Page 5 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
His lips parted, but no sound emerged.
Ellie found herself watching those lips.
She told herself it was because she was curious—desperately anxious, more like—to hear his response, but she was afraid it might be for another reason altogether.
He really had the most beautiful lips, did he not?
Whereas other men—her sister’s husband, her father—wore thick beards, Fawkes MacMillan’s jaw and upper lip were covered in a stubble as if he’d forgotten to shave yesterday, and possibly the day before.
She was surprised to discover she wanted tofeelit.
“Mr. MacMillan, I realize this is a bit unorthodox—”
His snort caught her by surprise, and the man actually turned away. He turned away from her without closing the door in her face, which she took to be a good sign, before tossing the dagger atop a small table by the door.
It wasn’t exactly an invitation, but he hadn’t sent her away. And he didn’t deem her enough of a threat to stay armed.
Ellie hesitated only a moment before crossing the threshold, and then she wasinsidehis flat. A man’s flat. An unmarried man’s living space.
A man whom she’d just propositioned.Oh dear.
“Miss Ellie,” he said without looking at her, “who sent ye? Dunton? Peck?”
“I-I do not know who those people are.” She closed the door softly behind her, and only then allowed her breath to release. She was really doing this.
“Bishop? Auld Gus, the barkeep at The One Ball?”
“Why would a barkeep send me here?”
His chuckle wasn’t pleasant, sounding resigned as he scrubbed his hand over his face. When he turned back to her there was something like anger flashing in his eyes, and for the first time, in the light of the single lamp, she saw they were a beautiful deep green. Aflashinggreen, which should have been impossible, but somehow accentuated his auburn hair and the harsh lines of his jaw.
“Because,Ellie, any one of those bastards would like to see me dangle. Anything to hold over my head, a cause to owe them favors.”
This didn’t make sense. Who were those men? “And me being here would be that cause?”
“Meimpregnatinga bonnie stranger who showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night with her pretty eyes and her soft lips, looking like a whore and sounding like a lady…” He shook his head and turned away. “Thatwould be their cause.”
He thought she had pretty eyes?
He thinks you look like a whore.
Well, yes, that was a tad rude, but the pretty eye thing was rather lovely, wasn’t it?
It does not matter what he thinks of your appearance. It does not matter if he is kind or handsome. All that matters is that he can perform the task required.
Yes, wherethe task requiredmeant making love to her in the hopes of conceiving.
Do not mislead yourself. What you will be doing with this man is mere sex.
“Where’s yer escort, lass?”
She was jolted from her inner argument—she’d found over the years that her subconscious could be a real irritation—to see him on the other side of the room. He was pouring an amber liquid from a decanter into a glass which, even from this distance, she could see was fine crystal.
“My driver is waiting outside, and agreed to circle the block at any sign of trouble,” she admitted, clasping her hands in front of her.
“Lady,” he snorted again, crossing to the window and flicking the curtains out of the way as if he could see anything in the darkness. “Whore.”
Since it wasn’t clear if he was talking to himself or to her, Ellie pressed her lips together and glanced about.
