Page 84 of A Treacherous Trade
“Would I?”
A rare genuine smile touched lips, devoid of sarcasm or cynicism. “I have women who would crawl into the cage and lock it behind them. They would sing whatever song I wished and dance however long I desired. But not you, Fiona.” He inched forward. “I have learned that getting what I want is often not better than imagining what it could be. But I have a feeling…”
“I kissed Night Horse.”
His eyes flew open, and he straightened as if he’d been struck. “What?”
Heart still pounding, I groped for an explanation. “He asked me to—paid me to—while I was at The Orchard. He said no other woman would kiss him, and that he would help me in my investigation if I did… and that felt sort of sad, but also helpful. So I did it. And—I thought you should know that in case that—changes anything. Because you two are—well, what you are to each other. And we are… whatever we are. Which isn’t—um…”
If there was one thing I always hated about myself, it was my tendency to babble utter nonsense when I was anxious. Silence became the enemy, when in reality it should be my friend.
“I don’t know why I told you just now,” I said, wringing my hands. “But I suddenly thought you should know. Or wondered what would happen if youdidn’tknow. And then we—Before you found out, and—”
A frightening darkness passed across his features but disappeared when he blinked. There and gone so quickly, I wondered if I’d imagined it. “Despite what I just admitted, you arenotmy concubine and I’m not your confessor. Should I be telling you what I did only last night and with whom? Is that knowledge you want to have?”
“Categorically not.”
“Then…” He seemed to cast about for words, which was so odd for someone full of such inexhaustible wit. “What you and Night Horse get up to is no business of mine.”
“All right.” I sat back. “Well. Then… good.”
“Do you have an understanding between the two of you?” he asked softly.
“A what?”
“An understanding,” he repeated. “A contract.”
“Contract?” My brows drew together. “Why would I—”
“Because it’s how these things are done, Fiona.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Goddamn every Catholic saint, must you be so naïve? You need papers between you so the terms are clear. So you are protected. I would never think of taking a mistress unless—”
“Mistress?” I shrilled. “Are you joking? Night Horse and I are ‘up to’ exactly nothing. I haven’t seen him since that one kiss, and I don’t intend to—to do anything else with him.” I wagged my finger at him like a scolding schoolmistress. “And any… carnal relations I might have in the future certainly wouldnothave paperwork involved.”
“You mean to say you’ll never marry?”
At that, my mind went blank. “Well, I—I never said that.”
“Marriage is paperwork,” he informed me with a bland sigh. “It’s little better than a business contract that will take away all of your freedom and property and give it to a man for breeding rights. The contracts I draw up are better, kinder, transactional rather than proprietorial. The rights, privileges, and futures of the women are protected.”
“I’m glad for them,” I said icily, crossing my arms over my middle. “These women who are contractually obligated to you, and you to them. I’m sure it’s mutually beneficial to all involved.”
“It is,” he said.
“Good.”
“Then why do you seem agitated?”
WhywasI agitated?
Likely because for a second, he’d held me in some sort of thrall. He’d made that cage sound strangely appealing, so long as he was ensconced inside it with me. A man had never been so oblique and brazen at the same time. Never had anyone wanted me so… honestly.
Not even Aidan.
And I supposed I didn’t realize it was a contract with terms Jorah had been offering this whole time. That any sort of passion we felt would be interrupted by bouts of legal jargon and rules as written and agreed upon beforehand.
I could think of nothing less erotic.
Nothing more contemptuous.
