A muscle in Mr Hemming’s cheek twitched. “You think ten pounds will free Miss Dunn from her contract? She owes me a damn sight more than that.”
“The note is for a hundred pounds. I’m certain that should suffice. I expect your clerk to issue a receipt.”
“A hundred pounds!” Eva gasped. She turned to Mr Ashwood in a state of blind panic. Matters were spiralling out of control. Lord, she could not repay such a huge debt. “I cannot let you part with such an extortionate sum.”
In a move that rocked her to her core—and one she suspected was done to rouse the publisher’s ire—Mr Ashwood cupped her cheek gently and said in his velvet voice, “I would pay a king’s ransom in the hope of making you happy.”
Eva swallowed past the lump in her throat as she gazed into his eyes. He sounded so sincere she struggled to distinguish between fantasy and reality. Heat flooded her body. Three times her stomach flipped as a nervous excitement raced through her veins.
“I cannot accept your charity,” she whispered. “It’s too much.”
It was all too much.
“Nothing is too much where you’re concerned.” He stared at her mouth. “Your publisher needs proof of our commitment. Let us show him the depth of our affection.”
Eva’s heart raced so fast she could barely breathe. Heaven help her. Did Mr Ashwood mean to kiss her? In the office? With her publisher as a witness?
“Give your permission, Eva,” he said, clearly serious in his intention, “for I am not a man who takes liberties at a lady’s expense.”
Eva’s mind whirled. Somehow she managed a weak nod while scrambling to know how to make the kiss look convincing when she lacked experience in that department. But she liked Mr Ashwood, found him appealing on every level. Indeed, she was rather desperate to feel those muscular arms holding her in a warm embrace.
Mr Ashwood took hold of her face between his hot hands. He ran the pad of his thumb over her quivering bottom lip. It wasn’t raging lust she saw in his eyes as he bent his head, it was a tender look that spoke of genuine affection.
Despite fearing she would not appear credible, Eva came up on trembling toes, and their mouths met.
Oh, Lord!
Mr Ashwood kissed her in a slow, sensual way, melding himself to her as if he wished to savour every second. She could taste nothing definable, nothing but a potent masculine essence that swirled through her body to tease her sex. With every skilled caress, the ache intensified. And the heat, oh, the heat from his lips journeyed southwards to warm her lonely soul.
Using nothing more than the satisfying movements of his mouth, he drew her closer. The space between them evaporated. She seemed to melt into him, into the powerful aura that made her feel so safe, so secure. Men had shown an interest in her before, but not like this. Never with such depth of feeling. Never with the promise of unbridled passion.
The highly pleasurable moment was brought to an abrupt end by a loud thud and Mr Hemming’s vile curse.
“You bloody bastard.”
Mr Ashwood dragged his mouth from hers, yet the desperate ache remained. They were both a bit breathless, both a little dazed by the arousing experience. It took a few seconds to break the spell that held them only a few inches apart.
But this was acting, she reminded herself.
This was playing a role.
Eventually, Mr Ashwood cleared his throat and straightened. He turned to face Mr Hemming, who in a wild fit of temper had swiped the pile of books off his desk onto the floor.
“I think it’s obvious to anyone watching, we are desperate to wed,” Mr Ashwood said, his voice echoing the intense longing still thrumming through her veins.
Mr Hemming stood rigid, his fists balled at his sides. His face was so red with rage he looked ready to explode. A feral growl rumbled in the back of his throat.
“Are you saying our little interludes meant nothing to you?” Mr Hemming snarled.
How could a man be so misguided?
“Sir, ours was—and always has been—a business arrangement. Any breach of propriety stemmed from false belief.” It was the first time she had spoken so openly. Having Mr Ashwood at her side gave her the confidence to speak her mind. “I am in love with Mr Ashwood and plan to marry him.”
Mr Ashwood captured her hand and brought it to his lips.
Oh, the sooner this meeting was over, the better. Whenever he touched her intimately, her knees practically buckled.
Mr Hemming’s face contorted into an ugly grimace. “It will be nigh on impossible to find someone willing to publish your work. And certainly not for the generous sum we agreed.”
It was Mr Ashwood’s turn to laugh. “The Blood Pendant outsold all other works of fiction published last year. Besides, Miss Dunn has secured another publisher, though she certainly won’t need the money when she marries me.”
“Ah! So that’s it!” The publisher wagged his finger. “Don’t you see? He will want to control you once you’re wed. This gentleman is only pretending to show an interest in your work, whereas I have the utmost respect for your creative talents.”
Eva had feared Mr Hemming’s manner bordered on obsessive.
Now she knew it was true.
“Mr Ashwood has nothing but my best interests at heart,” Eva replied. “And our last misunderstanding was a step too far.”
In a fit of frustration, Mr Hemming thrust his hands through his generous mop of brown hair. “Madam, a man cannot help but follow the signs. Do you not admit to being too free with your compliments?”
Anger surfaced. She was about to fire a retort, but Mr Ashwood dropped her hand and stepped forward.
With wide, uncertain eyes, Mr Hemming shuffled back until his legs hit the sofa. “Stay back, sir, else I shall call my clerk.” He lost his footing and collapsed onto
