Free His Wicked Wish by Olivia Drake

offense, he chuckled. “I wonder if Herrington knows that you can hurl insults like a fishwife. He won’t be happy to have his peace and quiet disturbed.”
    â€œThere will be no outbursts with the marquess, for he merits being treated as a gentleman.” Maddy flung the wet towel at him. “Unlike a tedious wretch like you who deserves to be cursed from here to perdition.”
    He easily caught the towel with one hand. “Call me whatever you please, Miss Swann. I happen to like your colorful curses.”
    His grin held a genuine appreciation that Maddy found perplexing. Any other gentleman would be insulted, infuriated, affronted. Perhaps he truly was a madman.
    â€œI’ve had quite enough of this nonsense,” she said crisply. She tried to cross her arms, but it was awkward with the padding around her midsection. “I should like you to go now.”
    â€œSo you can piece together Herrington’s bid and see how much he’s offered you to warm his bed? Don’t waste your time.”
    With that, Lord Rowley strode to the dressing table, gathered up the proposals, and tossed the lot into the rubbish bin.
    Maddy lunged forward to rescue them, but his long legs blocked her access to the container beneath the dressing table. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked. “Move out of the way, you tyrant.”
    â€œNone of them can possibly match my offer.” The viscount reached inside his coat and produced a folded paper. “Here, do yourself a favor and have a look.”
    He thrust the folded bid into her hand. She felt a strong compulsion to rip it into shreds and throw it at his too handsome face. But then he would continue to plague her with his presence. It was clear Lord Rowley wouldn’t leave until he’d had his way.
    As much as she disliked being forced to capitulate, reading the proposal might be her best course of action. Then she could reject it soundly and send him packing.
    â€œOh, for pity’s sake!” Hissing out a breath, Maddy broke the silver wax seal and unfolded the sheet of paper. She angled it close to the oil lamp on the dressing table. Written in bold black penmanship, the offer was brief, concise … and utterly astounding. Her legs wilted and she sank down onto the stool to scan the words a second time.
    She cast a disbelieving look up at him. “You want me to be your wife —not your mistress? This must be a jest.”
    â€œOh, it’s quite true, Miss Swann. All the other bidders will keep you hidden away like a dirty little secret. I, on the other hand, want you at my side as I enter society. I’m offering you the honor of my name along with a generous stipend. You will be Lady Rowley—and a wealthy woman in your own right.”
    The masculine angles of his face revealed a firm resolve. As an actress, she’d made a study of facial expressions so that she could reproduce them on stage. Lord Rowley was indeed telling the truth.
    All of a sudden she understood why Gertie approved of him. He must have told her of his plan to offer marriage. Nothing would make the maidservant happier than to see Maddy with a ring on her finger and a title to her name.
    But that didn’t explain his motive for the startling proposition.
    Why would a nobleman wish to wed a lowborn actress whom he had only just met? In fact, he hadn’t even met her when he’d written up the bid. One possibility jumped to the forefront of her mind. Perhaps he was like Edmund. Perhaps Lord Rowley needed a convenient wife to cover up his secret predilections. “Are you one of those men who prefers … other men?”
    He stared at her, then chuckled softly. His hand reached out to caress her cheek. “Hardly. I can assure you, Miss Swann, this marriage will be consummated. I’ve every intention of making love to you. Thoroughly and completely.”
    His light touch unfurled a ribbon of heat that