Page 69 of The Love Potion
He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not doing this well. Miss Petrelli—Kynthea—I wish—”
“Stop!” She held up her hand, her expression fierce. “You do not need to apologize for this afternoon. In fact, that is what I wish to speak with you about.”
He closed his mouth, damning himself for drinking the brandy. He was not normally this tongue-tied, but he’d never proposed to a woman before.
“Please,” she pressed. “Just let me say this.”
He leaned back, grateful for the reprieve. “Of course,” he said.
“I should like to…um…I should like to sell you my virginity.”
Thank heaven he’d finished his drink. He might have choked on it otherwise. “I see,” he said slowly. “Exactly what would be the price?”
“The, um, usual arrangement would suffice,” she said. Her hands tangled now in her skirt. “I assume…er…after this morning, that you are interested?”
No, he wasn’t. Well, he was absolutely interested as his cock was already thickening at the idea. But this was not what he’d expected at all. “You have my attention,” he said. And at her widened eyes, he hastened to explain. “And I most definitely want you in my bed.”
Her gaze skipped sideways to the furniture in question, then rapidly returned to him. “Um, the usual is a room somewhere. I don’t require much, though I would appreciate a maid of all work.” She swallowed. “I shall need it for a year.”
“Where did you learn this?” His voice was growing tight as his anger stirred. She wanted to sell herself to him!
“The L—” She cut off her words. “It doesn’t matter. I spoke to people who know, and they were most helpful.”
“Really?” he drawled. “And what else did they tell you?”
“That as a lady of quality, I am worth a premium.”
He winced at her blunt phrasing. “It seems you are very well informed. How much do you think that should cost?”
She named a figure that had him gripping his empty brandy glass in fury. Not because it was an outrageous amount, but because it was so damned low. She was worth ten times that amount! She must have noticed his reaction because her chin firmed as she steeled herself to continue. This was hard for her, as it should be. And he was angry enough to force her to continue.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“Yes. I do not want to bear children out of wedlock. I have gotten these…” She pulled an envelope that no doubt contained French letters. “I’m told that they are effective, but most men don’t like them.”
“That is correct—”
“I insist.” She looked down at her hands. “This is my choice, you understand. To become risqué. But I will not impose that choice upon a child. Bastards are not treated well, and I won’t—”
“You will have no bastard by me.” His voice was harsher than he intended. He wanted children with her. Bright boys and sweet girls. Or sweet boys and bright girls. It didn’t matter so long as he saw her in them, and he could love them as his father had loved him. But rather than focus on that, he noted that she had come here prepared not only with information, but also with condoms.
“You seem to have thought this through,” he said.
“I always try to be prepared,” she acknowledged.
“Then what happened this morning?”
Her head came up. “What?”
“I could have had you this morning in the tack room,” he said. “You never mentioned French letters then, nor the price ofyour virginity.” He sounded like the worst kind of libertine, but he couldn’t control the hard tone in his voice. He was furious.
“I…no, I guess I didn’t,” she said. “I suppose I am lucky then.”
“Lucky?” he rasped. “My dear, you are playing with fire.”
If he thought to cow her, he was sorely mistaken. Her head came up and her eyes flashed. It was likely the moonlight, but it seemed like she had a fire kindling within her. One that strengthened her voice and straightened her spine. “If you do not wish this…this…relationship, then we need speak no further.”
“Oh, I am definitely considering it. But I have a few questions to match your requirements.”
