Brazen and the Beast (The Bareknuckle Bastards #2)(15)

It had been because he’d wished for revenge.

It hadn’t been for her.

Of course it hadn’t.

After all, this man, with his controlled passion and his silent assessment, was not the kind of man who came for Henrietta Sedley, pudgy spinster with ink stains on her wrists.

Not unless she could deliver him something.

This man might not wish a dowry, but he wished something, nonetheless.

She ignored the pang of sadness that came at the understanding—pretended not to notice the sting at the backs of her eyes or the hint of unwelcome emotion in her throat. Crossing her arms more tightly over her chest, she moved past him to where she had discarded her shawl earlier.

Once she was wrapped in the rich turquoise fabric, she turned back to him. His gaze flickered to the place where the wrap covered her ripped bodice, the tear she’d demanded he put there.

She inhaled. If she could make one demand, she could make another. “It strikes me, sir, that you might be in the market for a trade.”

One black brow rose in curiosity.

“I shan’t deny that I know who had a hand in your . . . predicament . . . this evening. We are both too intelligent to play at silly games.”

He grunted his affirmation.

“I shall fetch what you have lost. I shall return it to you. For a price.”

He watched her for a long moment. “Your virginity.”

She nodded. “You want retribution; I want a future. Two hours ago, I was prepared for a transaction of sorts, so why not now?” When he did not reply, she lifted her chin, refusing to let him see her disappointment. “There’s no need for you to pretend you wished to do it out of the goodness of your heart. I am no starry-eyed miss. I’ve eyes and a looking glass.”

She had been for a moment, though. He’d almost tricked her into playing such a part.

“And you are no shining-armored knight, eager to court me.” Silence. Damn silence. “Are you?”

He leaned against the bedpost and crossed his arms. “I am not.”

The man could have at least pretended.

No.

She didn’t want pretend. She preferred honesty.

“And so?”

He watched her for a long moment, those infernal all-seeing eyes refusing to release her. “Who are you?”

She gave him a little shrug. “Hattie.”

“Do you have a surname?”

She wasn’t going to tell it to him. “We all have surnames.”

“Mmm.” He paused, then said, “So, you offer the name of my enemy—though not your own—in exchange for a fuck.”

“If you think to shock me with your language, it won’t work.” She waved away the word. “I grew up on the docks.” She’d played in the rigging of her father’s ships.

He narrowed his gaze on her. “You’re not from the gutter.”

“Are you?” Who are you? She wasn’t surprised he didn’t reply. “No matter. The point is that I cut my teeth on the foul language of sailors and dockworkers, so I’m unshockable.” She pulled the shawl tight around her and considered this man, whom she’d found tied up in her carriage, who thought her brother an enemy, and who called himself Beast. Unironically.

She should walk away. End this night before it went further. Return another time and resume the Year of Hattie with another man.

But she did not wish another man—not after this one had kissed her so well.

“I won’t give you a name. But I shall return whatever you’ve lost.” She would go home, sort out Augie’s part in this play, fetch whatever it was that had been taken from this man, and return it.

“That’s likely for the best.”

Relief flared, then uncertainty. “Why?”

“If you give me the name, you shall take responsibility when I destroy him.”

Her heart pounded at the words. Destroying Augie was destroying her father’s business. Destroying her business.

She should end this now. Never see this man again. She ignored the disappointment that flared at the idea. “If you’ve no interest in my offer, then you should leave. I’ve an appointment.” Perhaps she could salvage the evening.

Not that she wished for Nelson any longer.

It did not matter. A means to an end.

A muscle ticked in his perfect, square jaw. “No.”

“What then?”

“You are in no position to make me an offer.” He reached for her once more, his long, warm fingers sliding over the nape of her neck, pulling her off balance just enough for her to put her hands to his chest for stability. “I get all of it.”

He caught her inhale with his lips, a firm, hot slide of pleasure. He broke the kiss.

“What is mine,” he growled.

Whatever her brother had stolen. “Yes.” She met his lips again. Sighed as his tongue found hers in a long, slow slide.

He pulled back. “What is yours.”

Her virginity. “Yes,” she whispered, coming up on her toes for another kiss.

He resisted a hairsbreadth from her. “And the name.”

Never. That would bring him too close to everything that mattered to Hattie. She shook her head. “No.”

One dark brow rose. “I don’t lose, love.”