The account books didn’t look any better now than they had in the early hours of the morning. One thing was obvious—while costs were rising at the mill, income was falling. Clearly, she would have to deal with the other mill owners’ enmity quickly or face ruin.

      Merry raised her gaze from the rows of numbers and stared out of the window. No blue skies today. The moor looked particularly bleak, a wasteland of white patches amid the brown grass.

      A brief knock and the door opened to admit Charlie. He looked wonderful. Refreshed. And, damn him, more handsome than ever.

      An odd feeling of shyness tensed her stomach. Warmth stung her cheeks. He’d think her such a naïve fool for blushing after her wantonness in the night. She kept her smile cool. ‘Good morning, my lord. Ready to leave?’

      He grinned. ‘Forgotten my name so soon, my sweet? How are you, Merry? Did you sleep well?’ He strode to the desk, gathered her hands in turn and kissed each palm. ‘You look beautiful.’

      Right, beautiful in her plain brown gown and ragged grey wool shawl. Her working clothes. The man was a flirt. ‘I am well, thank you, Charlie. Is your carriage at the door? I will come and bid you farewell.’

      He wandered around the room, looking at the neat rows of ledgers on the shelves lining one wall, each one neatly dated. ‘So this is where you spend most of your time?’

      ‘Yes.’ She pulled her old shawl closer around her, not because she was cold, but because having him prowling around her office seemed to make the room smaller.

      ‘I’m not leaving,’ he said.

      ‘What?’ Her mouth fell open.

      ‘I’m not leaving while your life is in danger.’

      Why did men always think they were the only ones able to solve problems? ‘I don’t need your help.’

      He sat down in the chair opposite the desk. His jaw set in a stubborn line. ‘Yes. You do.’

      She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Do you know what they will think if you run around town standing up for me? They will think I am your mistress.’

      His dark eyes gleamed, but his face remained deadly serious. ‘After last night, you are.’

      ‘Well, it won’t matter what you say in that case. They will listen politely and once you leave they will do as they wish. As my my

      ‘Lover,’ he said, raising a brow.

      ‘Very well. As my lover, you will have no influence at all. And my reputation will be ruined into the bargain. I have to deal with these men every day. I need their respect. This will only garner ridicule.’

      He leaned back in the chair, kicked out his legs and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Not if I pose as your fiancé.’

      She stared at him. ‘Why? You were vehemently opposed to this idea barely a few hours ago.’

      ‘I won’t leave you to face this alone. It wouldn’t be right.’

      She blushed. ‘You owe me nothing. No. I don’t need your help. Caro and I can manage this for ourselves.’

      He shrugged a shoulder. ‘Your choices are fiancé or lover. Either way I will speak to them today.’

      Blackmail. Brass makes t’wheels turn. Only he didn’t lack for money, and, unless she was completely deranged, he still wanted her.

      ‘It’s a mickle for a muckle, then,’ she said.

      He stared at her blankly.

      ‘Is’t not plain as the nose on your face? I’ll be your mistress while you play the fiancé. ‘Tis a fair bargain and when it is done, there’s no obligation on either side.’

      His eyes flashed. ‘There you are with the outrageous statements in that dialect again. I’m not looking for damned payment. What kind of man do you think I am?’

      She glared at him. ‘What? Is it beneath you to make an honest bargain? Smell too much of the shop?’

      A blank look crossed his face. He took a deep breath. ‘It’s a matter of honour, Merry. Surely you understand?’

      Unfortunately she did. A man who thought his honour was at stake would never give in. Her heartbeat quickened. Her pulse raced. The thought of him remaining here for days, no doubt. The temptation of having him close by.

      Caro would be furious.

      She glared at him. ‘You said you were in Yorkshire on business. I suggest you continue on your way.’

      A dark brow flicked up. ‘Suggest all you want, I am speaking to these men and that is final.’

      He meant it. This man was as stubborn as she was. And if he succeeded, she would be beholden to him. Every good turn deserves a reward. Asking him to tie his name to hers deserved a far greater reward than one night in her bed.

      ‘And you won’t accept payment.’

      A muscle flickered in his jaw. Anger. Pride. Well, she had her pride, too.

      ‘But you won’t turn me away if I come to your bed of my own free will.’

      He closed his eyes briefly as if he battled demons of his own.

      She half-expected him to back down. The other half waited desperately for his answer. Because if he rejected this offer, she would know he despised her indeed and his offer of help was out of the question.

      A long sigh escaped him. ‘No, I would not turn you away if you came to me of your own free will. I’m damned well not made of stone.’

      She let go a breath of her own. She’d actually been holding it while she waited for his answer. ‘Then we have a bargain.’

      Dear God, what would Caro say? She’d be angry, and disappointed, but she’d have to admit, eventually, it was the best solution. She’d have to forgive her, eventually.

      Her insides trembled. He was staying. He would be hers tonight and tomorrow and into the future. The pen dropped from fingers weak at the thought of nights in his arms.

      He leaned forwards, elbows on his knees, gazing at her intently. ‘Now that is settled, let us start with who you think might have tried to damage your carriage.’

      Merry could quite happily drown in those dark brown eyes.

      Concentrate, Merry. She shook her head. ‘I’ve gone over and over it in my mind. I know some of the mill owners and clothiers hate dealing with a woman, but they were Grandfather’s good friends. I can’t believe any of them would do me harm.’

      ‘Businessmen are notoriously ruthless,’ he said reasonably.

      She rose to her feet. ‘But they are not murderers. I won’t believe it. I’ve known these men all my life.’

      He held out a hand. She walked around the desk and took it, feeling its strength. He enclosed her hand in warmth. ‘You can’t let soft emotions cloud your thinking.’

      ‘I’m not one of your sentimental women who doesn’t know about harsh realities.’ She pulled at her hand. He gave it a tug and somehow she ended up sitting on his knee, enfolded in his arm, resting against his chest. It was so easy to lean against him.

      He placed a warm hand on her thigh. His heat scorched her leg through the wool. ‘Merry, listen to me. Someone tried to kill you, no matter how you look at it.’

      ‘But why? I’ve done no one any harm.’

      A finger toyed with the fine hairs at her nape. A shiver ran through her, not cold, searing hot. Her insides turned to liquid.

      His voice was a gentle murmur when he spoke as if he, too,