A Study In Seduction(69)
The irritation in his tone stung her. “You appeared to tolerate it quite well several hours ago.”
He glowered, even as heat flared in his eyes. “No man could resist a woman half undressed as you were.”
Her stomach twisted. She’d known enough to expect this reaction, not that she could blame him. “If you believe it was a mistake—”
“It wasn’t a mistake,” Alexander interrupted. “It was inevitable. The minute I saw you, I knew I would have you in my bed.”
The beat of her heart increased, the sound pulsing into her thoughts and masking the admission that she had known the very same thing.
Before she could respond, he crossed the room to her and gripped her wrists in his hands.
“But this stops now,” he said. “I will give you two weeks.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Two weeks,” Alexander repeated. “If at that time you don’t agree to marry me, our relationship is over.”
Her heart thumped. “Is that a threat?”
“It is a fact. I will not risk an affair.”
“Why two weeks, then?” She struggled to infuse her voice with steel. “Why not pose the ultimatum now?”
“Because two weeks gives you time to prepare.”
She stared at him in astonishment. “You think I’m going to agree, don’t you?”
“Of course you’re going to bloody well agree,” Alexander said, a muscle throbbing in his jaw. “You will be my wife.”
“I will not.”
Anger and something else—desperation?—split through his expression like lightning. “For God’s sake, I’m heir to an earl, you foolish woman.”
“I am well aware.”
“We’ve weathered scandal, yes, but my fortune alone is considerable.”
“That alone is not reason to marry you.”
“I’ve told you you’ll have plenty of freedom, funds, time. You’ll continue your work, do whatever you want during the day.”
He moved closer, his eyes burning into hers and filled with remembrances of past lusty encounters… and promises of many more. His hot breath brushed her lips.
“And at night,” he said, the words almost a growl, “you will be mine, wholly and utterly. Without reservation.”
Lydia’s arousal heightened, pulsing against her skin, between her legs. Her cheeks darkened with a flush, her chest rising with increased breaths. “I don’t mean to imply that sounds unacceptable—”
A trace of amusement flashed in his expression. “Of course it’s not unacceptable. It’s a goddamned paradise.”
Hardly a poetic sentiment, and yet a deep happiness flowered in her soul because he believed—he knew—a marriage between them would be a thing of glory.
Lydia stared at the beautiful, strong column of his throat, the damp hollow where she had tasted the salt of his skin. She rested a trembling hand against his chest, felt his heart pound against her palm and reverberate through her arm. His fingers closed around her wrist.
All the hopes and dreams and wishes of her life flooded through her—the goals realized, the opportunities missed, the chances taken. The strange combination of happiness and despair that pulsed through her blood.
The deep-seated knowledge that she would change nothing about her life, nothing, not even if it meant possessing the freedom to accept his proposal, to embrace all the glorious advantages of being Alexander Hall’s wife.
“If I were ever to marry,” she said, “I would wish for no other husband except you.”
“Then say yes.”
Frustration slammed hard against Alexander when Lydia didn’t respond. He tightened his grip on her wrist until her wince made him realize he was hurting her.
Muttering a curse, he released her and stepped back. He felt her gaze on him. He fought the urge to pace. Instead he picked up the poker again and stabbed at the burning logs. He reined in his anger, knowing it was hardly the most effective way to convince her to accept him.
Lydia sank into a chair beside the fire, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Silence fell between them for what seemed a very long time before she spoke.
“It’s required of you, isn’t it?” she asked. “That you marry well. I can see why the daughter of a baron would have been an excellent match for you.”
Alexander tightened his fist on the poker.