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"Any more terms you wish to discuss?"

"Yes." He took a towel from the shelf and dried his hands. "The moment we confirm you are with child, you return to our country estate."

"We will not know whether it is a boy or a girl," she said, her voice small.

"No, but that would not matter until it is born. If it is a girl, we try again in a few months until we get the desired result."

"And once we get the boy?"

"You raise the child or children at Sutton Hall, and you never return to London again. We live our lives entirely apart."

"That is..." She cleared her throat. "Your terms are acceptable."

"Do you have terms of your own?"

Temperance's eyes drifted down his bare torso. Oddly, the shiver on his skin followed her gaze and settled at his center.

God, he was hard again. How easily she undid him.

His breath hitched. His gaze dropped to the thin, loose fabric covering her body. Her nipples pressed against the cotton as if demanding release from their prison.

"I cannot think of any right now. Surely we can renegotiate if I come up with some?"

"We can discuss them, yes, as long as they do not clash with mine."

"Understood." Temperance nodded. She stood in the doorway, wringing her hands, her voice tentative. "You probably want to heal first?"

He needed to heal.

He was tired. He was slightly drunk. He had been attacked, and he had a gash in his side that she had just stitched.

"Probably."

His gaze traveled down her body once more, and the ache sharpened.

She did not sound enthusiastic. The last thing he wanted was to force himself on an unwilling woman. Though she had proposed the arrangement, it was clear she would rather not go through with it.

He expected her to bolt once again.

He had just given her an out. She could turn and run back to her room and lock the door.

She stayed where she was. "Does it hurt very much?"

"Not really," he lied.

It hurt. But it was manageable.

And the ache lower down was worse.

I am letting my cock dictate my actions, which is never a good idea.

"So... you can move comfortably," she said.

Her gaze dropped to his torso again, and this time he could not tell whether she was admiring him or assessing the injury. He hoped it was the former.

"More or less." He twisted this way and that, holding back a flinch. "Are you proposing we start tonight?"

"No!" she said quickly. Too quickly. A nervous laugh followed. "I am only trying to judge how long it will take you to heal."