something, say so.â
Angela started to remind him that she was not negotiating terms with him, that she had no intention of accepting his offer, but it seemed too much effort at the moment.
âCome, come, Angela, surely there is something you want from me.â
âAll I want is my freedom.â
âYou shall have plenty of freedomâmore freedom than you have now, in fact, since you will be a married woman, and one with money. Money creates a great deal of freedom. I have proven that.â
âNo wife is free,â Angela replied flatly. âShe is always subject to her husbandâs whims.â
âI am a man of few whims.â The faint smile on his face goaded her.
âI do not wish to share your bed,â she told him bluntly.
Her words seemed to hang in the air. Angela flushed. Suddenly she was very aware of the fact that she wore only a nightgown and robe and that Cam was very casually dressed, his coat and tie off, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, exposing a vee of browned chest, lightly dotted with black hairs. Angela swallowed and looked away. There was a strange sensation in her stomach, the flicker of some long-ago feeling. She remembered how it hadbeen when she and Cam were in love, the way they had rushed together at every opportunity. They would ride out behind the ruins of an old shepherdâs hut, to a copse of trees there, and she would dismount, sliding down into Camâs arms.
Angela knew that she would never forget the look in his eyes, so dark they were almost black, yet leaping with a flame, or the way his mouth widened sensually as he smiled up at her. He would let her slide slowly down through his strong hands, and then he would pull her to him and kiss her. Angela shifted and cleared her throat. Her stomach was jumping wildly around.
âIndeed?â Cam said coolly. âAn odd request, coming from you.â
Angela stiffened at the implied insult and whirled to stalk out of the room. Cam was up and after her in an instant. His hand lashed out and curled around her wrist, pulling her to a stop.
âWhy?â he growled. âJust tell me that! Why did you sleep with those others, yet you would rather let your brother sink into ruin than sleep with me? Is it because of who I am? Because the blood in my veins isnât pure enough? Is my skin too dirty to touch yours?â
Angela started to deny his words hotly, but reason stopped her. Let him think what he would, as long as it gave him a disgust of her. Then he would no longer desire to marry her. She raised her chin a little and stared straight back into his face, forcing herself to hold her gaze steady.
âI am a Stanhope,â she told him proudly. âPerhaps when I was young I was foolish enough to think birth did not matter, but I know better now. Money will never make you a gentleman. I cannot lie with a man who is anything else.â
Ostentatiously Cam dropped her wrist and walked away. Angela braced herself, prepared for a loud and angry condemnation of her shallowness. She was surprised when, after a moment, he turned and said in a clipped voice, âAre those your terms? Not to sleep in my bed? If I agree to that, you are willing to marry me?â
Angela stared at him, flabbergasted. âWhat? You still want to marry me? Knowing how I feel about you?â
His face was as impassive as stone. âI told you, I expect no love match. âTis more aâ¦a business arrangement on both sides. I did not ask to marry you in order to get between your sheets. If you think that I could live with a cold wife and not keep a warm and willing mistress stashed away for comfort, then you are very much mistaken.â
Angelaâs lip curled. âOf course. You would have to have a mistress.â
âWhat do you think? That I should live a celibate because you are too fine a lady to let a common man into your