Page 4 of Bride of the Fae Duke

Or perhaps the simple fact that he’d just invited her to join him in those sheets.

Which she wasn’t going to accept.

Ofcourseshe wasn’t going to accept.

‘In other words,’ Locke flatly continued from the other side of the room – and whether he hadn’t noticed her moment of confusion or simply didn’t care about it, she was twistedly grateful either way – ‘I need a wife to give me that heir. A wife who will stay alive for longer than a few months, that is.’

That was enough to instantly banish every heated thought from her mind again.

Because he spoke the words so matter-of-factly – not a sliver of emotion, as though the poor women had been remote acquaintances at best. Which stood to reason, Nellie sternly reminded herself. How would he have killed them, one after the other, if he had felt even the slightest bit of sympathy for them?

Although …

Her thoughts wavered.

Although thatwasodd, wasn’t it? Sure enough, she could imagine him as a killer – could see him calmly, meticulously pressing a pillow over a sleeping face at night. But if he needed an heir desperately enough to resort to marrying maids, then why would he have killed his previous wives at all? Shouldn’t he have restrained his murderous urges until one of them had born him a son or two?

That really did not add up at all. Not because of love and other fairytales but because of the stark, hard facts.

‘Oh,’ she said weakly – suspecting she ought to saysomethingin the mounting silence, but unable to come up with any more intelligent remarks as her thoughts folded in on themselves. ‘I … I see. And your previous wives …’

‘Were killed by my curse,’ he finished, upper lip curling a fraction. ‘Exactly.’

Hebelieved in a curse? Odd, for a man calling this a purely rational matter. Unless he was lying, of course, unless this was just a game to lure yet another unsuspecting woman into his bed – hell, perhaps he didn’t care about heirs at all. Perhaps he had told the other six the exact same thing, only to poison their tea or push them down the stairs three weeks later.

It really was about time she got herself out of here. Divines knew what tale he’d come up with next; if she wasn’t careful, she’d accidentally spin right into his trap.

‘With all due respect, Your Grace,’ she started, faltering for a moment as those strange grey eyes swept her way again, ‘but if a curse is killing everyone you marry … well, then it would be rather dangerous for me to accept your proposal, wouldn’t it?’

His mouth tightened. ‘Not for you.’

‘But …’

‘My curse,’ he interrupted, his voice not so much sharpening as tightening, ‘doesn’t kill my wives, per se. It kills those I fall in love with.’

She blinked at him.

‘So what I need is a wife with whom I have nothing in common. A wife who evokes no feelings or affections. A wife who will simply be a means to an end to me. In return, I am more than content to be the same to her.’ He paused for a moment – just long enough for those brisk words to settle – then added, more calmly now, ‘Let me be very frank with you, Miss Finch. This is not and will never be a love match. If you were hoping for a grand romance, then you’d do well to refuse me.’

This was her chance, then – wasn’t it?

He was offering her the perfect, graceful way out. A wide-open door, and all she needed to do was step through it.I’m sorry, Your Grace, but my heart belongs to the young footman next door– who cared it was a lie? Who cared her heart would never truly belong to anyone anyway, duke or otherwise?

And yet …

She wavered.

He seemed so uncannily straightforward, standing stiff and dispassionate between Lady Eyestone’s velvet couches. He sounded sosensible. A simple transaction and no attempts to soften or sweeten that blow – much better than the young men who made advances every now and then, spinning fairytales of a forever she knew did not exist.

Much, much better than Father, who had insisted he loved them until the very day the money ran out.

And when she opened her mouth, what came out was not a refusal. Instead, the words she heard herself speak through the whirlwind of her thoughts were, ‘Why me?’

‘Ah.’ The duke snapped back into motion, snappish strides across the polished floorboards. His ears were just a fraction pointed beneath his blue hair – she hadn’t known or noticed that before. ‘Excellent question. I came here to ask Radcliffe for advice. She was our housekeeper when I was a young boy, and there are few people whose judgement of character I trust more.’

It took a few seconds for that to register.

Mrs. Radcliffe hadrecommendedher? To this man? Knowing his history – knowing what he might be capable of?

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