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“I am the Duke of Bainbridge,” he said icily. “I will create the records.”
The ruthless power it implied shocked her. “And what of your own sons?”
His lips twisted. “I already told you there will be no heir.”
She took a steady breath. “So our marriage will be purely in name, with no consummation and—”
A low, rough noise came from him, a sound of amusement perhaps.
“There will be bedding,” he said. “Over and over and over.”
A hot, confusing feeling shivered low in her belly. “Between us?” she asked dumbly.
He tipped her chin with a single fingertip.“Yes.”
“I…I do not understand.”
“Odd, I had perceived you to be a lady of quick wit.”
“It is childish, but I am tempted to kick your shin.”
He laughed, the sound low and rough, a deep masculine pitch that reached in cold places and warmed her. She suspected his laugh had nothing to do with the chaotic sensations fluttering in her belly, but perhaps, it was the tip of his finger still lingering on her chin, and the look of banked heat in his eyes.
“Let me be blunt.”
She cast him a peculiar look. “Please, Your Grace.”
“You will be in my bed and underneath me at least every night for the first few months. Once I get used to the idea of you in my bed, it might lessen, hmm?”
She pressed her thighs together against a sudden lick of heat. Verity could not believe he would be so wickedly brazen with her. They stared at each other, unmoving, yet there was a challenging gleam in his eyes. She delicately cleared her throat. “I believe bedding and children are related, Your Grace.”
He looked diverted. “There are ways to prevent it.”
Oh God. “No agreement,” she whispered. “Unless…”
“You are not in a position to negotiate,” he said with an icy bite, that sensual gleam taking on a cunning cast.
“I have always wanted children of my own,” she said on a tremulous breath. “I cannot enter a marriage that would deny me that joy.”
“Joy?”
“Yes.”
“What do I care about your joy?”
“That is how a marriage works, even the ones that are convenient. It is a mutual convenience and benefit.”
His expression shadowed. “You are ruined. Without any prospect. Should I retract my offer, your life will remain as it is now, empty and hollow with little to fill it up. What children are these that you fantasize about?”
She flinched. “You are cruel.”
“I am a realist, and given your situation, so should you be.”
“You care about Thomas,” she said, boldly taking a step toward him. They stood so close the hem of her dress brushed against his bare feet, reminding her that she was alone, in the dead of night, with a gentleman many called the Devil Duke because of his many illicit, sinful pursuits. She recalled reading about him in the scandal sheets and with a sense of awe, wondering what it would be like to be that free, to live life without any fear of consequences or condemnation.
“I care,” he said flatly.
“Whether your caring is because of the bonds of love or guilt…you care.” Verity could not say why, but she lifted a hand to cup his jaw. The duke faltered into remarkable stillness, those vivid green eyes flaring in shock for the briefest moment. Yet he did not pull away from her touch, and she wondered if he realized he tilted his face more into her palm.
