“It’s not you—”
“Hush, my lord. This is simpler.” She went on as if he’d never spoken. “If you take a mistress, I refuse to look the other way. You are marrying me—no matter the circumstances at the present—and you will honor those vows until you have an heir.”
“Now see here—”
“But if you don’t, a divorce will be procured at your expense without fully besmirching my reputation, though the both of us won’t come out of such proceedings unscathed. You will assume all responsibility and fault in those proceedings.”
What the devil? “You can’t be serious.”
Sarah continued. “However, if we agree to merely separate and if we don’t have children and you wish to take a mistress, do so discreetly. No harm or foul. Since one of the requirements of this union was for you to have a son.” The delicate tendons in her throat worked with a swallow. “I’m well aware of my age, so I might not be able to bear children at all. If that’s the case, I don’t want you to remain tied to me.”
His heart gave an unexpected tug, for he’d never thought of any of this from her perspective. “Sarah, I’m… well, I’m glad I picked you.” For the first time in his life, gratitude swamped him. “We’ll weather each storm as we encounter it.”
“Thank you, Andrew.” When she looked at him, a hint of pleasure warmed her eyes.
Hearing his name from her lips took him by surprise. Awareness of her skittered up his spine. Grudging admiration snuck in to mix with his anger and took away a portion of the sting. She wasn’t a stupid woman by any stretch, and damn if she wasn’t afraid to meet him toe to toe. “Is that all of your changes?”
“There is one more item.” She handed him the last piece of paper. “Since my great uncle won’t put a dowry on me, I want one from you.”
“What?” His eyebrows rose. Was she mad?
She nodded. “If our marriage goes to hell for whatever reason, I want security in the event of a divorce.” When she met his gaze, uncertainty swam in hers—the first hint of vulnerability she’d shown since marching into his study. “Ten thousand pounds in an account under my name with the Bank of England.”
“Bloody hell.” He gasped at the princely sum. “And if we remain married?”
“Bequeath it to our children.”
Yes, she was exactly what he needed. “Fine.” After taking the pen from her, he scribbled his name onto the contract next to hers. Then he threw both the contract and the pen onto the desk. The need to clear his head grew strong, and his bride-to-be would do nicely. “I’m going into the village tomorrow morning to retrieve the signed common license. Would you like to accompany me?”
“I would. I’ll need time to find a dress for the ceremony, for I refuse to start a new life clothed in the rags of the old.” When she spun to head for the door, he stepped into her path.
“Thank you. I appreciate your attention to detail with the contract.”
Surprise jumped into her eyes. “You’re certainly welcome. I want you to know that you’re not alone. Not anymore.” She pushed her spectacles back into place. “However, you do need to work on that temper. I refuse to live with an abusive man.”
His respect for her continued to rise, as did his desire. Having her so close and enduring the rapid ebb and flow of high emotions required an outlet. “I’ve never hit anyone, would never lay a hand on a woman in anger. I’d sooner do harm to myself than that.”
“Good. I draw the line there.”
“Understandable.” He dropped his gaze briefly to her mouth. Yes, a kiss would do nicely. “Let me buy you a gown for the ceremony. Something worthy of a countess. After that, you can hire a modiste to come here and outfit you.”
A tentative smile curved her lips. “I would like that. Thank you, my lord.”
“Andrew, damn it.” Before she could speak again, he whisked her into his arms and brought his mouth crashing down on hers. She felt every bit as good in his embrace as she had the last time.
It took next to no time for her to return his kiss. Despite the intensity, she wended her hands about his neck and surrendered to his leading. She welcomed him with the same enthusiasm she’d shown in contract negotiating.
Drew walked her backward the few steps until his desk bumped against her bum and stopped the movement. He slid a hand down her back. When he encountered her hips, he pulled her flush against him. Surely she could feel how much he wanted her. Then, daring much, he ran the tip of his tongue along her lips. When she opened for him, he went exploring, sought out her tongue and asked for anything she wished to give.
With soft little sounds at the back of her throat, she fenced with him. Satin dueled with silk, and still he devoured her. This woman challenged him on every level, and she’d no doubt lead him a merry chase in the bedroom too. He groaned, his need for her ramping, and as he slipped a hand up her ribcage to cup a breast, she wrenched away.
Her breathing was as labored as his, her eyes limpid pools of the finest brandy behind slightly steamed spectacle lenses. “Wed me first. Then you can bed me.” She touched the tip of her tongue to her bottom lip, and he nearly lost the last vestiges of his control. “I won’t have you treat me like a fallen woman merely to alleviate your need.”
Instead of letting irritation surge to the forefront, he laughed. She’d thrown down her opening salvo with the negotiations and he’d countered her with the impromptu embrace. The next move was hers, and oh how he would enjoy this little game of chess. “I shall see you tomorrow, unless you’d like tea before you go?”
Her throaty chuckle sent a shiver into his groin. “I think it’s safer if I return home. The events of this afternoon have already gone straight to my head.” Gingerly, she stepped around him with one last lingering glance at his mouth. “Enjoy your evening.”
He would, for the mere fact that he’d think of inventive ways of routing her on their wedding night, which was approaching at a rapid pace.
Perhaps it wouldn’t become the folly he anticipated.