“Isabella,” he said, then stepped closer again. “You may call me, Bash. Our relationship is not the sort that stands on formality.”
She blinked up at him, her chin snapping back up. “Does that mean that you’ve accepted my offer?”
Chapter Seven
Damn it all to bloody bullocks. He’d like to swear a string of curses long enough to circle the entire house. He’d sound like Blasphemy. Accept her offer?
Yes.
Bash was going to accept.
He didn’t want to. Didn’t think he should.
He’d meant what he’d said to Mason earlier. She was dangerous for him. She stirred emotions he thought he’d stamped out long ago.
But when he thought of that uncle marrying her off to some vulgar, filthy wretch of a man with a purse… It made good old-fashioned rage surge inside him. The kind that had gotten him the nickname of Bash to begin with.
And that wouldn’t do either.
He still wasn’t entirely certain what she’d offered. She’d said job…of course. But there was an implied offer in all the words she hadn’t said. An enticing promise. She wanted all the protection that she’d receive as his mistress.
He shouldn’t bed her, yet longing rolled over him like a wave.
But he wasn’t certain he could resist the offer either.
He touched her face again but this time, instead of cupping her cheek he slid his fingers down her velvety skin. “It’s a fairly steep price. One dealer for three marriages.”
Her lips parted as her face tilted up to his. Her brown eyes beseeched him with a sheen of unshed tears. She was completely open to him and the vulnerability called to him. “My wages can be their dowries.”
His teeth snapped together.
Isabella was a rare and delicate flower. Even a dunderhead like himself could see that. Her earnest answer stole his breath. He’d expected her to say something more rehearsed like, I’m worth it.
Instead, her words made him feel as though he were taking advantage of her rather than her leveraging his position.
But he slid his fingers behind her neck, pulling her closer. He dropped his forehead down until it pressed to hers. “Isabella.” Why did his voice sound so rough and emotional? He couldn’t say anything but what he really felt. “You’d be around drunken men without a male protector night after night.”
“You’ll protect me,” she answered a small smile touching her lips.
He groaned. Did she understand how that tugged at him? Trusting herself to his care. “Do you know what you’re implying?”
She gave the tiniest nod. But this close, he couldn’t help but feel her tremble. “I’m prepared for whatever parameters you wish to place on our relationship.”
Her admission nearly undid him. Tilting his chin forward, he captured her mouth with his own.
She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t kiss him back either.
In fact, Isabella drew in a sharp breath as though he’d completely taken her by surprise.
Which meant he withdrew just a bit and then leaned in again, giving her lips another gentle press.
This time, her mouth met his in a tentative kiss that sent hot need coursing through his body.
But he forced himself to be patient as he kissed her again and then again.
She more confidently kissed him with each return touch, her mouth lingering on his longer and longer every time.
He snaked a hand about her waist and pulled her close, her body molding against his.