feet, rested his palms on his desk and leaned forward. "Sit down, please ."
She subsided gracefully into a chair, aware her knees were knocking. She hadn't realized quite how angry she was with James until she'd seen him again. Her father's death had liberated her in many ways. She'd vowed never to let another man treat her like a package to be disposed of, her husband included.
I'm not sure what you wish to discuss with me, sir. As far as I understand it, my father's fortune has passed to you. How does that concern me?"
He frowned. "There's no need to sound so aggrieved. I didn't write the laws, dammit. It's not my fault that men inherit their wife's money."
"I don't care about the money. I have no wish to touch my father's fortune."
"And why is that?"
"Because he was a vile man who gained his fortune by exploiting the labor of others."
He watched her very carefully. "I always thought you idolized the man."
Arabella shuddered. "He terrified me."
"But he is dead now."
She lifted her head and held his gaze. "Yes he is. And I'm glad."
He let out a long breath and studied his clasped hands. "We need to learn to deal better with each other. We are married. We have a duty to make this relationship work."
Arabella considered him carefully. "Why?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why now? You have everything you wanted out of our bargain. What possibly could have changed in the last two years to make you decide to approach me like this?"
"We are older and wiser. And as I already mentioned, your father is dead. I would like to settle his fortune on our children."
Arabella chose to ignore the implications of that statement. "We have drifted apart. Why change a situation that suits us both so well?"
He frowned, one hand tapped a relentless tattoo on the desk. "Perhaps you might explain."
She shrugged. "You have your life in London and your ladybirds; I have my life here and my own…pleasures."
"You are fucking another man?"
His expression darkened and a thrill of fear coursed through her. She couldn't complain that she didn't have his full attention now.
"I didn't say that. I simply suggested that I have learned a lot since our first unfortunate night together."
Before she had time to react he came around the desk, grabbed her arm and yanked her out of her chair. "You are fucking another man."
Up close, the deep lines on either side of his mouth seemed harsh.
"Why should you care?"
"Because you are my wife."
She smiled at him. "You are my husband and from all accounts you fuck anything willing or not."
"Be careful, Arabella. As your husband I have a right to know that my eldest son is mine, born from my seed and my seed alone."
She licked her lips, enjoying the feel of his hands locked around her upper arms, the strength of his body against her own.
"With the amount of women you bed, surely you already have enough children?"
He let out his breath. "Don't play the innocent with me. You know I mean my legitimate offspring."
"So you do have bastards then? Do you pay for their keep? Should I start knitting shawls and booties to hand out to their weeping mothers?"
He bent his head and kissed her, sliding his tongue between her lips to take possession of her mouth as if he belonged there. Arabella bit down hard on his lip. He swore as he jerked away from her.
"To the best of my knowledge, I have no bastards. And I don't expect you to provide me with any either."
She touched her finger to the bead of blood on his lip. "As I understand it, any child I bear you is considered legitimate whether you like it or not."
He kissed her finger and smiled. "You will bear my children. I am convinced of it." He stepped back and bowed. "In fact we will start tonight. Be ready to welcome me into your bed."
Arabella shot him a frosty glare. "Welcome you? When you have invited two of your mistresses into my house, into my home ?"
He moved toward the door. "I promise I'll send them on their way this afternoon if you will accept me