Almost Heaven Read online

  “Certainly,” she flung back. “The agreement is off; I refuse the terms. The bargaining is over.”

  His lips twitched, but his voice was filled with finality. “Your uncle means to unload you and the expense of that house you love, and nothing is going to stop him. Without him, you cannot keep Havenhurst. He explained the situation to me in detail.”

  Despite the fact that she shook her head, Elizabeth knew it was true, and the sense of impending doom she’d been struggling with for weeks began to overwhelm her. “A husband is the only possible solution to your problems.”

  “Don’t you dare suggest a man as the solution for my troubles,” she cried. “You’re all the cause of them! My father gambled away the entire family fortune and left me in debt; my brother disappeared after getting me deeper in debt; you kissed me and destroyed my reputation; my fiancé left me at the first breath of a scandal you caused; and my uncle is trying to sell me! As far as I’m concerned,” she finished, spitting fire, “men make excellent dancing partners, but beyond that I have no use for the lot of you. You’re all quite detestable, actually, when one takes time to ponder it, which of course one rarely does, for it would only cause depression.”

  “Unfortunately, we’re the only alternative,” Ian pointed out. And because he would not give her up no matter what he had to do to keep her, he added, “In this case, I’m your only alternative. Your uncle and I have signed the betrothal contract, and the money has already changed hands. I am, however, willing to bargain with you on the terms.”

  “Why should you?” she said scornfully.

  Ian recognized in her answer the same hostility he found whenever he negotiated with any proud man who was being forced by circumstances, not by Ian, to sell something he wanted to keep. Like those men, Elizabeth felt powerless; and, like them, her pride alone would force her to retaliate by making the whole ordeal as difficult as possible for Ian.

  In a business matter, Ian certainly wouldn’t have ruined his own negotiating position by helping his opponent to see the value of what he held and the advantageous terms he might wring from Ian because of it. In Elizabeth’s case, however, Ian sought to do exactly that. “I’m willing to bargain with you,” he said gently, “for the same reason anyone tries to bargain—you have something I want.” Desperately trying to prove to her she wasn’t powerless or empty-handed, he added, “I want it badly, Elizabeth.”

  “What is it?” she asked warily, but much of the resentment in her lovely face was already being replaced by surprise.

  “This,” he whispered huskily. His hands tightened on her shoulders, pulling her close as he bent his head and took her soft mouth in a slow, compelling kiss, sensually molding and shaping her lips to his. Although she stubbornly refused to respond, he felt the rigidity leaving her, and as soon as it did, Ian showed her just how badly he wanted it. His arms went around her, crushing her to him, his mouth moving against hers with hungry urgency, his hands shifting possessively over her spine and hips, fitting her to his hardened length. Dragging his mouth from hers, he drew an unsteady breath. “Very badly,” he whispered.

  Lifting his head, he gazed down at her, noting the telltale flush on her cheeks, the soft confusion in her searching green gaze, and the delicate hand she’d forgotten was resting against his chest. Keeping his own hand splayed against her lower back, he held her pressed to his rigid erection, torturing himself as he slid his knuckles against her cheek and quietly said, “For that privilege, and the others that follow it, I’m willing to agree to any reasonable terms you state. And I’ll even forewarn you,” he said with a tender smile at her upturned face, “I’m not a miserly man, nor a poor one.”

  Elizabeth swallowed, trying to keep her voice from shaking in reaction to his kiss. “What other privileges that follow kissing?” she asked suspiciously.

  The question left him nonplussed. “Those that involve the creation of children,” he said, studying her face curiously. “I want several of them—with your complete cooperation, of course,” he added, suppressing a smile.

  “Of course,” she conceded without a second’s hesitation. “I like children, too, very much.”

  Ian stopped while he was ahead, deciding it was wiser not to question his good fortune. Evidently Elizabeth had a very frank attitude toward marital sex—rather an unusual thing for a sheltered, well-bred English girl.

  “What are your terms?” he asked, and he made a final effort to tip the balance of power into her hands and out of his by adding, “I’m scarcely in a position to argue.”

  Elizabeth hesitated and then slowly began stating her terms: “I want to be allowed to look after Havenhurst without interference or criticism.”

  “Done,” he agreed with alacrity while relief and delight built apace in him.

  “And I’d like a stipulated amount set aside for that and given to me once each year. In return, the estate, once I’ve arranged for irrigation, will repay your loan with interest.”

  “Agreed,” Ian said smoothly. Elizabeth hesitated, wondering if he could afford it, half-embarrassed that she’d mentioned it without knowing more about his circumstances. He’d said last night that he’d accepted the title but nothing else. “In return,” she amended fairly, “I will endeavor to keep costs at an absolute minimum.”

  He grinned. “Never vacillate when you’ve already stipulated your terms and won a concession—it gives your opponent a subtle advantage in the next round.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed suspiciously; he was agreeing to everything, and much too easily. “And I think,” she announced decisively, “I want all this written down, witnessed, and made part of the original agreement.”

  Ian’s eyes widened, a wry, admiring smile tugging at his lips as he nodded his consent. There was a roomful of witnesses in the next room, including her uncle, who’d signed the original agreement, and a vicar who could witness it. He decided it was wise to proceed now, when she was in the mood, rather than scruple over who knew about it. “With you as a partner a few years ago,” he joked as he guided her from the room, “God knows how far I might have gone.” Despite his tone and the fact that he’d been on her side during the negotiations, he was nevertheless impressed with the sheer daring of her requests.

  Elizabeth saw the admiration in his smile and smiled a little in return. “At Havenhurst I purchase all our supplies and keep the books, since we have no bailiff. As I explained, I’ve learned to bargain.”

  Ian’s grin faded as he imagined the creditors who’d descended on her after her brother left and how brave she’d had to be to keep them from dismantling her house stone by stone. Desperation had forced her to learn to bargain.

  23

  Duncan had been trying, with extreme difficulty, to keep a pleasant conversation going in the drawing room while Elizabeth and Ian were gone, but not even his lifelong experience in dealing with humans in the throes of emotion could aid him—because in this room everyone seemed to be in the throes of a different emotion. Lady Alexandra was obviously worried and tense; Elizabeth’s loathsome uncle was cold and angry; the dowager and Miss Throckmorton-Jones were evidencing signs of enjoying the difficulty Ian was obviously having with this unusual betrothal.

  With a sigh of relief, Duncan broke off his discourse on the likelihood of early snow and looked up as Elizabeth and Ian walked into the room. His relief doubled when he met Ian’s eyes and saw softness there, and a touch of wry amusement.

  “Elizabeth and I have come to an agreement,” Ian told the occupants of the room without preamble. “She feels, and rightly so, that she and she alone has the right to give herself in marriage. Therefore, she has certain . . . ah . . . terms she wishes to be included in the betrothal agreement. Duncan, if you will be so kind as to write down what she stipulates?”

  Duncan’s brows rose, but he quickly got up and went over to the desk.

  Ian turned to her uncle, his voice taking on a bite. “Do you have a copy of the betrothal contract with you?”