“And what will you expect from me in return?” She asked, frowning with pure distrust stamped across her features.
He watched the wheels turn in her mind. But her question had him studying her more closely. He’d made it his mission in life to know what made women tick and how to bring them pleasure. And he couldn’t help imagining where he’d start with her, likely trust-building exercises in a slow and steady fashion until a single word from him had her kneeling at his feet. “You mean, will I expect anything from you in the bedroom?”
Her cheeks reddened at the query, but she nodded affirmatively. “Yes. Will you require me to perform wifely duties?”
Hmm. Interesting. The idea did not repulse her. Instead, her gaze caressed his body when she asked as if she wouldn’t be averse to sharing his bed. He wasn’t particularly into vanilla sex, but in her case, he’d make an exception. “Nothing you don’t wish to freely give. We can leave for my cabin immediately. I can have my solicitor get started on the marriage contract in the morning, along with passports for you both.”
Indecision left her frozen. So he added, “Why don’t you come eat some lunch?” She was far too skinny for his liking, like she had gone without a fair share of meals. “It will give you time to decide—um, what’s your name, lass?”
“Freya Meyer.” She blurted and then blushed profusely, turning almost as red as her hair.
She got more interesting by the minute. It had been a good long while since a woman had held his attention. With her fierce spirit, her name was fitting.
“Freya.” He rolled her name over his tongue, liking the sound of it. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen, and we’ll get this sorted. You can leave the playpen in here, and we’ll retrieve it later.”
“So you’re not going to call the cops?” she asked, still suspicious of his motives.
“No. Come. Don’t make me ask you twice.” He infused his voice with firmness because they could go round and round on this point unless he took command and steered the situation to his liking. He gestured toward the door for her to follow and exited his office.
With her daughter in her arms, a cute little thing with hair the color of the sunset and sky-blue eyes that reminded him of the sky over Scotland at midday, she followed him out and down the hallway to the kitchen.
He was rather stunned by the afternoon’s turn of events. He never figured he would ask a woman he barely knew to marry him.
And all because of a kiss he never should have received.
3
Marry him? Was the guy clinically insane?
Who asked someone they’d just met to marry them? She’d tell you who did stuff like that—crazy people.
Holding Maddie close, Freya didn’t know what to think or how to feel about his offer. He was only a few years older than she, by her reckoning, maybe in his early thirties. He could be English, but with a name like Campbell would bet what cash she had left he was Scottish.
His voice was sex personified. His Scottish brogue in that sexy baritone made his words sound like a caress. And when he spoke, the potent vibrations shivered through her body down into her toes. A man like him was dangerous to her sensibilities. A hypothesis proven by that reckless kiss. And what a kiss! Her body still hummed with illicit desire.
But she had sworn long ago that she would never be taken in by a charming, handsome face again. She’d done that once.
Holding Maddie close in case she needed to make a break for it, she asked, “What’s your name?”
He cast an arched stare as he rounded the kitchen island and faced her. “Jasper Campbell, at your service. And who is this little lassie?” He nodded toward her daughter. Maddie stared at him in fascination. Like mother, like daughter. But it could just be she wasn’t used to being around men that much, and definitely not one this enormous.
“This is Maddie.” Freya said her name, and her daughter grinned like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.
“I’ve got a highchair in the pantry. Let me grab it, and we can set it by the table. And don’t think of leaving until we’ve finished discussing this matter. You try to leave before we’ve finished our negotiations, and I will call the authorities.”
She sucked in a breath at the threat. Rich people really were different. Only a guy who had never interacted with cops would call them the authorities. But she had no plans to leave just yet. Because she wanted to see if he was serious about his offer.
Did he really want to marry her for a year to gain his inheritance? Would he really buy her a house and give her twenty million dollars if she agreed?
It was the best offer she’d ever received. And she wanted to uncover if it was too good to be true. Because if he was serious and could prove he had that type of money to toss around, she couldn’t turn it down.
Jasper returned moments later with a highchair that looked brand spanking new for Maddie and sat it next to the table.
“Do you have kids?” Because she really didn’t want or need the drama of caring for his kids or dealing with an ex-wife or ex-girlfriend in the mix.
“No. But I’ve got cousins with children. It’s easier to have one of these on hand when we all get together.”
“I see.” But she didn’t. How could she when it was such a foreign concept? Having furniture on hand just in case an extended family member might need to use it when they visited. But she guessed that was the difference between those who had money and the rest of the population.
“I hope you don’t mind leftovers. One of my cousins hosted a big barbecue last night and sent us home with loads of food.”
“No, I don’t mind at all. It’s been a while since I had barbecue.” Or anything resembling an actual meal that wasn’t microwavable noodles in a cup. The thought of eating real protein almost made her swoon and liable to sign on the dotted line without verifying he was legit.
“Good.” He started pulling trays of food out from the fridge. “Will Maddie eat chicken? Or is she more of a hotdog kind of lass?”
“Dog.” Maddie piped in, clapping her pudgy little hands.
“She’s a big fan of hotdogs.”
“Well, why don’t we get her situated first? There’s even some mac and cheese.”
“Yay!” Maddie squealed in delight.
This man was speaking her daughter’s language with food. She approached the kitchen island, the one she had cleaned an hour ago, with caution. “I can put together her plate.”
Jasper nodded and moved enough to let her over by the food. Her stomach growled at the offerings. There was chicken, burgers, hot dogs, potato salad, macaroni and cheese, green beans with bacon and onions, salad, and fruit. They’d struck gold in the food department. Her mouth watered. She was so hungry. If he wasn’t around, she’d start eating it with her bare hands, not caring that it was cold.
She took one of the plates with Maddie in her arms. It was always a juggling act, getting anything done with a toddler.
“Here, let me take her,” Jasper offered, holding his rather large hands out for her kid.
Her desire to feed her daughter and herself warred with handing her child over into the arms of a virtual stranger. Hunger won out. She handed Maddie over. And Maddie just grinned at him. She took his face in her chubby little hands and babbled.