He was enormous in the quiet space. “More than money, Hattie.”
She cleared her throat. “The deal is for money. Money and your knives.”
She regretted the words as soon as they were out, his amber gaze on the leather braces crisscrossing her chest making her wish she hadn’t removed her shawl.
“Then it isn’t a deal,” he said. “A deal implies that I get something in return. So, I ask again. What do I get from this deal that is so far simply a repayment of funds and a return of goods thieved, with no assurance that your company will avoid interaction with my businesses in the future?”
Your company. She didn’t miss the words, smooth and certain on his tongue. Didn’t miss the pleasure of them rioting through her—hers. She was so close to it all. The future she’d always wanted. She wouldn’t let him take it from her. “You have my assurance.”
“And I am to believe your father wouldn’t repeat himself when he decides he needs money again?”
Defensiveness flared. “It wasn’t my father.” He did not react to the words. She narrowed her gaze on him. “But you know that.”
“Tell me why you protect the truth.”
Because he’s my only chance at the business. That had been the deal with Augie. She made this disappear, she kept him safe, and he would tell Father to give her the business.
Everything was on the line. And this man—his acceptance of her offered arrangement—was all that stood between her and her future. But if she told him that, he would hold all the power. And she couldn’t allow that.
So, she stayed silent.
He closed the distance between them with predatory grace that would have set any number of men on edge. And it did set her on edge as he lifted a hand, reaching for her. Her breath caught in her throat. What would he do? Would he touch her?
He didn’t touch her. Instead, he set a single finger to the thick leather strap at her shoulder, the one leading down to his knives, tracing it with barely-there pressure. “Tell me why he gave you my knives and sent you into my world.”
The touch traveled lower and lower, over the ribs of the blades seated deep in their leather scabbards. Her breath came harsh as he followed the second strap, the one that crossed beneath her breasts, over the buckle connecting one half of the holster to the other.
“Tell me why he sent you to me, like a sacrifice.” His touch lingered on the brass, his thumb coming to stroke over it once, twice. On the third pass, his fingers splayed over her torso, and she simultaneously craved and feared the caress—at once hinting at immense pleasure and hot embarrassment. After all, Hattie was not exactly lean, and there, where leather crossed her body, there was a swell of flesh that she would prefer he not notice.
She took a step back, hating the loss of his touch even as she found the breath that had been impossible for her to catch. She lifted her chin, drawing strength from the cool oak door behind her. She willed her voice firm. “He didn’t send me anywhere. I am the heroine of my own play, sir.”
“Mmm. A warrior in your own right.” He advanced, his nearness pressing her more firmly into the door. “So it is you who offers me these poor terms. Money that was mine to begin with and none of the retribution I intended to exact.”
“Retribution is a silly goal,” she said. “It’s intangible. It’s air.”
“Mmm.” The low rumble of assent was at her ear, so close she imagined she could feel the breath of it on her skin. “Just like air. Essential. Vital. Life-giving.”
She leaned away at that, twisting to see his eyes, cursing the darkness in the dimly lit room. “Do you believe that?”
He was silent long enough for her to believe he might not reply. And then he replied, soft and dark, “I believe that we spend all our lives fighting for our due. Air or otherwise.”
The words struck true. Lord knew Hattie had spent her fair time doing just that. Fighting for autonomy, for future, for her father’s approval and her family’s business. She’d been born a woman in a man’s world, and spent her entire life battling for a place in it. Desperate to prove herself worthy of it.
But this man—when he spoke of fighting for air—Hattie did not think he was speaking in metaphors.
Unable to stop herself, she lifted a hand and, moving slowly enough that he could stop her if he wished, she set her palm to his cheek, the warmth of it searing through her glove as the rough day’s growth of his beard caught on the soft kidskin. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
It was the wrong thing to say. The muscles of his jaw tightened and his entire body turned to steel. She dropped her hand the moment he caught her gaze in his. “You suggest I wait for my funds to be returned, just as I wait now, for my knives to be so. Just as I was to wait last night—for the culmination of the arrangement we made.”
The agreement that he would take her virginity. That he would ruin her for all others. She didn’t need it now. Not if Augie was going to support her bid to run her father’s business. She didn’t need him or ruination.
But she wanted it. At this man’s skilled hands.
Her gaze dropped to the hands in question, fingers loosely curled as though, at any moment, he might have to do battle. She remembered the feel of those fingers on her skin. The rough calluses on his palms. The way they set her aflame.
She wanted them again.
“I don’t care for waiting, Lady Henrietta.” The low words, spoken a breath from her ear, sent heat coiling through her. “So let me ask again. What do I get from your deal?”
Last night, it had all seemed so simple. He’d agreed—albeit under duress—to take her virginity in exchange for his missing items. But last night, Hattie hadn’t known the missing items included forty thousand pounds in smuggled goods.
Dammit, Augie.
And now—she knew she lacked both leverage and power. This man called Beast somehow did not need the funds her brother had stolen, and he did not require the goods that had been parceled off to wherever they’d been sent. This was not about reimbursement, but about restitution. And that made him more benefactor than business partner.
Which meant Hattie had no choice but to surrender everything for the sake of the business. For the sake of her family. She took a deep breath and met Beast’s gaze, and sacrificed her only desire—a desire she hadn’t known she had until the night before. “I release you from last night’s negotiation.”
He remained silent, revealing nothing of his thoughts.
Did he even understand?
“My—” Hattie waved a hand. “Affliction.”
A dark brow rose.
“My virginity.”
Again, no reply.
He was going to make her say it. Lord knew Hattie had said it before. But did she have to say it to him? To this man who’d kissed her and made her feel like he wished it? “I understand that such an event . . . with me . . . is not exactly . . .” Ugh. This was awful. “I know you were being kind. Offering. But you needn’t—that is—I am well aware of the kind of woman I am. Equally so, the kind of woman I am not. And the kind of man you are . . . well, you prefer the kind of woman I am not.”
She closed her eyes tightly, willing him to disappear. When she opened them, he was, sadly, still there, still as stone. Which was unbearable.