13

“However, it’s not for you, I can see that,” he murmured, because now that he’d piqued her interest it was time to send her on her way to think about it. “Your father must be waiting for you. Please don’t allow me to keep you.”

Anna stared at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing. Some part of her might be aware that he was playing her, but, since he wasn’t forcing her into anything, she wouldn’t be able to tell how. But he couldn’t force this anyway. It would have to be her choice. And if she doesn’t choose you?

She would choose him. It was inevitable. He’d weighted the dice and they would fall in his favor. He would make sure of it.

After a second’s hesitation, Anna pushed herself out of the armchair and walked hesitantly to the door of the room. He didn’t take his eyes off her, watching her the whole way, allowing some of the heat their chemistry generated to flood the space between them in case she needed a reminder that it wasn’t only money he could give her.

She paused beside him, no sign of a flush in her cheeks now. Her eyes had lost that smoky, molten look, glittering like hard little jewels. She’d cooled, a volcano gone dormant.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry in the least. “But I can’t give you what you want.” she told him.

“I understand. Like I said, I have plenty of options.” Cedric held out his hand to her. “Thank you for coming.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Anna gave it to him, which was a mistake she’d surely kick herself for later. Because he took it in his and turned it over, laying a kiss in the middle of her palm. Her breath caught, sparks flickering in her eyes. So, the volcano wasn’t quite as dormant as he thought.

He was tempted to lengthen the moment, intensify it. But everything was so finely balanced that he didn’t want to push. So he let go of her hand before she’d even opened her mouth to protest. “Goodbye, Anna,” he said, and stepped back.

She looked as if she wanted to say something, but then, clearly thinking better of it, she only murmured, “Goodbye, Your Grace,” and went out.

Cedric closed the door behind her.

And smiled.

_____________

Anna stood in front of the dusty fireplace in the living room, unclasping then reclasping her hands, trying to stay calm. She hadn’t thought this would be so hard, and yet with her father sitting there in his usual chair, the tea she’d made him sitting on the table beside him untouched, that disapproving, cold stare on his face, she found it was more difficult than she’d expected.

She’d just finished telling him about her meeting with the Duke the night before, and what the offer had been. And then how she’d flatly refused, because she’d had to. Of course she had to. Because it wasn’t a ‘business arrangement’ after all. No, the Duke wanted them to conceive his child naturally, and she couldn’t do that. She just…couldn’t.

Especially not after reading everything that had turned up in the internet search she’d done the night before as soon as she’d got home.

Cedric Blackwood, the Seventh Duke of Springbrook, appeared to be a notorious playboy, and had the reputation to prove it. Which, honestly, did not surprise her.

That he was also the head of a worldwide, high-risk venture-capital firm did. She knew next to nothing about playboys, but had always assumed that they cared more about parties than they did about business, though it seemed that the Duke of Springbrook was an exception.

Then again, given his behaviour the night before and what she knew about him now, that shouldn’t be a surprise either. He was clearly a man used to negotiation, used to driving a hard bargain, and being utterly ruthless about it. He was certainly a man used to getting his own way.

He’d used those business tactics on her and she’d been well aware of it at the time. Letting her know that she was his first choice, and yet being clear that he had other options. Before putting her off-balance by ending the meeting before she was ready.

A little reverse psychology, of course. If she’d been thinking straight, she would have given him a dose of his own medicine. But she hadn’t been thinking straight. She’d been shocked and angry and overwhelmed, and he’d taken advantage of that shamelessly. It made her want to refuse him out of sheer principle.

But that her father would never understand. She hoped he’d understand her caveats about the ‘natural conception’ proposal, but, judging from the way he was looking at her, it was clear he didn’t understand that either.

“What exactly is the nature of the problem, Anna?” he asked coldly. “Is it the…physical interaction?”

Heat burned in her cheeks. She didn’t want to be having this discussion with her father, but there was no help for it. He’d been in bed by the time she’d got home the night before, which had given her a brief reprieve, but this morning the first thing he’d wanted to know was how it had gone. And now, why she’d refused.

“Dad, please,” she said repressively. “Do I really need to go into detail?”

But her father’s sharp, dark stare was unavoidable. “You’re assigning emotion to what is essentially a bodily function, Anna. There’s no need for embarrassment, just as there’s no need to make a fuss about it. It’s also no reason to refuse his very generous offer.”

Her heart was beating very fast and her palms were sweaty, and she felt the almost impossible-to-ignore urge to move, to pace up and down, get this agitation out somehow. It reminded her of being a little girl again, full of that insatiable, hungry energy that made it very difficult for her to sit still. That little girl who felt everything so deeply—too deeply. The little girl whose demands used to annoy her father so much he would lock her out of the house for the entire day.

No wonder he was looking at her now with such disapproval. Anna's jaw ached with the effort it took to force away her agitation, to stiffen herself into rigidity so she wouldn’t fidget.