her, drumming his long fingers on the armrests. She wondered if he had the same warrior-like expression whenever he negotiated a deal.
He stretched out his hand. “We have a deal.”
“You stop bothering my father right now, and I’ll be your mistress for a week, and we’ll do things I’m comfortable with,” she said, not taking his hand.
“No, the deal was that we slept together for seven days.”
She didn’t see the difference. “Yes.” She stretched out her hand, but it was his turn not to shake it.
“And if we do only things you are comfortable with, we’ll hold hands all the time and nothing else.”
