Luck Be a Lady by Meredith Duran Page B

some pretty words first, if not the wine.”
    Her stomach pitched nervously. She ignored it. Shewas a businesswoman, and this was only another matter of business. Emotion had no place in it. “I am gently bred, and a virgin. But I am not girlish, and I do not require poetry in business transactions.”
    His brows lifted. “Business transactions? Darling, if this were business, we’d be on the street corner.”
    She flushed. Why was he making this difficult? It was a comfort to know that he hadn’t guessed the great turmoil bubbling inside her, but how much easier it would have been had he simply followed her lead! “I do not mean to give it such a vulgar gloss,” she said stiffly. “But I see no need to pretend at deep feeling. Were there some way to avoid this unpleasantness, we would do so. But consummation will mitigate the risk to us. If my brother tries to challenge this marriage, we will speak with a clean and honest conscience to any officer in the land that we are legitimately married.”
    â€œAnd I don’t argue with that,” he said. “But for my own sake . . .”
    â€œSurely you do not require candlelight in order to perform, Mr. O’Shea?”
    His head snapped back. The churning in her stomach intensified. Had she gone too far?
    â€œFine, then,” he purred. “If you’re up to it, then certainly I am.”
    She nodded tersely. “Then please step outside, so I might undress.”
    â€œNo.” He took a seat in the single wing chair, his smile mocking. “If it’s the law that concerns you, seems wise to mind all the particulars. I’ll need to make certain there’s no flaw in you that might invalidate the marriage.”
    â€œFlaw?” She stared at him. “What do you mean?”
    â€œI mean, I’ll see you naked,” he said. “Make sure there’s no false pretenses at work. See that you’ve got all the necessary bits, and such. That sheet, after all, makes it impossible to tell.”
    She had no words. “I . . .”
    â€œAnd of course, I’ll return the favor.” His smile tipped into a roguish slant as he reached for his collar. With leisurely movements, he unknotted his necktie. “Go on,” he said pleasantly. “We needn’t take turns. Will speed things up if we both work at once.”
    He began to shrug out of his jacket. She quickly turned her back. “I have no need to watch,” she spat at the wall. “I am quite certain that you have the—necessary bits, as you put it.”
    â€œOh?” His voice was muffled, but it grew clearer again as he continued. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Muffled thump—from the corner of her eye, she saw his jacket hit the ground, followed by his boots.
    â€œYou need some help there?” he asked.
    There was a smirk in his voice. He was enjoying himself. No doubt he’d bedded a hundred women in his time. Was it any wonder if innocence, a certain degree of modesty and reserve, struck him as laughable?
    But she was not a spectacle for his amusement. She pivoted, facing him, and opened the last button on her bodice.
    The pounding of her heart, the rushing of blood in her ears, mercifully deafened her to whatever word slipped from his lips then. But the glare of the lights revealed with stark clarity the surprise on his face—and then, as she let her gown fall to the floor, the infinitesimal tightening of his expression, the new hardness of his mouth, and the fractional drop ofhis lids, so his gaze suddenly looked slumberous as it trailed down her body.
    That look worked some evil magic on her, luring out her own awareness from the safety of her brain—pulling it down into her body, along her own limbs, chasing his glance across her skin, goose bumps rising.
    She swallowed. He was a handsome man. She was, despite all rumors, a woman of ordinary flesh and