“Silas,” she said, “you can’t help. No one can. I’ve seen every solicitor in London and there’s nothing to be done. Their decision is in no way illegal. They have every right to sell their shares if they so choose, and even though using that to force me into marriage feels like blackmail, legally, it is not.”
“I wasn’t talking about solicitors, Mary Margaret,” I said softly. “I was talking about me. Me and you. I came here to marry you.”
Her mouth fell open into a small O, and the glimpse of her pearl-white teeth and pink tongue reminded me how stiff my erection still was, how much my skin still burned to touch hers.
“You want to marry me?” she asked disbelievingly. “Why?”
Because I love you.
Because I can’t stop thinking about you.
Because I’ve found heaven, and it’s you and your perfect mouth and your perfect pussy.
“Because I have a proposition for you,” I said, still friendly, still smiling, still all business. “I can marry you, so you can satisfy the board’s demands, and then I will never, ever interfere in your running of the company or allow the board to use me to coerce you in any way—even if we have to playact at me taking charge, I never will interfere. And then you give me what I want. A transaction. No emotions, no entanglements, simply an exchange.”
“Exchange? Exchange for what?” Her tone was still doubtful, still incredulous. I knew that what I was about to say next would not repair that in any way.
I gave her the most dimpled and handsome smile I could muster.
“For a child.”
Her skin went even paler than normal, chalk-white against the sandy ecru of her freckles. “A baby,” she said, her voice devoid of any affect or feeling. “A…child.”
“A human baby. Yes.”
She blinked. Stared at me. Like she’d never heard of babies before.
“You want a baby,” she said, her face slowly changing from flatly pale to flushed and suspicious. “You want to marry me so that…what? So that we have children together?”
“Yes.”
She spun on her heel, realized she was facing a wall and then spun back. “Have you gone mad?”
“It’s been a while since I checked, buttercup.”
She didn’t even crack a smile at my response. She stepped forward, her cheeks flaming scarlet. “Are you joking, then? Is this some sort of elaborate prank?”
“My offer is as serious as sin, Molly. I’m not insane and I’m not joking.”
She came closer, so close I could smell her again, spices and the clean, flowery smell of her hair. “Then how dare you,” she seethed. “How dare you come here after what you did and presume to think that I could ever—ever—entertain the idea of being bound to you. How dare you think that I would debase myself enough to marry you? To carry your fucking child?”
Her volume had risen with her color, and I was certain people on the other side of the curtain could hear her. She was magnificent right now, her hands
balled into fists in her skirt, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, her slender frame visibly shaking with anger.
I hadn’t expected her to hit me and I hadn’t expected my very physical (and deeply wrong) response to her striking me—but this? This bone-rattling, blood-boiling rage?
This I had expected.
“I know we have a history—” I started.
“A history?” she shrieked. “A history? Is that what you call it? You told me you cared about me, Silas, you told me that you wanted me and me alone and that you were done being with other women. You saw me crying! I told you…” She faltered and trailed off, her gaze breaking away from mine, her thin arms wrapping themselves around her body. “I told you I loved you.”
She didn’t have to say any more. We both knew what had happened next.
“I won’t try to defend myself,” I said quietly. “I don’t have any reasons or excuses except that I’m a loathsome troll.” And that I was scared to death of the way that you made me feel.
Of the way you still make me feel.
