“I possess a certain skill for rousing a lady’s interest.”
Good Lord! Was this an attempt at seduction?
Did he think to bed the mistress of the manor before taking his leave?
“You will find I am unlike other women, Mr Lockhart.” It was a small lie, but he was not to know. “Feigned words of affection are unlikely to provoke a reaction. Speak plainly. Tell me what you’re doing here. Tell me what you want.”
The rogue smiled. His tongue swept over his kissable lips, and she resisted the urge to moisten her own mouth. “To be blunt, Miss Darling, I want you.”
“Me!”
Saints preserve her!
What on earth did he mean?
Claudia struggled to catch her breath as her pulse pounded in the base of her throat. The smell of Mr Lockhart’s cologne swirled in her head, making her dizzy. The mischievous glint in his eye made her hands tremble with excitement, not fear.
The man was far too close for comfort. Claudia flicked her fingers towards the fireside chair. “Sit down, Mr Lockhart. How can I concentrate when you’re crawling about on bended knees like a grateful peasant?”
The gentleman inclined his head. When he stood, he seemed so tall, so broad and large. His thighs were eye level, and she could not help but steal a furtive glance at the solid muscles filling his breeches.
He dropped into the chair with the languid grace born of an aristocrat. The smug grin playing on his lips spoke of arrogance, of the satisfaction gleaned from knowing he had unsettled her composure.
As difficult as it was to remain indifferent, she refused to fall under his spell.
“There seems to be a miscommunication, sir. Regardless of your intentions, I am not any man’s possession.” And she would say the same to Mr Thorncroft first thing in the morning.
Mr Lockhart steepled his fingers as he watched her with an intensity that almost made her drop her gaze. She didn’t. For some reason, she felt empowered. He needed something from her, and she couldn’t help but feel flattered.
“I will not lie. The thought of possessing your mind and body, Miss Darling, has a strange appeal.”
So the wolf had decided to make an appearance.
Not wishing to flounder under the heat of his stare, she said, “Of course it does. What else would one expect from a scoundrel?”
He laughed. “Scoundrels lie and deceive. Scoundrels use and abuse. I come to you with honesty, with the truth that I would not be a warm-blooded male if I did not fantasise about taking you to bed.”
Claudia’s cheeks flamed. No doubt they were a bright shade of crimson. Try as she might to hide her naivety, something always gave her away.
“Finding a bed partner is not considered a life and death situation. And I am no man’s mistress, sir, so you can be on your way.”
Her sharp tone failed to wipe the smirk from his face. “No, I never once thought that you were.” He sat forward. “What I want is for you to come with me to London. What I want is for you to live with me. Sleep with me. Pretend to be my wife.”
Stunned did not even begin to describe her reaction to his shocking declaration. Had she been standing, her knees would have buckled and she would have ended up a crumpled heap on the floor.
“I beg your pardon,” she managed to say because clearly she had misheard.
He exhaled deeply, held his tongue while he scanned her with a scrutiny that sent a shiver from her neck to her navel. “My family believes I murdered a man,” he eventually said, though she wished he’d remained silent. “Someone wanted rid of me and so framed me for a murder I did not commit. I must go home and confront the demons of my past, Miss Darling. Proving my innocence is my priority.”
“I—I see.”
What else could one say when hit with such a terrifying revelation?
An awkward silence descended, the sound broken only by the crackle of the fire’s flames.
“I am innocent of any crime,” Mr Lockhart persisted. “You have no need to fear me.”
She hardly knew him. And while he looked strong enough to beat the life from a man, she doubted he had the heart to do so unprovoked. But what did proving his innocence have to do with needing a wife?