Page 70 of Some Like It Wild
He lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “You needn’t look so shocked. It would hardly be unheard of for the daughter of an actress to warm a marquess’s bed. I’ll be well equipped to provide for you and Sophie. I can buy you a modest house somewhere, some bonny jewels, perhaps even a wee dog to help you pass the time when I’m too busy with my duties—or my wife—to pay a visit to your bed.”
She lifted her chin. “And just what would I be expected to offer in exchange for the privilege of becoming your mistress?”
“Whatever I wanted.” He leaned down to bring his mouth close to her ear, his husky whisper sending a shiver of longing through her soul. “Whenever I wanted it.”
“Very well,” she said coolly. “I accept your offer. I couldn’t have become your bride tonight, but there’s nothing to stop me from becoming your mistress.”
He straightened, his face going so still it could have been carved from granite. “There isn’t?”
“Of course not. All you have to do is tell me what pleases you.” She tossed her head, with a low, throaty laugh. “Don’t worry. I know how to play the role of strumpet. I saw my mother do it often enough—both on the stage and off of it. Shall I lie down on the bed and lift my skirts? Or should I bend over the settee?”
“Stop it,” Connor growled.
“Would you prefer to have me on my back?” She slanted him a provocative glance. “Or my knees?”
“Stop it, Pamela. Now!”
“I was only trying to please you.”
He seized her face in his hands, his gaze as raw as his voice. “If you want to please me, lass, then stop all this nonsense and marry me.”
Connor’s fierce tenderness was far more difficult to bear than his cruelty or his mockery. Pamela inclined her head, not wanting him to see the tears welling up in her eyes. “I am afraid I can’t do that, my lord. I have no choice but to set you free from any promise you made to me before we knew the full circumstances of your birth, any obligation that might prevent you from assuming your title and all of the privileges and duties that go with it, including the duty of finding a suitable bride and producing an heir of your own.”
As Connor withdrew his hands from her, she could do nothing to stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks.
His laugh was short and rueful. “This was our plan from the beginning, wasn’t it? That you would beg off our engagement and break my heart. I’m sure I’ll cut quite the tragic figure in the eyes of society. There will probably be no shortage of sympathetic women eager to console me.”
His words cut to the heart, but Pamela knew she had no right to rebuke him. He wasn’t being cruel now, only honest.
“You’re still entitled to the reward, you know,” he said.
She drew in a shuddering breath, forcing herself to lift her head and meet his gaze. “I don’t want it.”
His eyes were as silvery and distant as the moon. “You may not want it, but Sophie deserves it. Why don’t you just consider it payment for services rendered?”
As Connor turned and walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind him, she collapsed to her knees beside the settee, burying her face in the cushions to muffle her sobs.
Pamela had been crying for a long time when she became aware that someone was softly stroking her hair. She jerked up her head, her heart leaping with a wild and undeserved hope.
Sophie was curled up on the settee next to where she’d been resting her head, her golden curls rumpled and her eyes puffy from sleep.
Her sister touched a hand to her tear-ravaged cheek. “What ever is the matter, Pammie? I’ve never seen you cry like this. Not even whenMamandied.”
“I couldn’t,” Pamela confessed, croaking out a hiccup. “I had to be strong for you.”
“There, there, dear,” Sophie crooned, giving her hair another tender stroke. “Why don’t you let me be strong for a little while?”
Although she would have sworn she didn’t have a single tear left to weep, her sister’s compassion opened a brand new floodgate. The whole story came spilling out of her then—between sobs and snuffles and hiccups and several brief pauses to honk loudly into the worn handkerchief Sophie held up to her nose.
By the time she was done, her eyes were nearly swollen shut and she was too exhausted from weeping to lift her head from her sister’s lap.
“Let me see if I have this straight,” Sophie murmured, gently raking her fingers through Pamela’s disheveled hair. “As long as Connor was a dangerous ruffian with a price on his head who was highly likely to get you both hanged before all was said and done, you were willing to marry him. But now that you’ve discovered he’s a wildly wealthy nobleman who can give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of, you’ve tossed him aside like an old boot.”
Without lifting her head, Pamela nodded, then shook her head, then nodded again.
“And all because you’re so desperately noble and unselfish that you’re determined to throw away your happiness—and his—just to prove it.”
Pamela slowly lifted her head to look at her sister.
