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“I doubt it will, since we’re not likely to be anywhere near each other when we sleep,” she snapped. And then belatedly remembered her strategy. It was with huge reluctance that she plastered a smile on her face. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about marrying me. ”
She had the unpleasant suspicion that he could see right through her, but he replied in a civil enough manner. “Which would you prefer, my precious? Living in sin or holy matrimony?”
She knew perfectly well he’d go with the opposite of whatever she picked. She’d already survived one clandestine elopement against her will. A second one could hardly make things worse.
“I think above all things I should love to be married,” she said in a nauseatingly breathless voice. “I do realize we can’t have a large wedding—most likely only the two of us at the local church—but every girl dreams about being married. Besides, that would make me a countess, and think how lovely that would be!” She smiled brightly.
He looked at her for a long moment. “Marriage it is,” he said, and then he laughed. “Don’t look so crestfallen, dear Miranda. We’ll have our small private marriage ceremony, but then I promise you a full-blown wedding with lots of guests. ”
“Really?” she said doubtfully.
“Trust me,” he said in a charming voice.
“Now move over. And don’t annoy me with any more lies about your menses. Yes, I’m in awe of the lengths you’re willing to go to manipulate me. ”
Miranda stayed exactly where she was. “Why? Don’t you want to wait for our wedding night?”
“Perhaps. At this point I don’t know if I want more than a taste. Just to make certain I’m still interested. ”
“And how will you discover that?”
“It will depend on how much I want to continue what I’m doing. Whether your responses bore or inspire me. Mind you, I’m perfectly capable of handling the business whether I find you attractive or not, and I will do so. I’m just curious to see whether you’re still as attracted to me as you were initially. ”
She couldn’t help her derisive snort of laughter. “La, sir, you do think highly of yourself. Why would you presume I’d be attracted to you?”
“You mean because I’m scarred and lame?” he asked mildly, entirely at ease.
Color flooded her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think of that. I don’t really notice it. ”
His face was unreadable. “That’s quite touching, my angel. If I were a foolish man I’d believe you. ”
She managed to regain her composure. “And you are certainly not a foolish man,” she said, hoping the color would fade from her cheeks. “What exactly did you want? Another kiss?”
“No, my love,” he said easily. “I want to get between your legs. ” And he reached out and began to pull the covers down.
17
Lucien de Malheur was amused. Lady Miranda Rohan was looking at him as if he had suggested he was going to sprout wings and fly. Did she seriously think he was going to leave her alone in her chaste, albeit not virginal bed? He wondered if she’d grow angry or burst into tears.
Instead, to his momentary discomfort, she let out a trill of laughter. “Oh, heavens, my lord, you had me worried for a moment. Of course you aren’t serious. ” She’d grabbed for the covers and was trying to yank them back up over her, but he was a great deal stronger and had no intention of letting her pull them up.
“Of course I am, dear lady. Are you cold? Perhaps I should build up the fire?”
“W-w-why?” she said, stammering only slightly.
“Because you aren’t going to have anything covering you. Except me. ”
She gulped. And somehow managed to reach inside herself and pull out that flas
hing smile of hers. “You’re extremely saucy, my lord. I don’t think so. ”
He’d moved away from her. His leg was giving him trouble, but he didn’t bother to disguise it. He was still bothered by her artless statement. She’d meant it. She didn’t see his scars or lameness. In fact, she was embarrassed that she hadn’t been more aware. When she looked at him she saw him, not his scars, and that was rare and oddly disturbing. He felt as if he’d been thrown off balance.
It was a shock, when he was so used to keeping to the shadows. He was acutely aware of his own dragging walk whenever his leg pained him too much. And he’d never been fond of mirrors. He didn’t like to be reminded of the claw marks on his skin, those permanent memories of a barbed whip brandished by a madwoman. His back was worse, a horror. Even Jacob Donnelly had been shocked the first time he’d seen it, and Jacob knew nightmares beyond measure.
Lucien rose from the bed to put wood on the fire, watching her out of the corner of one eye to make certain she didn’t try to run. There were hardly enough servants to keep this place going, and he was more than capable of loading a fire himself. Mrs. Humber had already complained that his future bride was insisting she hire more servants, and she maintained there weren’t any available, but he knew she lied. Most women lied, including the one in bed watching him with warm brown eyes.
“Why don’t you start by taking off that oh so fetching nightgown, my pet?” he murmured, moving back toward her. “After all, why should there be any secrets between us? We’re to be man and wife, after all. You’re getting a title and a considerably advantageous marriage, given that you managed to ruin yourself. I may as well see what I’m getting out of the bargain. ”
