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The confession did not surprise him, and he regretted his question as it clearly distressed her. He wondered how desperately she needed the money. If he were truly generous, he would simply grant her the sum she needed. Certainly there was a pitch of desperation in the way she spoke. But then he would lose the opportunity to take her to Chateau Follet.
She must have interpreted his quiet as disinclination and said, “Surely a hundred pounds would not cause you grief?”
As if to accentuate her point, she looked about his study with its large bay windows, silken walls, velvet curtains, Persian rugs, polished tables, and richly upholstered seating.
“Not at all,” he replied, recalling he had offered her more—much more—in the past. He would have easily agreed to her current proposition for a larger sum. No miser, he was not cavalier with his money save when it served a specific purpose or helped him achieve something he very much wanted.
And he wanted Miss Herwood.
He wanted her bent over a chair, tethered to the bedposts, or writhing beneath him. Only after he had had his fill of her could he truly hope to release her hold on him. Feeling his cock stretch, he crossed one leg over the other.
“And I should require the sum in advance,” she stated evenly but in one breath.
He raised a brow. She was desperate indeed. “You are in some haste, Miss Herwood?”
“If I were, it would be no affair of yours.”
Still wanting to understand the exact circumstances prompting her request, he contemplated whether or not to insult her pride with further inquiry. “Having placed your trust and confidence in me to protect your personage, you do not trust me where money is concerned?”
She reset her grip on the reticule. If he could, he would toss the annoying article.
“I appeal to your charity.”
The noblesse oblige in him would have him give her the money without condition. But he could not deny the visceral part of him. What if this were his last chance with Miss Herwood?
“Are you in a precarious way, Miss Herwood?” he asked flatly. He knew she kept to herself for the most part and respected that she was not one to indulge in pity. What little he understood of her and her family he had gleaned from others or his own observations. But if she was in danger, such knowledge might sway his decision.
She had the impudence to let out an exasperated sigh. “Lord Rockwell, you had solicited me. I am at a loss with regards to this interrogation.”
“Because it is obvious it is not my charm that compels you.”
This time she had the decency to flush.
“Then you underestimate yourself, my lord,” she murmured.
She was playing the coquette, but he had to suppress the rising desire to reach over and manhandle her.
“Are we agreed to the proposition at hand?” she pressed.
“Lift your veil.”
Taken aback by his authoritative tone, she hesitated.
“If you are to come to Chateau Follet, you must learn to obey my commands.”
He waited patiently for his statement to sink in. She pulled the veil off her face. He drank in the sight of her. She was more comely than she assumed. Even if she had not the long lashes or narrow shoulders desired by most women, she had an intelligent brow and a decent glow to her complexion.
“I would be a poor businessman if I advanced the whole without collateral,” he stated as he eyed her response carefully.
“Half then?”
He had one more test for her.
“Come hither—and put down the damned reticule.”
Her eyes widened slightly. She was on her guard, but she did as told and went to stand before him. He appraised the length of her from his seat. Without warning, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her onto his lap. His mouth covered hers. After a moment of surprise, her lips parted for him. He tasted of her mouth and delved his tongue into its warm wetness. When he felt a return pressure, he released her back onto her feet.
Noblesse oblige had never possessed the upper hand, and it was vanquished for good by the kiss. The scent of her—a mixture of the lavender soap she used and the Darjeeling tea she drank—continued to linger in his nostrils, despite their distance. The blood was pumping in his veins, and especially his groin.
