He stopped dancing again, and suddenly, he dropped to one knee. “Cordelia Moorish, I’ve a proposal for you.”
“Proposal?” Her voice cracked on the single word.
He nodded. “I want you to be my wife.”
She blinked several times, her knees going weak. “But you said you wouldn’t be caught by me. You wouldn’t be caught by anyone.”
“I did. And if I am married already, to my dear friend, then there is no chance that I ever will marry anyone else.”
Only one explanation made any sense. He was mad.
Chapter Eight
As far as plans went, this was likely a terrible one. But it was a plan.
Ash resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair. Instead, he held both her hands in his. How would he ever resist the constant temptation she’d present?
“Married? As friends?” Her hands shook in his and he gripped them tighter wanting to comfort her.
“Correct. You’ll be free to pursue your music career, completely protected by my title.”
She stilled, even the shaking stopped. “And you?”
He shrugged. “I’ll have an answer to my financial woes. Though, you’re right. If I am to play the part of faithful husband, I’ll have to find a real career. Rake won’t do.”
Her brow furrowed at that. “Play the part? We won’t actually be husband and wife? So we will never…” Her words drifted off as color rose in her cheeks.
He got her meaning anyway and every muscle in his body clenched at the very idea of this woman underneath him. “No. Never.”
It wasn’t that he was afraid of intimacy, but he could not bear a child with a wife. It would ruin his perfect plot for revenge.
She nibbled on her lip. “Can I think about your offer?”
He gave a stiff jerk of his chin. He’d prefer she’d answer now, actually. With time, he feared she would expose several more holes in his plan.
For example, she might realize he was born a bastard and raised in a bordello. Or perhaps, that his father had hated the very sight of him even as he’d attempted to mold Ash into the perfect lord.
Would Cordelia grow to hate him too?
Or she might deduce that he wanted to kiss her constantly. Since the first moment he’d met her, in fact. And now that he’d had a taste…they’d have to live apart. But at least she’d be his, even just in name. Which made him a selfish bastard, he knew. “Of course you can think about it. It’s a big decision.”
He rose from his knee, swiping his thumbs across the back of her hands.
She looked at him with her brows drawn together and he shifted. What was she thinking now? What had she figured out? Analytical? Highly. Nerve-wracking? Very.
“It’s a very unusual idea and I’m…” her voice stalled again.
“Not so unusual. Many couples make a business arrangement rather than a love match.” He stepped closer, catching a whiff of her scent.
She shook her head. “This is different. Those are often based on creating heirs or social standing. They are not usually about music careers and ending a viscountcy. How do you even go about ending such a thing? I’ve never heard of anyone even trying.”
He shrugged. “I manage to sell off every asset, even the ones that are entailed. Takes a fair bit of legal prowess, actually, but I’ve studied for the occasion. Once that’s done, I can begin building my own assets. And then, of course, I do not make an heir. That is the key.” He leaned closer, his gaze intent upon her. “It will work as long as we’re both in agreement about the rules and goals.”
She nodded absently, her eyes staring off in the distance. “I have to confess, I do like rules.”
That made him smile. Really grin, in fact, and the tension he hadn’t even realized he was holding in his shoulders relaxed. He let o
ut a long rush of air. “Exactly.”