When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,7
for just a second on the bulge in the placket of his black breeches, and then perused his long legs and booted feet. When she met his eyes again she wore a doubtful moue. “Perhaps. But can you give me what I want, Mr. Hawthorne?”
The corners of his devilish lips curled. “Ask me and see.”
“Very well.” She leaned back in her chair, mirroring his relaxed pose. Best to start small. “I want Lucretia to live with me.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Done. She’ll live with us.”
She swallowed, attempting to ignore the emphasis on the last word. “I want my pin money returned to me.”
“Naturally,” he drawled. “Though you’ll need to wait until after we wed.”
Her pin money wasn’t enough to get her to safety anyway.
She lifted her chin, her pulse beating fast. She mustn’t let him know how close to terror she was. How much was riding on her gamble. “I don’t wish to couple with you.”
“You hurt me.” He placed his hand on his chest as if in jest, but his smile was hard. “I’m afraid you cannot remain untouched. I’ll have no reason for you or any one of your family to try for an annulment. And besides”—he tilted his head mockingly—“I do want to fuck you.”
The coarse word sent a visceral shock through her, making her imagine him naked. Hawthorne would be sleek, muscled, and dangerous, and she had no doubt at all that he knew how to make a woman moan. Her nipples peaked.
None of which was to the point.
She cast her eyes down as if disappointed. “We’ve come to an impasse then, haven’t we?”
“I don’t think so.” He stared at her a minute, slowly tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. “I find that I’m willing to bend—for you.”
For her. Something flickered inside her chest at the words, even though she knew he was pretending sentiment.
She needed to concentrate on the matter at hand. She was backed into a corner, made to realize that she was going to be married against her will, and to him of all people.
To a rogue.
She raised her brows as if the entire discussion bored her. “Go on. How shall you bend?”
His smile this time was almost genuine. “I’ll give you some small time before I bed you—say a week after we wed?”
“Three months,” she snapped, clenching her hands to hide her trembling fingers. She couldn’t believe they were debating when she would let him…
“A month,” he drawled, his black eyes staring at her wickedly as he took another sip of his wine.
His throat worked as he swallowed, and she dragged her gaze to his face instead. “Two months.”
He shook his head. “I won’t wait that long. One month.”
God. She’d woken this morning with her only worry a possible argument with her insane uncle, and now she was bargaining away her maidenhead.
She took a deep breath. If she had to do this, she’d best make it worth her while. “Very well. One month. But in return I want something from you.”
He lifted his eyebrows in query.
“A portion of my dowry.”
He nodded. “I’ll give you a sum each quarter as pin money.”
“No,” she said, and this time her voice shook, but it was hardly from fear. She was angry. “It’s my money. Money my father left me. Once we marry you’ll have a fortune, and I’ll not be content any longer with a pittance doled out at your whim. I want half.”
One of his eyebrows rose. “You value your virginity very highly.”
“Should I not?” she shot back. “It’s what the men around me value. Should I turn shy maiden and ignore that money is what all this is really about? Pretend I don’t know exactly how much I’m worth?”
“Maybe not.” He pursed his lips. She would not look. “A tenth. At the end of a year of marriage.”
She couldn’t wait that long. “A quarter on the day of our wedding.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You expect me to pay you before I receive my prize?”
She just refrained from snorting. “My dowry is your prize.”
“Is it?” His eyes lingered on her mouth before meeting hers. “One-tenth in six months.”
“One-tenth in a month.” She let the disdain show on her face. “On the day after our marriage is consummated.”
“Agreed.” He eyed her contemplatively, then sat forward with a businesslike air. “This will be a real marriage. You will be true to me—I won’t abide you taking a lover.”
The point was moot. Once she had her dowry portion she had no intention of remaining with