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“Correct,” he said, his gaze wandering down her again.
She worried her lower lip, then inhaled a deep breath as if choosing her words very carefully. “My mother didn’t explain very much and John was often frustrated that I—”
“No.” He held up a hand. He was frustrated that he couldn’t do more. “Not that you couldn’t.”
Her shoulders rose and then fell as her gaze cast down again. “I wish I could believe that.”
He stepped closer to her, reaching down a hand. “Well believe this. If you take my offer, I will show you all the parts of marriage he never did.”
Slowly, she lifted her hand, placing it in his as she allowed him to pull her from the chair. Just before she rose, she scooped up the contract she’d dropped earlier. “If you were considering marriage, why did you ask me to be your mistress first?”
He shrugged, wishing they didn’t have to talk about him. “I thought about marrying a woman I felt very little passion toward. Passion gave me this.” He pointed to his face, ran his index finger down his puckered scar. “But I’d be a fool not to see that you have a steady tempera
ment.”
She drew in a deep steadying breath. “In that case, I accept.”
“You do?” He pulled her closer, reaching for the hand that held the contract. He placed a hand at her elbow and guided her over to the small writing desk in the corner.
Taking the papers from her hands, he unfolded them, signing his name at the bottom of the last page.
With the tip of the quill, he pointed to several paragraphs. “Your allowance for clothing, your pin money, the sum I will leave for you in the event you are widowed once again.”
She gasped and reached for his biceps, holding onto his arm. “That is…” Her voice stalled. “I never expected.”
“I told you I would care for you financially.” He turned to look at her. “You’ve signed no other contracts?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“You’re certain?”
“I’m certain.”
He handed her the quill. “Your turn then.”
She took the quill from his hand, dipping it into the ink and then leaned over the paper, signing her name to the bottom. “There is something else I want to tell you. When you first arrived, I said that I was—”
“It’ll have to wait,” he answered. “We’ve got something more important to attend to.”
“What?” she asked, straightening back up.
“I intend to bed you tonight.” Then he clasped her hand in his and made his way to the door.
Chapter Nine
Cassandra tried to hold in the yelp of concern that nearly bubbled out of her lips. This evening was progressing far more quickly then she’d ever thought possible.
She’s accepted an offer of marriage, to a man who stole the breath from her chest. She’d be a duchess. And she’d built this shiny new future on a single lie. That she was already engaged. “But…what about our dinner?”
He stopped so suddenly, she nearly bumped into his back. “Mr. Harris, we’d like a tray brought up to Mrs. Winterset’s room,” he said, then he began moving again.
She attempted to catch her breath as she trailed in his wake. The man was like a storm… or perhaps the ocean. He was a force of nature to be reckoned with. And Cassandra had landed right in his path. That thought frightened her, of course. While he’d eased some of her fears, many lingered. Would she please him? Would he grow angry and resentful?
But then he also filled her with…excitement. Contentment.
For the first time in years, she’d be secure in her future. And she’d have a man by her side who effortlessly filled her with pleasure. With those two thoughts in mind, she followed willingly where he led.
“Shouldn’t we,” she started, licking her lips. “Shouldn’t we wait until after the wedding?”
