Chapter 22

This was not what he wanted. James watched Sin’s slender fingers worry at the fabric of her dress and he wanted to wrap his own hands about them to calm them. He truly did wish to wed her, but he also wanted a willing wife. “I will be a good husband, Sin.”

She turned her head, looking over her shoulder at him. “I don’t believe you. No, that’s not quite right. I simply don’t trust that you will carry through with what you say. I think you will mean to be a good husband, but I am not sure that you know what that means.”

“I will be faithful, if that is what you are talking about.”

“That is good to know, but it’s not exactly what I mean.”

She still didn’t sound like she believed him, and damn it, he meant it. He’d seen the pain his father had caused his mother by having a mistress and he would never do that to a woman, particularly one who would be the mother of his children. Sin. Mother. Baby. Child. Now, didn’t that plant a whole new series of images in his mind? He’d never found gravid women attractive, but the thought of Sin’s belly swelling with his child was something else entirely. It made him want to toss her on those pillows and get started on the process immediately, assuming…“Are you with child? Is that why you have agreed to wed me?”

Her eyes flashed. “I won’t have an answer to that for another week. I am marrying you for exactly the reason I stated—or don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you completely.” And strangely he did. “Although next time I’ll make sure to lock you in at night. You seem to be lacking in common sense. First, you ride across the country by yourself and then through London in the wee hours of the night and then, second, you go wandering about a whorehouse unaccompanied. It is no wonder that you found trouble.” His continued fury at Thorton colored his words and his tone.

She turned to him fully and now her eyes were clouded. “A moment ago I was having a hard time explaining why it is I don’t trust you and now you have made it all too apparent. I don’t trust you to trust me. You just said you did, but you clearly have no faith that I can make decisions for myself. You will always do what you think is best no matter what I want. You will always think that you are right and I am lacking in sense.”

“You must admit…”

“I admit nothing. Have you looked at your own actions? It was you and not me who put us in this position, you and your silly idea that you needed to save your sister and so you abducted her and then you were so sure that any woman must find you irresistible that you…”

“I’ve already said I’ve changed my mind about Jasmine. And if you had told me who you were then everything would have ended right there.”

“You’ve already admitted that it was too late even then. From the moment we were trapped at the cabin there was no choice but for us to wed. My actions made no difference.”

They stood glaring at each other, anger rising, but also heat.

He could see her breasts heave, see the rapid pulse at her neck, see her pupils grow large and dark with desire.

Taking a step forward, he watched for every clue to her response. His own heart was speeding and blood surged through his veins. God she was gorgeous with her eyes shooting fire and high color on her cheeks.

His gaze dropped to her lips, full, damp, inviting. “And what if I think your actions made all the difference. I could have been there with a dozen different women and not ended up here, not felt like this.”

“Leave it to you to mention a dozen different women in the midst of your proposal.” Her tongue wet that lush lower lip.

“I think the proposal is finished. You agreed and I am not letting you off. Now we are just negotiating the exact terms of our agreement.”

“I am not quite sure that is how I see it.” Her breath brushed over his lips.

He leaned in until only inches separated them. “And how do you see it?”

“I see it as being forced to do something against my better judgment. It is not what I wanted.”

“And what do you want?” He moved that final bit and pressed his lips against hers, softly, giving her every chance to pull back.

She did not.

He pressed the kiss, and then pulled back. “Do you want this?” Another kiss.

No words left her mouth.

He pulled back. “Well, if you don’t want…”

Her hands came up and tangled in his hair, pulling his mouth back to hers. “Blast you,” he heard her mumble.

And then there was no talking.

Lips pressed. Tongues danced.

Her body pressed against his, the tension that had risen between them giving way in deluge. One of his hands found that wondrous ass, fingers digging in tight. The other rose to the top of her bodice, dipping below the ribbon edging.

A moan. He could not have said which one of them it came from.

Another moan. That one was his.

His fingers worked their way down, about her breast, his thumb brushing over her hard nipple despite the constriction of the fabric.

That moan was definitely hers. He could feel its vibration on his lips, taste its urgency.

He pushed his hips against her, his cock finding comfort in the softness of her belly. He thrust and released. God that felt good. The hand on her ass grabbed tighter, frantic.

He needed her now. Needed release now. He’d forced himself to have control for days and now it was all lost. He quickly began to bunch her skirts, eager to feel her flesh, her softness.

Damn, he could smell her arousal. She wanted him every bit as much as he needed her.

Finally, he felt the velvet of her skin. His hand opened wide, grabbing all it could, the tips of his fingers slipping into the cleft of her ass, gripping, kneading, wanting.

He pushed his cock firmer against her, feeling it swell and ache.

One of her hands swept about him and cupped his ass, pulling him tighter.

The hand about her breast squeezed, the thumb pushing back to…With a loud rip her bodice tore, his fingers suddenly unencumbered.

His lips moved from her mouth, down to her chin, her neck, eager to feast on the bounty below.

And then she pushed him hard, stepping back.

He stood still for a moment, disoriented.

“No,” she said. Her hair haloed her head in a glorious mess, her lips were red from his kisses, one breast peeked out, the pink nipple hard and begging.

He stepped nearer to her, drawn beyond reason.

She held up a hand. “No.”

God, he wasn’t sure whether more blood was pounding in his head or his cock. “No?”

“No.” Her voice was firm, with only the slightest quaver. “I have changed my mind. I do want to negotiate.”

“I thought that is what we were doing.”

She simply stared at him.

“Then tell me what you want,” he said. “You certainly seemed to want what I was doing. I think I will have finger shaped bruises on my ass for a week.”

She shook herself, slightly, and turned away. “We will not talk about ass bruises, as I am sure that I will not be unmarked. I do not deny that I was enjoying that, but I want more. I feel like it is always about doing things your way. I never feel you value what I want.”

“I certainly was very concerned about what you wanted when I washed you after the mud bath and also in the long gallery. I don’t see how you can think I was not thinking about you.”

“But where was my choice, my control? In both instances you said what you wanted and simply expected me to comply.”

“It was all about you.”

She stamped her foot, clearly slipping beyond reason. “You are missing the point entirely and this is why I would not marry you if I felt I had any choice. You decide what I want or what I should want and then I am expected to agree with you. How would you feel if I did that? If I made the decisions about what you should want? If I took control?”

Had she truly just asked that? Cynthia curled her hands tight as she waited for James’s answer.

“I don’t believe I would have a problem with that,” he answered her. “I am a reasonable man. Don’t scoff like that. I am very capable of letting you make decisions. I imagine that once we are married there will be plenty of decisions for you to make.”

She turned to face him, narrowing her eyes in challenge. “Why do I feel you are talking about menus, and hiring house staff, and perhaps even decorating—although I am sure you would expect to be consulted on any items of value?”

“That does not seem unreasonable.”

“And what if I want to invest in a canal or buy a racehorse or…or…to plant flax instead of corn or…” Words escaped her. She knew there were many more examples but could not think of a single one.

“Then I would expect you to discuss it with me. Again, that does not seem unreasonable.”

“And if you want to do any of those things, you will consult with me?” She smiled sweetly, wondering if he could feel the fury that still burned in her belly.

“I am used to making those decisions. You are not.”

Men! “How do you know that?”

“What?”

“How do you know what decisions I am used to making? And when did you last think about investing in a canal?”

“Well, I haven’t, but—”

“Exactly, but you assume you know how to make decisions and that I don’t.”

“All I am saying is that I am more experienced.”

Would he ever understand her point? “You’ve just admitted that you know nothing about canals and it happens I did much to manage the estate while my mother was ill. My father wished to spend all the time he could with her and I helped him with his daily duties. I know as much about fields as I do about how to manage a staff. I admit I know little about racehorses, but I am certainly capable of buying a mount for myself whether a more placid animal for in the city or a vigorous hunter.”

He opened his mouth and then shut it.

She waited.

“I am certain you could choose a sweet mare for yourself. I have always known you were a more than competent horsewoman.”

“And the hunter?” She tapped her foot.

“I admit I am less sure there as they can be dangerous if not carefully selected. I would hate for you to choose the wrong horse and take a fall, but”—he held up a hand when it was clear that she wanted to interrupt—“I am willing to listen and let you choose, unless the beast is truly unsuitable.”

It was hard to resist rolling her eyes. Although she knew her father felt exactly the same way. She was free to make most decisions but there were some that required a male touch. She might not have been so sensitive to it if she had not had relatively free rein while her mother was sick. “I will give you some credit for what I can see is a great compromise on your part. I just wish you could understand mine. You think you have the right to decide what choices I can make by myself and which I need help with. You cannot trust that I can decide when I need help?”

“When I am your husband it will be my right and indeed my responsibility to help make those decisions.”

“Do you hear yourself? And you wonder that I am not sure if I wish to wed you. Hell, I am not sure I wish to wed at all.”

His brow furrowed, the lines between his eyes growing deep. “I truly don’t wish to argue with you, Sin.”

“But you refuse to see my point.”

“I am trying. I don’t understand what has you so upset. Men make certain decisions. It has always been this way.”

“That doesn’t mean it always should be. I truly am rethinking my yes.”

He took a step toward her. “I can promise to try. What more do you ask of me?”

She closed her eyes, trying to find an answer. She did care for him, might even still love him. She just wasn’t sure she could live with him, live with worrying about what he would think was in her best interest. “Show me that you are willing to try? Show me that you can let me decide what I like—maybe even give me the chance to decide what you like.”

“How?” His question echoed through the room.

She hadn’t actually thought of a way. There must be something, something he could do here and now to prove that he was willing to give her a chance—even something small, something symbolic.

And then it hit her. It would be hard for him, very hard. He’d made it very clear that he liked to be in control in all aspects of his life—particularly when it came to sexual relations. Would he really be willing to let her be completely in charge, willing to let her tell him what to do? He’d indicated he was willing, but was he really? And did she want to be in charge, to take control?

She had to admit she wasn’t quite sure about that last, but then how was she supposed to know if she never tried? She’d certainly found she liked some things that she would have thought distasteful.

Opening her eyes, she turned about the room. This might just be perfect. She’d imagined herself tied between the columns, but what about James? What would it be like to have him tied while she did whatever she wanted with his body?

Turning back to him, she smiled. “Take off your clothing. All of it.”