Chapter 10

She knew exactly why he scratched his head. Their love-making had been torrid. It had been sensual. It had been shaming. And it had been absent of any affection.

Certainly on his part. Why would a kiss be a sign of anything? To him anyway. She was the damn fool who'd once thought it had been. Who even now was forced to concede the pleasure it would be to take her hand sharply across his face to assist his understanding of her feelings. The impertinence of the damn man, the stinging ignorance.

"It just is." She eased the distance between them a whisper. "So there will be none. Not now. Not at all."

"All right then. Saves time. It means "

"Rule two." She saw his eyes freeze as he readied himself to yank off his shirt. She persisted anyway. Why not? In many ways she walked a tightrope here. If she paused, it might be to her detriment. And this? This could be a payback. Think of the fun she could have teaching him a thing or ten. "You will be fully dressed at all times."

"What? How the hell am I meant to "

"I am sure you will manage. You managed plenty before. But I do not desire to look at your body before, during, or after. Nor in any shape or form wandering about this house in just your breeches. Is that understood?"

His dropped his hands from his shirt and glared, so he must have. "You wanted to look at it plenty before. In fact, it makes my head spin, just how often you "

"Rule three." Clasping her fingers around the cool edge of the dressing table to create another inch of distance, she continued.

"Rule three? You mean there's more?"

"I will not touch you in any place, intimate or otherwise. I will lie. You will perform."

Oh, this new Flint this new Flint couldn't make sense of what he heard. Because of course, the old Flint had hands of velvet and a body of silk. He knew how to please and he enjoyed being pleased. He should, the lovers he'd had. That damned bed of his had already been warm when he had blackmailed her into it.

The new Flint could only stand there breathing heavily, looking as if he wanted to strike her. Something the old Flint had looked as if he wanted to do on occasion too, although he'd never carried through on it.

"I realize that, of course, you may have to touch me. But rule four you will do so as little as humanly possible."

"What?"

"Yes, offering no pleasure. This is a business arrangement. A simple in and out will suffice, with no talking, no exclaiming, no use of any obscene language rule five."

"I never used any obscene language."

She raised her chin. "Endearments would be obscene, should you think of uttering any. Not that you ever did, mind."

"Hell, I was a pirate captain, not some fancy, dressed-up buffoon with pompoms on his shoes."

"Afterward rule six you will remove yourself in all respects and wait until, rule seven, you are summoned again. I trust I am making myself clear. But in case there is something in what I have said that is hard to understand, I have set the terms down here in black and white for you to read rule eight and sign rule nine so there can be no misunderstanding, resulting in a breach of this agreement rule ten."

After his performance on the staircase when he'd pushed her against the bannister and the way he loomed now, she braced as she squeezed around him to seize the paper. Although, really, the man was at a disadvantage. No matter how he had strode across the floor and tried to impose himself like before, he fooled nobody.

"This is going to be so much fun. I confess I can hardly wait." She picked up the pen. "We will start as soon as you have signed it. And it has been witnessed rule eleven."

He shifted his lips into a sardonic twist. "So, what's rule twelve? You going to call the household in to witness this simple in and out?"

"What a ghastly proposition. No. I've not thought of that yet, but it will be something to mull over when we're I think you've described it rather well. I have to say you're learning fast. I'm impressed."

His hand descended on the paper, and she thought he would crush it. Indeed, she waited with unashamed longing for him to do so. She wanted to think she'd needled him, although the fuse with Flint always burnt slower than a fire in the Arctic wastes.

"Very generous." His blue gaze burned as he studied her. "You think I don't know what your little game is here, sweetheart? If it had been Malmesbury or what's his name "

She faced him. "If you mean Vellagio or Southey, not at all. There would be rules for anyone doing this. Some a little different, it is true. The siring of the Beaumont heir is not to be taken lightly. May I remind you, you asked."

"Hmm." His gaze dropped to the paper, and he squared his jaw. "What's this rule four, a simple in and out? How am I meant to do that if you're not "

"I will use a cream." A faint blush crept over her cheekbones. Trust Flint to think of something so basic. It did, however, please her to see him so docile. Almost as much as it would have pleased her to see him needled. Slow to burn or not, he'd accept this, even if he seethed.

"After all, I wouldn't like to make it difficult for you or suffer more in your embrace than necessary." She smiled and tilted her jaw. "Why don't you just make your mark on the paper so we can how was it you put it again get to it?" She tossed him the pen.

He caught it and stared, for a long brittle moment. Then with an abrupt movement he tossed it on the floor, where it clattered and rolled, blobbing ink across the tiles. Wordless, he walked to the end of the dressing table and held the paper in the candle flame. It blazed and she watched as black cinders showered, like so many dead moths, onto the marble surface of the table.

"What what do you think you're doing?"

"What you said. Making my mark. Now, that's your terms. Here's mine."