When We Touch by Heather Graham

any such thing.”
    â€œDon’t count on my being so determined on dignity!”
    His smile deepened. “My dear lady, you wouldn’t so much as set a finger against the door before I would be upon you, make no mistake.”
    â€œHow dare you? Perhaps you misunderstand? Your uncle has asked me to be his wife, not his mistress!”
    â€œMadam, that is precisely the point.”
    â€œYes, please, pray, get to the point.”
    â€œYou’re marrying Lord Charles for his money. You seem to have a number of agendas of your own. Marry him for his money. But let me just warn you— there will be no young lovers, no nights out on the arm of a stand-in, and he had best live many a year after the ceremony.”
    She gasped, stunned that he would speak so bluntly.
    Her eyes narrowed, her temper flared so that it was all that she could do to keep from flying across the carriage to scratch at his face. As it was, her hand twitched, and through no real volition or thought, she leaned forward, ready to strike him.
    The carriage made a sudden lurch, sending her across the short space between them, and hard against him. The fingers of his left hand were curled around her wrist; with his right, he caught and steadied her, and for a dreadful moment, she was caught against his chest, staring up into his eyes, and they were face-to-face. And in that brief span of time, she was horrified anew to realize that no matter how it seemed she truly detested him, she liked where she had landed, and that it was exquisite to feel his arms around her, the power of his chest, the heat that radiated from the man, the raw, carnal pull that was so simply and sensually a part of him.
    Then she jerked free, straightening herself, awkward in her haste to get away from him, and all the emotions streaking through her. Her hand fell upon his thigh. Too close. She jerked her fingers away, her face flooding with crimson. She was completely rattled, and furious that he could make her so. In her scrambling to regain her seating, he tried to help her. His fingers tangled into her hair rather than catching her shoulders. Pins splayed over the carriage.
    â€œI’ve got them; I’ve got them!” he muttered. But they both made the effort to retrieve them, and their heads cracked in the middle. The deerstalker hat flew from his head, and for a moment, they were both nearly unseated again.
    He found his balance first, straightened her, and retrieved the pins. She looked away, wishing that just the brush of her fingers against his as he handed back her hairpins did not evoke any reaction.
    A sudden exhaustion had come to her. And she spoke more with that weariness than with outrage. “You may rest assured. There is no potential lover in my life. Your uncle is quite rich. You’re his only male heir, so I understand. If you’re worried that I shall go through your inheritance, you needn’t fear. I’m sure that you’ve made certain there is only so much I can get in the event of his death. I’ve asked for an income, yes, but I believe that even you must admit that the individual allotment I’ve requested is less than moderate. Certainly, you’ve been consulted on the writing of the marriage contract.”
    He didn’t reply for a long matter of minutes, and when he did, it was not as she expected. “My lady, I don’t give a damn about the inheritance or the contract. I’m warning you only that you will not break his heart while he lives.”
    â€œI don’t know what else to say to you. If there is anything I don’t want in my life, it is another man.”
    He stared at her, and she forced her gaze back to him, and was annoyed to find herself smoothing her hair once again, resecuring pins she had already secured. As he looked back at her, he tapped the roof of the carriage again with his walking stick.
    â€œI’m to be set free?”
    â€œImmediately, my