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His admiration swelled. None of her earlier apprehension showed on her face. In fact, she looked like a woman on a mission.
He sat beside her and accepted her offering.
She slathered jam across a bun, placed the knife on the table, and then bit delicately into the treat. All so seamlessly. It made him realize how much she must have had to learn to do on her own.
She cocked her head to the side. “You are staring.”
He arched a brow. “Is that so?”
“Hmmm,” she murmured around another bite. “I can feel it. Your eyes have been spending an inordinate amount of time on my lips.”
He chuckled, and she smiled. He enjoyed her teasing.
The laugh died out of her eyes. “While I would prefer to indulge in light conversation, I believe we have more serious matters to discuss.” She curled her hands around her cup and shifted, staring at him. It was uncanny, her ability to look directly at the person without seeing them. “My father believes you have compromised me and demands we must wed.”
“Yes.” He wondered if now was the time to admit he had already met with the duke.
She nodded, then took a delicate sip of her tea. “I have tried to reassure him that nothing happened between us, only a chaste embrace, but it seems Quinton and grandmother have advised him otherwise.” The becoming blush climbing her face caused a tender ache to unfurl within him.
Quinton should have waited for Alasdair to approach the duke. Damn his interfering friend. Alasdair could only imagine how she must have been embarrassed.
She cleared her throat delicately. “I think we must band together and refuse their edict. I am three and twenty and not a child. I already possess inferior circumstances, and I doubt rumors of our…our…kisses will ruin me.”
“No,” he said quietly. Alasdair observed the wild jerk of her pulse at the base of her neck. He wanted to lean in and trace its delicate flutter with the tip of his tongue and breathe in her scent.
She stiffened, a frown marring her features. “No? I beg you not to be intimidated by my father and be pressured into—”
Alasdair’s low chuckle of amusement had her narrowing her eyes.
“No man can force me to move against my own heart and inclination,” he drawled. “I made my offer to your father not because he or Quinton pressured me, but because I wanted to.”
Her gasp echoed in the room.
“You want to marry me?” Disbelief was rife in her voice.
“Yes.”
She lowered her cup to the center table and shifted even closer to him. “I am not sure you understand, Alasdair. I am without a dowry.”
He wanted to gut her father for the embarrassment that coated her voice.
“You bring other treasures to me, Lady Willow, other than money or lands, treasures that are far more valuable.”
Shaking her head in obvious confusion, she stood, then sat back down as if in a daze. She tilted her head toward him. “I know you are impoverished. My grandmother is never wrong about such matters. And the rumor is that you were interested in the ladies displayed on the marriage mart. Since grandmother told me of your financial straits, I realized you must be seeking an heiress to replenish your coffers and to help your family.” She leaned forward and searched for his hands.
He met her halfway and pleasure coursed through him at their softness.
Her fingers tightened on his. “My father has promised to never provide a dowry for me to any man who is not wealthy in his own right. It is his way of protecting me from fortune hunting rakes. He will not bend his stance.”
“I am aware of this.”
Piercing green eyes ran over him as if she could see, and a curious smile slanted her lips. “Yet you wish to marry me?”
“Yes.”
“But why? I offer you nothing.”
The anger that surged through him was raw and wicked. He tugged her toward him, doing nothing to check his roughness. She tumbled into his chest with a soft
