Panic seized her. “Tendaysfrom now? How can I prepare for such an event in so short a time? I will need a gown made and shoes to match and—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll provide all of that.”
She drew herself up stiffly. “You will not! I’ll have you know, sir, that my mother and I do possess money.”
He held up his hands. “Forgive me, I wasn’t trying to insult you. I just thought that since you are doing me a favor—”
“As you are doing one for me,” she said with a sniff. “Therefore, I will buy my own attire, thank you. I will not have you treat me like your kept woman. Bad enough I must pretend to be your fiancée.”
“‘Bad enough’?” He struck his chest playfully with his fist. “Wound me to the heart, why don’t you? Surely playing my fiancée will not be the torture you seem to think.”
He had no idea. Being around him when he was at his most flirtatious? Knowing he would never actually marry a woman like her? Keeping herself aloof so he did not exert himself to charm her?
Not letting her old infatuation with him rear its ugly head? It would be pure misery. “We shall see,” she murmured.
His face lit up. “Does that mean you agree to my proposal?” He approached to take her hands in his. “You’ll play my pretend fiancée, so I can get custody of my brothers?”
“Will you try to acquire legitimate papers for me and Maman?”
“Of course. That is the arrangement.”
His gaze was so intense, so devouring that she had to look away, though she still left her hands in his.
She knew she would agree. What choice did she have? She could not risk being thrown out of England and back into the cauldron of torn fealties and confused government that was France at present. She and Maman needed peace.
Even if they had to stay in England to get it. Even if she had to spend far too much time in his company for her sanity.
Reluctantly, she met his gaze once more. “I think your whole plan is mad, and I fear it will suit neither of us and possibly not serve our aims, either. But …”
He caught his breath when she didn’t finish. “But what?”
“Yes. I agree to your preposterous proposal.”
To her shock, he let out a boyish whoop, grabbed her at the waist, and lifted her off her feet to swing her about.
“Lord Heathbrook!” She pushed at his shoulders, which did not seem to faze him. “Put me down at once!”
“Right,” he said, and lowered her, although rather slowly.
Mon Dieu,but he was stronger than she had realized. She could feel his shoulder muscles flex even beneath his coat. By the timeher feet touched the floor, her heart was racing, and she could not seem to release his shoulders.
Meanwhile, he kept his hands on her waist. “Forgive me, Miss Bernard,” he said in a husky voice that shook her resolve to resist him. “I got carried away.”
“You seem to make a habit of that,” she managed to murmur, her own voice sounding oddly breathless.
Now they stood so close she could smell his clove-scented cologne. He dropped his gaze to her lips. “Perhaps we should do something to seal our agreement.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Is … is that really necessary?”
“It would make it official.”
“We could shake hands,” she could not help teasing him. “Is that not what gentlemen do?”
His eyes gleamed at her. “Ah, but to seal a betrothal agreement requires something a bit more … personal. A kiss perhaps.”
“I see.” She managed a weak smile. “It is not as if we have not kissed before.”
A harsh breath escaped him. “You remember,” he said in a ragged voice.