Blame It on Bath Page 0,25

forethought. That boded well. Gerard didn’t like women who were led by impulse, swinging from whim to whim as their humors changed. At least a reasonable woman could be dealt with rationally. If anything, she’d seemed too cool and logical so far, almost bloodless in her approach; but he sensed there was temper and spirit inside her. He was probably a damned fool, but he found that hidden passion lurking beneath her drab, frosty exterior to be immensely tantalizing. If she’d been an empty-headed heiress, throwing herself at him with drama and tears, he doubted he would have been intrigued enough to entertain her proposal at all.

Katherine Howe, however, was giving every impression of wishing herself miles away right now. He edged deliberately closer, noting how she tensed up at his approach.

“Are you frightened of me?” he asked softly.

The pulse throbbed frantically under her skin, but her voice was even. “Not at all.”

One corner of Gerard’s mouth lifted. This woman had bottom. “Then look at me.”

She inhaled deeply and lifted her eyes to meet his. They weren’t black, he realized, but deep, deep blue.

“If you marry me,” he said quietly, “I expect you to be my wife in every way. I expect your loyalty to be unwavering—question my actions in private if you will, but never turn on me in public. You are already aware of the potential problem in my family, with my inheritance, and if it ends badly, I never want to hear a remonstrance about our lost social standing or anything related to it. Do you agree to this?”

Her eyes narrowed. She gave a barely perceptible jerk of her chin, yes.

Gerard tilted his head in acknowledgment. “In return, I will regard you above other women and protect you with my life. I will expect to dine with you regularly, take you to the theater or other amusements when it pleases us, share your bed at least some nights. I will consider your thoughts and opinions on our shared life and be as decent and honorable a husband as I can be. I don’t expect us to share a deep love, but I would like affection, if possible, and most certainly respect.”

“Will you keep a mistress?” she asked.

“I don’t have one now, but if we find we don’t suit in bed, I certainly wouldn’t deny us both the freedom to find pleasure elsewhere.” He waited, but she said nothing, just stared at him with dark, shadowed eyes. She was so grave and somber, despite the flush in her cheeks and the pounding pulse at the base of her throat. Again the devil inside him itched to make her laugh, or lose her temper, or scream in passion. “Do you still agree?” he prompted her.

For a moment she didn’t move or speak. “If that is your way of accepting my proposal,” she said, “then I agree.”

He grinned in spite of himself. “Then I, Lady Howe, do gladly consent to become your husband.” He cupped one hand behind her neck and kissed her.

Katherine’s knees went weak with relief when she realized he was going to agree, and it put her at a significant disadvantage when he unexpectedly laced his long fingers around the nape of her neck and pressed his mouth to hers. She swayed and almost fell, but his free arm went around her, pulling her up onto her toes and flush against him. She grappled for balance, closing her hands on his upper arms. His biceps flexed under her grip, he adjusted his hold on her, and somehow her body fit smoothly into place against his. She dimly registered the size and strength of him, but by far the greater portion of her thoughts was completely scattered away by his kiss.

It was gentle but somehow compelling. Despite the slight scratch of stubble his lips were soft and smooth. They moved lightly over hers, teasing, tugging, exploring. Katherine was shocked; she’d been kissed before, but usually on the cheek or a quick, impersonal press of her husband’s mouth against hers. It never lasted this long, or felt this delicious. It was as disorienting as it was wonderful. For a moment she simply fell into the pleasure of being held this way by this man. Her tense fingers eased on his arms, and she let out a tiny sigh.

His hand shifted, sliding from the back of her neck to her jaw. His thumb stroked lightly under her chin, and she flinched in surprise. He angled his head more and traced