No, she wasn’t. She was far from sure. She couldn’t fit a lover into her life. She’d never had one before, so why should she not continue as she’d begun?
Her mind reeled, until she forced it back under control. “Perfectly sure.” Straightening, she located her hat, which had tumbled on to the desk, and plonked it back on her head. A curl tumbled down and with a most unladylike curse, she removed the hat and dropped it back on to the desk. The surface was covered with papers and cards, which scattered in all directions. “I’m afraid I made rather a mess—”
With a harsh laugh, he scrubbed a hand around the back of his neck, where she’d so recently touched. “It was worse before you started.”
Looking around, she found a mirror, a small, gilt-framed one on the wall by the largest bookshelf. Tilting her chin up she strode to it. Unfastening the strings of her cap, she dropped it on a nearby table. Then she plucked out a pin from her hair, using it to secure the curl. “Not perfect, but with my hat on nobody will notice.”
Silence from behind her. Turning around, she faced him, meeting his gaze. His eyes met hers, stark and honest. “How long is your hair?”
She gave a shaky laugh. “Too long. I should have it cut.”
“No, don’t do that.”
His response was so swift and vehemently expressed that it made her blink. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Th-thank you. I think.” Her hair was somewhat—red. She’d tried to control it, and wore larger caps to cover most of it, but it sometimes shone through nevertheless.
“You should never powder.”
Had they gone this far? To exchange remarks so personal? They had missed out some important elements of acquaintanceship. “I can assure you sir, I rarely powder my hair.”
She shook his head, an expression of rueful sorrow curling his lips. “Madam, I’m sorry. You should not be so indescribably attractive.”
“Nobody has called me that before.” Her heartbeat quickened, then stilled back into its regular, steady rhythm. “I hate to call a lord a liar, though. Perhaps I should settle for outrageous flattery.” This time she kept her distance, at least two feet from him. Her heart was still throbbing double-time.
“You are lovely, you must know that,” he said bluntly.
She wanted to drag her hair back until it was completely hidden. “No.”
“Then the people around you are blind.” He leaned against the wall, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Madam, I have a proposition for you.”
She busied herself tying her cap strings. “Sir, if this is of an immoral nature, I cannot listen to you.”
“Are you about to pretend our kiss was one-sided? That I took and you gave? Because from where I was standing, you took an active part. As I said, I will not apologize for something I took great pleasure in. You did not scream, or object. So let us not have any nonsense about morality, if you please.”
Nobody had spoken to her in that way before. How dared he?
How dared he what? Tell the truth?
Because he was right. However ungenerous or impolite, he was right. For that moment she’d accepted him and rejected everything else. She had no doubt she could never agree to his proposal, and she would not be surprised if he suggested something completely outrageous.
She would do him the courtesy of listening. Then she would leave, but she did not wish to slam this door completely. If she could not secure at least a hint of his willingness to lease her the property, then she would conclude this unsettling incident. Although she feared she would think of it when lying in her lonely bed tonight. His hands on her, his mouth on hers...
She shocked herself back to reality by digging her nails into her palm. How could she think of that? Perhaps later, when she was in a safe place. But not here, not now.
Lifting her chin, she invited him to speak.
He straightened up, took his hands out of his pockets, and faced her. “I’ll lease you the house at half the price you suggest. There is one condition.”
She gasped. That price was her starting point for negotiation. She’d fully expected to spend at least twenty percent more than that. She was willing to go up to forty percent more. “What is your condition?”
“You and me sharing a bed, naked, for a night.”
She couldn’t be hearing this. “What?”
“A kiss is not enough. It just made me hungry for more. One night,” he said bluntly. “I fear I will not stop thinking about you until that happens, ma’am. You have me, shall we say, by the balls, and they will be turning blue before much longer.”
She should walk out, she should be shaking with rage. But she was not, and she was too honest to feign it.
Instead, she carefully kept her face clear of expression and linked her hands, tilting her head to one side as if he had said something witty and she was considering it. “I can only imagine that you are jesting, sir. Will you consider my fair offer?”
CHAPTER THREE