Despite the fact that the velvet curtains had been drawn for privacy, Emma was cognizant of the four burly guards posted atop and at the rear perch of the moving conveyance. It felt surreal to be cocooned in the luxurious carriage with Alaric while the world and its dangers slipped by outside. He sat on the opposite bench, his long legs stretched in front of him, one broad shoulder propped against the wall. His pose was casual, yet the possessive heat in his gaze filled her with a strange, dozy warmth.

Her thoughts were utterly scrambled. She felt disoriented, confused ... and, most perplexing of all, too relaxed to care. For the first time in her adult life, all she wanted to do was take a nap.

“We have matters to settle, Emma,” he said.

At the glittering resolve in his eyes, some of her languidness faded.

“You gave yourself to me,” he said tonelessly, “and now we must discuss the consequences.”

Panic dispelled the rest of her torpor. He made it sound as if she’d ceded more than she had.

She sat up. “It was the heat of the moment, and I didn’t give ... that is, we didn’t do anything irrevocable—”

“It’s just a matter of time. You can’t deny what’s between us.” His gaze warned her not to. “I’m not going to spend my energy fighting my attraction to you.”

He had to fight his desire for her? Her chest went as soft as a gently boiled egg.

“With time and proper guidance,” he went on, “I’m certain you’ll do.”

She blinked. “I’ll do ... what?”

His eyebrow cocked. “You’ll do as a duchess, of course.”

It took a second for his arrogant assumption to sink in. Her jaw slackened; her traitorous heart gave a leap. “Is that supposed to be a marriage proposal?”

“Pet, the time for proposals is over. You’ve made your choice. You’re mine.”

His conceit raised her hackles. “I am not yours. One reckless ... interlude doesn’t constitute ownership.”

“Andromeda’s and my bedchamber make three interludes,” he said smugly, “and the only reason you’re still a virgin is because I wish to respect our wedding night.”

Pressure built in her head like water heating in a covered pot. “I never said I’m going to marry you! And Lord knows why you want to marry me. We fight like cats and dogs. We have nothing in common. You’re a duke, and I’m a country miss—”

“As I said, you’ll learn.”

“I have no interest in giving up who I am to be your wedded slave. I have dreams of my own, a purpose to fulfill—”

“The managing of my household and producing of my heirs should give you plenty to do.”

Was he serious? Did he truly think he could dictate her future?

“I am going to be an investigator.” She repeated this slowly, as if to a daft person. After all, if the Hessian fit ...

The indulgent light vanished from his eyes. “I’m offering you one of the most coveted positions in Society. Do you know how many ladies would give their eyeteeth to be the next Duchess of Strathaven?”

“Then marry one of them.”

“I don’t want any of them. I want you.”

Why, oh why, did the authority in his voice make her thrum with yearning? She told herself she disdained his arrogance. Yet her belly fluttered, some feminine part of her helplessly captivated by the fact that such a beautiful, sensual man would look at her with burning possession in his eyes.

Swallowing, she said, “Why do you want to marry me? You ... you don’t love me.”

“No, I don’t,” he said dispassionately. “Love is a complication I neither need nor want in my life. What I’m proposing is a marriage of mutual benefit.”

How could he be so cynical about love—about life?

“So far I haven’t heard any benefits,” she managed.

His brow quirked. “Marrying me will endow you with worldly goods, the privilege to do as you please. On my side, I will gain a duchess and someone to provide me with an heir.” His voice lowered to a seductive timbre. “Given our attraction to one another, the begetting of the latter should prove a most pleasurable activity.”

“That’s not enough to build a marriage on.”

“I say it is.”

“You’re not going to bully me into marrying you,” she said.

She steeled herself for an onslaught of threats and intimidation. Instead, he scrutinized her for long moments, his eyes as impenetrable as smoked glass. His words took her by surprise.

“You want to negotiate? Let’s do it.” He gave a cool nod. “Tell me what it will take to make you mine.”

* * *

Apparently three orgasms hadn’t convinced the obstinate chit that she belonged to him.

Nonetheless, Alaric admitted that Emma had a point: as a tactic, bullying had thus far proved ineffective with her. Clearly, he would have to employ a different stratagem to win her over. This fact filled him not with annoyance but anticipation: his duchess-to-be would challenge, provoke, and test him—she would, however, never bore him.

“You want to bargain with me? Over marriage?” Emma frowned.

It wasn’t for nothing that he’d garnered a fortune through his business dealings. He knew how to leverage his assets and exploit the opposition’s weaknesses to get what he wanted. Where warranted, he could adapt his strategy to achieve the desired outcome. Time to apply a similar mindset to dealing with his future duchess.

He capitalized on the element of surprise. “Aye. State your terms.”

“My terms?”

Her confusion reached some deep, frozen part of him ... warming it. ’Twas as if she’d given no thought to how much she had to gain from marrying a duke. As if her desire was for him and not just what he could give her ...

He ruthlessly cut off that train of thought. He would hold no illusions when it came to this marriage, nor would he allow Emma to do so. He’d been clear about love: there would be no false expectations on either side. As long as she didn’t expect more than he could give, they would rub along just fine.

Now all he had to do was secure her hand. It wouldn’t be difficult. He knew her Achilles’ heel, after all, and would use it to his advantage.

“For instance,” he said innocently, “you could barter for a generous monthly allowance, enough to purchase all the jewels and furs a lady could want.”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t want jewels and furs.”

He knew that, of course. “Then perhaps you’d care for a carriage and yacht of your own, outfitted in the latest style to impress your friends?”

“My friends would not be impressed by such excessive frivolity,” she said scornfully.

“Ah.” He steepled his fingers. “Then perhaps there’s nothing I could offer to entice you to marry me after all ... unless ... wait a minute. No.” He shook his head. “You don’t need my help with that.”

“With what?” Her eyes narrowed.

“With your plan. Your goal of being an investigator.”

“You would help me with that?” she said with clear skepticism. “When you’ve said time and again that it’s an unsuitable job for a woman?”

“For an ordinary woman. Now for a duchess,”—he paused for effect—“it is an altogether different story.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because a duchess has the power and cache to do as she wishes. What is considered unacceptable behavior for an ordinary woman would be nothing more than a charming eccentricity in Her Grace. No one would dare gainsay you for fear of my reprisal.”

“And, hypothetically speaking, you would support your wife being engaged in detection work?” she said suspiciously.

In a manner of speaking. He’d come to the conclusion that it was a better option to let Emma dabble under his watch than to have her going at it pell-mell on her own. At least this way he would know what she was up to. He could keep a rein on her, keep her out of trouble.

“As long as you abide by the rules I set, I don’t see what harm it would do for you to have a hobby,” he conceded.

“Profession,” she corrected. “And what are these supposed rules of yours?”

He told himself to tread with caution.

“Your safety must come first, for one. Although you did uncover a useful piece of information today,” he said, noting how she instantly beamed with pleasure, “you also placed yourself at great risk. I’ll not tolerate such recklessness.”

Her smile faded. When she spoke, her words were surprisingly candid.

“You’re right. I did get rather carried away by events,” she said, her expression abashed. “For a moment back there, I feared I was in over my head.”

“You’ll not risk your neck like that again,” he said sternly. “You’re too important.”

“I ... am?”

At the shy yearning in her look, his heart gave an erratic beat. He calmed it. It wouldn’t do to be controlled by sentimentality. “Certainly. You are the mother of my future heirs.”

“Oh.” She blinked, then shook her head. “You speak as if it’s a fait accompli. It’s not.”

“Tell me how to make it so,” he said with steely determination.

“Shouldn’t we get to know one another better before making a permanent decision?”

To his mind, the decision was made. But if he went head-to-head with her, she’d only dig her heels in more. If she needed time to reach the inevitable conclusion, then so be it.

“I’ll court you,” he said decisively. “How long?”

“I don’t know.” She nibbled on her lip. “Until we’re certain that we’re suited?”

“If you still need convincing after what just happened at Marieur’s, I would be happy to provide another demonstration. I can still taste your honey, pet, and already I hunger for more.”

Her cheeks turned a charming shade of pink. “You oughtn’t say such things.”

“Why not? You’re the one who’s always insisting that I tell the truth.”

“Not about that.” She huffed out a breath. “The point is that there is more to a relationship than physical intimacy. We hardly know one another. We come from different backgrounds, have differing views on marriage and—”

“Tell me how your views differ from mine.”

Her lips pursed. “I believe in fidelity, for one.”

“Agreed. Next.”

“Wait—that’s it? Don’t you want to discuss the issue?”

“What is there to discuss? There will be no other man for you. And I’ll be so busy attending to your pleasure,”—he lifted his brows—“that I won’t have time for anyone else.”

She flushed. “You would be faithful to your vows. Truly?”

She’d obviously heard the rumors about his first marriage. Bitterness rose, yet he told himself that Laura was in his past. His future would be different; he would make it so.

“I was a faithful husband,” he said coolly, “regardless of what you may have heard.”

“Your first marriage ... what was it like?” she asked tentatively.

He didn’t want to talk about his mistakes. Didn’t want the trail of filth to follow him into the present. Yet he knew that in order to gain Emma’s trust, he had to give her something.

“I was young and foolish when I met Laura, taken in by her beauty and charm. I married her after a whirlwind courtship. Our marriage was not a happy one.”

The understatement of the century.

“Why weren’t you happy?”

His jaw tautened. “Laura and I did not suit, let’s leave it at that. But I was faithful until the day she died. God knows I’ve been no saint since, but when I marry again, I intend to honor my vows.” For some reason, he heard himself ask, “Do you believe me?”

After a moment, Emma gave a brisk nod. “Yes.”

“Just like that?”

“You are arrogant, controlling, and manipulative at times. As far as I can tell, however, you’ve never lied to me.”

Unexpected relief ballooned in him. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“You’re welcome. And ... I’m sorry.”

He tensed. “I don’t want your pity, Emma.”

“There’s a difference between pity and empathy. I don’t feel sorry for you—I’m sorry that you had an experience that sounds dreadful.”

“It’s over and so is this conversation.” He wasn’t about to tell her the worst part—his unforgivable disloyalty to Will. He wouldn’t risk exposing his faults any more than necessary.

She wrinkled her nose. “That speaks to another difference between us. I won’t be dictated to. Any marriage that I’ll be a part of will be based on mutual respect.”

“Again, I see no problem.”

“How can you say that?” she said incredulously. “You want a wife who will submit to you without question. Whereas I am an independent woman who knows her own mind, who has opinions and won’t be ordered about willy-nilly—”

“Will you deceive me, Emma? Betray me in any way?”

She frowned. “No. Of course not.”

“Then we’ll work on the rest.”

“People don’t change that much,” she said dubiously. “I don’t see me getting any less independent—or you any less domineering.”

“I don’t hear you complaining about that when we make love. When you’re in my arms, you surrender so sweetly,” he murmured. “As if you’ll give me anything I ask.”

A painful flush stole over her cheeks. “I’m not weak,” she blurted.

He looked at her in surprise. “No, you aren’t. Why would you think it?”

“Because of what you just said. What happens when we’re together. I don’t know what comes over me, but truly I am not subservient or weak-willed ...”

The crux of what was troubling her dawned upon him. Staring at her embarrassed, wide-eyed expression, he was filled with equal parts desire ... and tenderness. With all his jaded experience, he’d forgotten that true innocence existed.

“Come here,” he ordered softly, patting his lap.

He saw the way her muscles quivered to obey even as her mind resisted. She scooted back against her side of the bench. “No, we should talk about this.”

To preclude further argument, he simply reached over and scooped her onto his lap. Delightful as her squirming was, he stilled it by tightening his arms around her. “Submitting to me doesn’t make you weak,” he told her. “On the contrary, it takes a strong, spirited woman to give me what you do.”

She stopped struggling. “It does?”

“Aye.” He brushed his knuckles against her silky, flushed cheek. “Your surrender is potent because of your strength. Because I know what you’re trusting me with,” he said huskily. “Besides, outside of lovemaking, I know you’ll go on doing as you please.”

Her brow puckered. “My being headstrong doesn’t bother you?”

“Aye, it does—but it also excites and arouses me.” Deliberately, he pressed her down against his erection, and her color heightened even further. “The same way my arrogance excites and arouses you.”

She bit her lip. “This is all very confusing.”

The carriage was slowing; they were nearly at her home. Time to push his advantage. “So let me court you. We’ll explore this together, so you won’t be afraid of the passion that burns between us.” He nipped her ear. “Give me your answer. Say you’ll let me woo you, sweeting.”

A tremor passed through her. “I will ... on one condition.”

He ought to have expected as much. “What is it?”

“If I respect your rules, you’ll let me help with your investigation where it’s safe to do so. Please, Alaric,” she said earnestly, “I can’t stand by and do nothing when your life is at risk.”

If he refused, she’d go ahead and do it anyway. Better to contain a fire than be burned by it.

“Agreed—as long as you’ll be guided by me. I mean it, Emma,” he said with emphasis. “No more harrying about on your own.”

She nodded happily. “We have a bargain—”

The sudden wrenching open of the carriage door cut her off. The sun hit Alaric’s face, its blaze nothing compared to the fury in the newcomer’s gaze.

Emma’s brother leaned in, his expression livid.

“What the devil is going on here?” Kent demanded.