Page 34 of The Scottish Duke's Deal

There was no reason for it. None. And yet, the certainty in his voice, the steadiness of his eyes, made her wonder if perhaps she hadn’t been wrong about everything. Maybe this man, for reasons she still couldn’t begin to name, had truly chosenher.

A pause followed. Heavy as velvet.

Eleanor forced herself to breathe. “You need me.”

He said nothing. Only looked at her. Which was answer enough.

She lifted her chin. “Is this to be one of those cold arrangements then? A marriage of convenience?”

Something flickered in his eyes. Not offense. Not quite.

“If you expect us to play happy family in London,” Ramsay said, “you’ll be disappointed. I hate this place. The rules. The eyes. I intend to spend as little time here as possible.”

“And Penelope?”

“Needs a home, a mother. Not a ballroom.”

Eleanor looked away. Her heart galloped. The fire behind her cracked, as if answering the pressure building in her chest.

She knew what he was offering. And what he wasn’t.

Still, she spoke. “If I say yes… I want to set some terms.”

His brow rose, but he nodded once. “Go on.”

She steadied her voice. “First, you will not take me away from London. Not for good. Not without discussion. My family is here.”

“Fair.”

“Second,” she continued, “you will not humiliate me in front of the ton. I won’t be one of those women whispered about because her husband keeps a mistress.”

His eyes darkened. Something old and furious passed across his features. “I don’t keep women in London.”

“Good,” she said, lifting her chin. “Then this won’t be an issue.”

A pause. Then she added, voice quiet but unshaking, “Third. For the first month of our marriage… we will act as husband and wife. Publicly. Privately. We’ll get to know one another.”

Ramsay tilted his head. “So you would have us begin with terms. A probation of sorts.”

“I want a beginning,” she corrected. “Not a transaction.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. But it wasn’t amusement. It was something far more dangerous. Something that sent a flicker of heat from her chest to her throat.

“Fine,” he said. “But one rule of my own.”

She met his gaze. The heat in her face made her feel both braver and more exposed than she liked.

“During that month,” he said slowly, “we fulfill all our duties.”

Her throat tightened. “What duties?”

He stepped closer again. Near enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the faint rise and fall of his chest, the tension coiled in his shoulders.

The space between them all but vanished, breath and pulse tangled in the quiet. She felt it in her stomach, in the prickling air between their bodies. Not a touch, yet, but it hovered like something inevitable.

“All,” he said, “of them.”

The fire hissed behind her. Her back straightened instinctively. She understood exactly what he meant.