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And he has yet to even touch my skin.

Good heavens, what would happen when they did touch?

In a weak voice, she read the last lines, including the one she added. “In exchange, when he is done with me, he will erase my father’s debt. Valid from this day through to the end of the year.”

When the Baron spoke, his voice was a deep rumble in her ear. “Desperate for me, are ye, sweetheart? Five full weeks with me?”

Her eyes fluttered closed on her reaction to him, wondering if he could smell her arousal. She hadn’t reacted this way to a man since Roger, and look how that had turned out!

“Georgia?” he prompted.

There was nothing for it; she was going to have to face him. Taking a deep breath, she turned. When she opened her eyes, the two of them were standing less than a foot apart. She could lean forward and her lips would brush against his bearded, scarred jaw.

But instead, she tilted her head back to meet his eyes. “I thought the timeline would be fair. From now until December 31st.”

“Midnight, I presume?” There was a sparkle of dark humor in his eyes. “These things are full of symbolism. Hogmanay is the next day; we Scots are superstitious.”

Her voice caught in her throat. “M-Midnight then.”

Five weeks. More than a month here at Endymion, in his presence. In his bed. Whenever and however he wants me.

She swallowed, wishing she wasn’t so aroused by the thought.

This close, she could see the puckered marks on his skin where the flames had damaged him. Her fingers itched to touch him, to touch the scars. Could he feel sensation there, or was the area dead?

If she kissed him there, would he know it?

His nostrils flared, and she wondered if he could read her thoughts…read her arousal. When he bent closer, her heart began its heavy hammering once more.

Self-preservation told her to lean back, away from him. But a deeper, older, more insistent instinct told her to meet him halfway, to accept his kiss…

But he didn’t kiss her. He halted, lips inches from hers, still not touching her, and raised a brow. “Are ye worth it?” he whispered.

Confused, she jerked away from him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Are. Ye. Worth it?” His gaze raked her face, his eyes fierce. Angry. Intense. “Five weeks of my time, and yer father’s debt. Are ye—Lady Georgia Stoughton, with yer knowledge of the marriage bed—worth it?”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Worth it?

She was…she was heartily offended. “Worth it?” she managed to squeak. Then she swallowed and tried again. “Worth it, Lord Endymion? I am not some whore to haggle price. I am offering a mutually beneficial agreement.”

Humming, the Baron leaned back and dragged his gaze down her body in a thoroughly offensive way.

Offensive? Why did you just squeeze your thighs together, then?

“Mutually beneficial, ye say? But how can I be certain ye’re no’ some cold fish? How do I ken ye willnae scream and hide from me when I snap my fingers?” He was mocking her. “How do I ken ye’ll respond to my touch?” When he raised a brow in challenge, she almost didn’t notice his scars. “How do I ken, Lady Georgia, in the plainest terms possible, ye’ll be a good fook?”

“I—”

He moved so swiftly, she was startled to find him in her face once more. “Bend over,” he whispered, his voice silky.

“Wh-What?”

“Bend over,” Demon repeated with a cruel grin. “Lift yer skirts and bend over, Lady Georgia, so I can see what I’m getting.”

Her lips were parted, staring at him in disbelief.