“Dowry?” He fell back onto the pillow. “Dowry? Miss Masters, I will have you know that I’m a man.”
She put her hand between his legs, and felt his interest stir. “So I’ve noticed,” she murmured. His head turned toward hers, his eyes dancing. “But reminders are always welcome. One might mistake you for a girl, with these.” She reached out with her free hand, very delicately, to touch his lashes. They fluttered beneath her fingers, and she laughed again. “Especially if you bat them.”
He rolled on top of her, pinning her arm very neatly. “Then you should know your place,” he said. “It’s your role to bring the dowry.”
“Oh, yes?” He had not tried to knock her away from her main objective, she noted with amusement, and her effort was yielding a very firm result. The harder he grew, the weaker her limbs seemed, and the stronger she felt inside, where it counted. Together they were more brilliant than anyone she knew. She felt very proud of them, and rather gleeful. “And what would you request of me, your oh-so-fearsome lordship?”
“You,” he said gently, and kissed her mouth. “Forever. Will you marry me, Miss Masters?”
She deliberately withheld her reply, waiting until he frowned and laid his lips against hers again. “On one condition,” she said into his mouth.
“Name it,” he breathed.
She smiled. Excellent. “I keep all the keys.”
Written on Your Skin Page 30
