Page 42 of Their Master

She must consent to cutting her hair, shaving her body, bathing twice each day, and using only the grooming products provided. He disliked perfume, cosmetics, and a list of other toiletries.

The contract was mind-boggling in its complexity.

But there were two paragraphs that stood out from all the rest.

First, there would be no leaving before the year was over. Even if she repudiated their arrangement and forbade him to touch her again—yes, he’d reserved that right for her—she would have to remain under his roof until the year was over.

Second, any child conceived during their time together would live with him—always.

Of course, women and their offspring were the property of their husbands, so that was not especially shocking. But he wouldnotbe her husband, so how could such a thing be legal?

Moira suspected that when a man was as wealthy and powerful Mr. Smith that legality became fluid.

Even though she knew their union would not last long enough for any of this to be an issue—and she would see to it that there wasnochild—it still left her on edge to sign away such significant rights.

But she had no other choice.

She glanced up from the document.

Smith hadn’t left the room while she read but was seated at his desk, working on the ledger

He was looking at his work, rather than her, and she took the rare opportunity to study him unobserved.

Surprisingly, Smith wore spectacles to read. Rather than make him look weak—as her father had always claimed, refusing to wear his glasses, even though it meant he could hardly read—he looked intimidating with a frown of concentration on his face.

Seeing him this way made Moira realize that he was rarely without a smile curving his lips. A teasing smile, a sensual smile, a dangerous smile, and a half dozen others flickered through her mind.

Along with those smiles came other memories: his naked body sweaty and flexing above or beneath her; the almost satanic expression on his face when he stimulated her to orgasm—or deprived her of one—and his dark, fiercely possessive gaze when he spent inside her.

The resulting heat from that erotic montage wasn’t surprising; after all, the man had given as much pleasure as he’d taken, unprecedented behavior in her experience.

By signing the contract, Moira had guaranteed that he would continue to provide her with sexual pleasure—not to mention a luxurious home, wardrobe, money, and a future that was free from want and fear.

And a child.

Moira shook her head, her heart speeding.No. No child.

You could accept his offer and forget about Marie and the Comte’s plans and—

But that was the sticking point: Moira couldnever forget that Smith had killed her sister.

So, no. She couldn’t simply sign the contract and live happily ever after.

You could always ask him what happened.

Moira scoffed at the insidious voice.And end up as dead as my sister?

Smith must have felt the weight of her gaze because he looked up, his intense concentration dissolving and his pleasant mask shifting subtly back into place, a querying smile curving his lips. “Finished?”

“I have one question.”

He replaced the pen in its holder, removed his glasses, and closed the ledger. “Yes?”

“It’s about paragraph twelve.”

“I remember the paragraph. Go on.”

“You say you would want the child to live with you. For what purpose?”

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