Stranger in My Arms(37)

“Tell me about the boy,” Hunter said.

The nimble movements of her fingers faltered.

“Johnny was sent to the orphanage from Holbeach Prison. His father was a convicted felon. I brought Johnny here because there was no room for him, not even one spare bed.”

“And you intend for him to live with us? As what?

A servant? An adopted child?”

“There is no need for us to adopt him, if you don’t wish it,” Lara responded, her tone carefully neutral.

“But with all the means at our disposal, I thought it would be possible to raise him as… part of the family.”

Perplexed, annoyed, Hunter stared hard at her reflection in the mirror.

“We’re not talking about taking a relative’s child into our home, Lara.

It’s likely he comes from a long-established line of thieves and murderers.”

“Johnny’s pedigree, or lack thereof, isn’t his fault,” she shot back, with a quickness that betrayed she had already considered this line of argument. “He’s an innocent child. if he’s brought up in a decent home, he won’t be anything like his father.”

“That’s one theory,” Hunter replied, unimpressed.

“Tell me, then-are we to open our doors to every homeless child you encounter? There are too damn many orphans in England. I’ve no desire to be a replacement father to all of them. Or even to one, at this point.”

“You don’t have to act as his father.” Lara’s hands clenched in her lap. “I’ll be enough for him. I’ll take care of him and love him without letting it detract from my other responsibilities.”

“Such as your responsibility to me?” He indicated the bed with a jerk of his head. “Let me know when you’re ready to assume your wifely duties, and then we’ll take up the matter of your latest protege.”

She gasped in outrage. “You can’t possibly mean … Are you saying that you won’t allow me to keep Johnny unless I agree to sleep with you?”

Hunter smiled mockingly, deciding that he would indulge her only up to a point. He would be damned if she would have everything her way and not have to pay some price. “As I said, I’m open to bargaining.

But before we start setting terms, I want to point out something that you may not have considered. Raise the boy as one of the family, if you like. But he won’t have the bloodlines to be accepted in good society, and he won’t be a servant, and he’ll be a damn sight too good for the lower classes he came from.”

Lara compressed her mouth, stubbornly refusing to see the truth in his words. “That won’t matter. I’ll help him to find his own place in the world.”

“Like hell it won’t matter,” he said savagely. “You don’t understand what it’s like to live between two worlds, and not fit in anywhere.”

“How would you know what it’s like to be a misfit? You’ve always been a Hawksworth, and had everyone bowing and scraping before you since the day you were born.”

Hunter clenched his jaw until it vibrated. A torrent of words jammed inside him. She dared to defy him.

She imagined him as a coldhearted bastard, and styled herself as the patron saint of all helpless creatures.

Well, he was more than ready to answer her challenge.

“Fine,” he said. “Keep him here. I won’t stand in your way.”

“Thank you.” Her tone was wary, as if she sensed what was coming next.

“And in return,” he continued silkily, “you can do something for me.”

He walked to the Hepplewhite chair and picked up a brown paper parcel beside it.

Casually he tossed the featherlight package to her.

She caught it in a reflex movement.

“What is this?” Lara asked. “A present?”

“Open it.”

She complied slowly, as if suspecting some sort of trick-and it was, in a way. The present was for his benefit, not hers. Setting the brown paper on the dressing table, Lara extracted a delicate, slippery length of black silk and lace. Hunter had bought the negligee from a London dressmaker, who had created the garment as part of a large order for a celebrated courtesan. The customer would never miss it, the dressmaker had assured Hunter, eager for his future patronage.

The negligee was little more than a film of transparent silk, the bodice made of a web of sheer lace.

The flowing skirt was slit to the waist in two places.

“Only a prostitute would wear this,” Lara said in a stricken whisper, her green eyes huge.

“A very, very expensive prostitute, my sweet.”

Hunter wanted to laugh at her obvious horror.

“I could never…” Her voice trailed into silence, as if the thought of wearing it was too terrible to mention aloud.

“But you will,” he said, enjoying himself. “You’ll wear it for me tonight.”

“You must be mad! How could I possibly wear something like this? It’s indecent. It’s …” She turned pink, a bright blush seeping down her neckline. “I may as well be naked!” she exclaimed.

“There is always that option,” he said with a thoughtful expression.

“You… you devil! You degenerate, manipulative-” “Do you want Johnny to stay?” he asked.