Page 18 of Trade of a Lifetime (Trade Wind 1)

He’d spoken words he knew would shock or offend, yet Clara surprised him.

Her eyes softened with growing compassion.

Not needing her pity, he sought her ire instead. “You’re unmarried yet live alone. You’re a beautiful woman with a great deal of passion.” He shrugged. “What else could I conclude but that you take lovers as a pastime?”

She laughed hoarsely. “If I could choose a…lover”—her already flushed cheeks burned ever more—“I would choose you.” This time it was she who approached him, speaking so quietly he strained to catch her words. “Know that. But I cannot.”

“Youcanchoose me.”

“You don’t know what you are asking!”

“Oh, aye, I ken. At least, I imagine what it would be like between us.” He pressed on in a softer tone. “I’ll take care during your first time, Lady Clara. Your every time.”

“I can’t—for so many reasons. And not only because of our…differences,” she alluded to their social stations. “I simply cannot do that to my brother.”

“He need never know.” God knew he didn’t want to think of that infernal man and this heavenly woman in the same day!

She averted her gaze. “We’re notanimals. We have the ability—dare I say responsibility—to form our thoughts so as to control the…body.” She whispered the last word, as if it was difficult to utter.

“You think me an animal, then, of the low-born variety. Even worse, a Scottish animal.”

“Still your tongue against further aspersions on my character! You’re not an animal because you’re Scottish, nor because you’re of a lower class. It is yourbehaviorright now that renders you animal-like!”

He closed his eyes.She isn’t wrong.

He felt like a beast, overwhelmed by the scent of his mate to the point of single-mindedness.

This is no way to seduce a lass, ye fool.

“I apologize for my poor behavior,” said James sincerely. “You’re right.”

He took one step closer to her. “Can’t you see how much better it will be with an animal such as I? I’m not a proper Englishman who’ll spread your legs in complete darkness, still clothed. If I come to your bed, you’ll know what it is to be with someone who dedicates everything he has to your pleasure. Who brings you ecstasy before he seeks his own.”

She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “How I wish…” After a fortifying breath, she dropped her hands, shaking her head. “I’m sorry.”

Bewildered, James watched as she wiped her expression clean. Then she called out, “Loudon!”

Footsteps ran to the door; it jerked open.

“Mr. Robertson is leaving,” she announced in a haughty, if fractured, voice.

Her cheeks flushed prettily. Tendrils of hair escaped her bun. She struggled to control her breathing, he noted with grim satisfaction. His boots wouldn’t move as he took in these last signs of her desire, of hope.

The longing in her gaze built, but so too did her visible regret.

James had his answer, whether or not he liked it. “If I leave, I’m not coming back. Not even for you.”

She didn’t look pleased, but she nodded her understanding. Her eyes showed him the door and didn’t look back.

A footman waited next to the front door with his overcoat in hand. By the time James snatched it, the butler opened the door.

For once, he applauded English efficiency, and without a backward glance, he marched to his waiting carriage.

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