Page 17 of Dangerous

Mia gestured to the chair across from her. “Please, sit.”

He ignored the available chairs, choosing to sit beside Mia on the small settee.

Oh, my.

Rebecca, who’d only just sat down, sprang to her feet again. “Oh . . . yes, er . . . quite. If you’ll excuse me, my lady, I was just about to get my basket,” she said, apparently unaware her basket was on the small table beside her chair. “I am in need of a particular color of silk. A shade of green,” she dithered, inching sideways toward the door, her eyes the size of billiard balls. She searched blindly behind her back with one hand for the door handle, as if she didn’t dare take her eyes from the marquess. She finally managed to open the door a crack and sidle through the opening.

Mia sighed. “She has not gone for embroidery silk, my lord. I would guess she’s gone in search of my brother.”

“Or perhaps the local constabulary,” he suggested drily.

Mia chuckled at this welcome sign of humor. “In any event, I suspect we do not have much time. If you have anything of a private nature to say, I suggest you do so now.”

He took her hand in both of his, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “I will follow your lead and speak frankly. Do you know of anything that would prevent you from conceiving a child? Also, notwithstanding my willingness to let you go your own way, I would require you to agree to my exclusive presence in your bed until you have provided me with an heir.”

Mia knew she should be offended by his questions, as if she were a broodmare he was considering purchasing. But she was not.

“I know of no problems with conception and I am prepared to accept your attentions in my bed, as regularly as you deem necessary. Nor will I lie with another.”

His jaw tightened slightly at her words. Such a mild reaction would have meant nothing in another man, but in Exley, a man who restrained his emotions like tightly leashed beasts, it was as good as a declaration of desire.

“Lady Euphemia, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She hesitated. “You would marry me without knowing anything of my past? Anything beyond my time in the ... convent?”

“I have asked the only questions I wish to ask. Have you any for me?”

Mia had none he was likely to answer. Besides, she’d taken care of the most important questions using the duke’s library. The Marquess of Exley’s seat was an ancient castle off the southern coast. Exham Castle was not far from Eastbourne, the same port where Mia had landed when she’d returned to England.

She’d found out very little about his prior wives. The first, Veronica Caton, had come from an impoverished family in the north, and the second, Lady Sarah Tewkes, was from an impoverished family in the south. Both were dead. Neither Cian nor Rebecca knew anything about either of Exley’s marriages other than vague gossip, although both had cautioned her repeatedly to stay away from the marquess.

Mia found the notion of such a cold man killing anyone in a fit of passion laughable. And he’d clearly married neither woman for financial gain. What did that leave? Was he some manner of deranged lunatic? Mia chewed her lip as she looked into his expressionless face. He certainly did not seem mad. It was a risk to marry him without searching deeper into his past, but she was out of time.

“Yes, I will marry you. I only ask that the ceremony take place soon.”

His lids dropped to half-mast. “As soon as you wish, my lady.” He leaned close and brushed his lips over hers. The heat in his eyes and the lightness of his touch made for a heady combination and her vision blurred, as though she’d consumed too much champagne. She inhaled deeply as he feathered kisses across her mouth. He smelled of soap, cologne, wool, coffee, horse, and the ineffable scent that made each human being unique.

Mia leaned into his kiss and he cupped her jaw with a cool, oddly calloused hand. She slid one hand up the smooth fabric of his coat, reaching out to steady herself with her other hand. She encountered a sculpted thigh rather than the settee and a low noise emanated from his throat at her touch. His hand snaked behind her neck, drawing her closer. Mia melted against him. His body was warm and hard and real beneath his fine clothing and he stroked her neck with strong, sensitive fingers.

His skilled tongue and firm touch were as different from the sultan’s moist, cloying kisses and clumsy groping as could be. It was a kiss that combined tenderness and strength; he was a man as intent on giving pleasure as taking it. His fingers brushed lightly up the side of her body, a phantom touch that tantalized and caressed before slipping back down to her waist. All the while, his deft tongue probed and explored, his mouth hot and insistent.

She looked up into eyes that were pale slits and his lips curved into a smile that was pure sensuality before he plunged deeply into her mouth.

Mia twined her body around his like a vine, drawing him closer while she savored his taste and texture. She slid her hand up past his cravat and into the surprisingly soft hair at the nape of his neck, moving from the taut cords of his neck to the hard lines of his jaw. His muscles lengthened and bunched beneath her fingers as he opened to explore her more deeply, as if he could not be inside her deeply enough.

The sitting room door flew open and banged against the wall.

Mia closed her eyes against the unwanted distraction and gripped the marquess’s neck tighter.

“Dammit, Exley, take your hands off my sister!”

Mia moaned with disappointment as the marquess removed his beautiful hands and mouth from her body. His lips were no longer cruel and thin but swollen and bruised, and his movements were satisfyingly languorous. Her entire body pulsed at the hungry, possessive glint in his eyes.

“Mia, come away from him this instant,” her brother ordered.

She wrenched her eyes from the object of her desire. Irritation became fury at the sight of her brother’s angry, righteous face and she glared at him through a haze of red. “You are not my keeper, Cian.”

The marquess laid a gentling hand on her shoulder and stood.