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Desire, he knew, was just a step away from affection.

"Why did you say yes to marrying me?" He needed to know. He wasn't sure why, just that he needed to know what drove her, what went on behind those expressive eyes.

She glanced away sharply and his belly knotted. Was she in some sort of trouble? He didn't know much about Lavinia.

In fact, it was safe to say he knew nothing about her at all, but he had good judgement about people and she didn't strike him as the type that would rush into a marriage while pregnant with another man's child.

"I do not see how that is any of your business," she glanced up at him, chin in the air, "What matters is that I'm dedicated to this now and you had better not take back the offer."

From being so adamant with her refusal to being eager, it was more than a little suspicious. He should have been thinking about that. And not about the tendril of hair that had escaped and was now brushing over her jaw.

His whole focus was on resisting the urge to push that hair out of her face.

He took a step backward. "This marriage will be strictly an arrangement."

"An arrangement?"

"Yes," he said firmly, needing to drive home the point that he had no love to give her. "Do not come into this with any delusions. I'm never going to feel anything for you and I hope you'll save yourself the heartache of getting attached to me. The sooner you see this as a business deal with no emotions welcome, the better for you."

She bristled, "you scoundrel! Do you think me a fool? Willing to give my affections to just any one at the drop of a hat? I could never be stupid enough to love a man like you."

"A man like me?" he echoed.

"Yes," she stabbed her index finger into his chest, teeth bared, "Behind this flesh is a cold black heart. I am not a ninny brain. I know what this arrangement is, so do not bother to lecture me."

The top of her cheekbones were a distinct red and her eyes were flashing fire at him.

"And do not make it seem like having emotions is a thing to be ashamed of," she continued, "I am forever glad that I am not all stone and ice like you."

"Trust me," he said in a ragged voice, "I am far from stone and ice."

She was so close, so achingly close and the finger that had been stabbing at him was now replaced by a dainty palm against his breast. This close, he could see the tiny freckles dotted across the bridge of her nose and the apples of her cheeks.

Lavinia smelled like flowers, so sweet that it made his teeth ache.

If she got any closer, she would realize that she was half right; only a part of him was stone but bloody hell, he was the opposite of ice.

"Yes, you are," she said. "You wouldn't know a real emotion if it hit you in the face."

There was one that was at the forefront of his mind now. One that could burn them both into ashes.

"You do not know what you are talking about, Lavinia."

Her throat bobbed with a swallow, "then show me, Victor."

It was his name breathed out so feather soft that did him in. One second he was telling himself he ought to step away, the next she was in his arms, his mouth slanted over hers.

The first contact of their mouths rearranged his whole autonomy. It was supposed to have been a kiss, a demonstration that he was not the ice cold Duke she thought he was, but Victor didn't just kiss her, he devoured her.

And the best or maybe the worst part is that she let him.

She dissolved like ice on a hot day in his hands and took what he gave her. Took it like she had been waiting all her life for that moment.

He knew he should stop. They were only hidden by some trees and a small fencing. If anybody cared to inspect further, they would come upon them.

As if Victor cared.

Thetoncould go to hell.