She took a breath. Now or never. Forward, or forever here. “I propose an arrangement. Not a long-term arrangement. That would be silly. And disrespectful.”
And foolish, as anything long-term with Duncan West would surely end in her wishing it more than she should.
Those words again.
He did not respond except to say, “Go on.”
She stopped. Turned to him. Attempted to behave as though she ran one of London’s finest men’s clubs. “You said you wished to kiss me.”
“Was my desire unclear?”
She ignored the flood of heat that came at the words. “It was not. And you wished to do other things as well.”
His gaze turned dark. “A great number of other things.”
The words did strange things to her insides.
She nodded. “Then I propose we do those things.”
One of his golden brows rose. “Do you?”
Embarrassment flared, but she brazened it through. “I do. You haven’t a mistress. And neither have I.”
That did shock him. “I should hope not.”
She tilted her head to one side and spoke as Anna, feeling altogether more powerful now that the proposition had been made. “I see no reason why I shouldn’t until I’ve landed Langley. Discreetly, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I think you’ll do.”
“As mistress.”
“You cannot imagine I would choose the word master.”
His shock compounded. Obviously. She enjoyed the moment. Particularly when he said, “I feel certain I should be insulted.”
She laughed, feeling suddenly freed by the conversation. “Come now, Mr. West, I am no delicate flower. Aren’t you the one who said I should have a choice?”
He narrowed his gaze on her. “I meant in your long-term future.”
“I have chosen my long-term future. And now I am choosing my immediate future,” she said, stepping closer, bringing a yard to a foot. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I choose you.”
He moved at the words, and she thought for a fleeting moment that he would capture her and pull her close. She would not have resisted. But he stopped himself, likely realizing that they were in public. It did not make the moment less exciting. She’d never been near a man who wanted her so much and was still so willing to resist her.
She smiled. “I take it you accept.”
“On one condition,” he said, crossing his arms, turning his back to the wind as it blew across the lake. Protecting her from the cold.
“Name it.”
“While you are in my bed, you are not in his.”
Chase.
It was an easy condition to accept. “Done.”
He seemed to hesitate at her easy acceptance of his term, and she wondered if she’d given too much away. But then she saw the emotion cross his face. Disbelief.
He thought she was Chase’s woman.
It should not have frustrated her as it did. It should not have angered her that he did not trust her. That he did not believe her. After all, she was lying even as she told him the truth.
But it did frustrate. Because she wanted this, above all else, to be something that was true. She began again, prepared to convince him. “We are not —”
He cut her off. “I accept.”
Relief coursed through her.
Then he said, “We begin tomorrow night.”
And relief turned to desire.
“I —” she started, but he stopped her again.
“I am in control.”
The words sent a little thrill through her, even as she told herself she had no intention of allowing him to be in charge. “It was my idea.”
He laughed at that, the sound low and graveled. “I assure you, I had this idea long before you did.”
He called ahead to his sister, who immediately turned to acknowledge him. He indicated the curricle, and she passed the reins of Georgiana’s horse to Caroline to head in the direction of the conveyance. Once that was done, he returned his attention to Georgiana and repeated himself. “I am in control.”
Her brows snapped together. “I don’t much care for that.”
His lips twitched in a small smile. “I promise that you will.”
And with that, he left, headed back down the rise.
“Mr. West.” She called him back, not knowing what she would say, but knowing, nonetheless, that she wished him to turn. To look at her once more.
He did. “Considering the most recent turn of events, I think you should call me Duncan, don’t you?”
Duncan. It felt far too personal. Even after she’d propositioned him. Perhaps because she’d propositioned him. Dear God. She’d propositioned him. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Duncan.”
He smiled, slow and wolfish. “I do like the sound of that.”
A blush rose in her cheeks, and she willed the color away. Failed. One side of his mouth kicked up. “And I like the look of that. There’s nothing of Anna in that color. Nothing false.”
The heat increased.
At once, he seemed to know too much of her. To see too much.
She cast about for something to rebalance their power. “Where were you? Before you came to London?”
He stilled, and understanding shot through her – something about the question had unsettled him. She knew with the keen sense of one who dealt in truths and lies that there was something there, in his past. Something that his instincts told him to lie about.
“Suffolk.”
Not a lie, but neither was it the whole truth.
And he did not stay for more questions.
“Tomorrow night,” he said, and the words left no room for refusal.