Deeply In You by Sharon Page Page A

if she were idly passing her time.
    She reached the bushes, where she paused. Something hard and warm caught her by the waist. Suddenly she was pulled into an open space in the middle of the lilacs. Helena uttered half a scream before she came to her senses and swallowed the rest. She spun, and faced the duke and frowned at him as if he were a disobedient child. “You scared me out of my wits, Your Grace.”
    Sunlight spilled through the canopy of leaves overhead, dappling him with light. Beneath was a floor of soft grass and fallen petals. It was like a secret grotto. “This—this is convenient.”
    “It’s a clearing made by couples sneaking in here for quick, erotic encounters.”
    And he knew about it. She opened her reticule and fished out the sparkling shackles. As she dangled them in front of him, he held out his hand. “I take it you have come to return them.”
    “N-no.” Her voice wobbled, and she searched for strength. “I came to find out exactly what you wish me to do with them, Your Grace.” Taking a deep breath, she held up her arm and fastened one around her wrist.
    It closed with a sharp click. Then she let her tongue play over her lips innocently as she gazed up at him. From doorways, she had watched enough balls to know how ladies flirted. She had never been so daring in her life.
    The duke’s eyes glittered at her, reflecting the sunlight that filtered between leaves. He let out a ragged breath. Deep lines bracketed his mouth. Astonishingly, he looked as if in pain. “Let me show you.”
    He captured both her hands, holding her wrists together. With a snap of metal, he secured the other shackle, binding her hands together.
    She tried to pull her hands out, tried to pull them apart. Of course she couldn’t get free.
    Helena expected him to do something. Kiss her. Touch her. Take the advantage in some way. Instead, he folded his arms over his chest. He made no move toward her. She stood, with her bound hands clasped to her bosom.
    “I want you to understand what I am offering you, Miss Winsome. And what I will demand of you. You will receive a house of your own in town, one for you to keep after our affair ends. Furnished, with a full complement of servants. You will receive jewels, which are, again, yours to keep. Carte blanche at the best modistes in London. At least two vehicles including a closed carriage and a barouche for you to tool around the park. Horses, of course.”
    He threw it out so casually, this fortune he was offering her.
    “All I ask in return is you accept that our sexual pleasures will be enjoyed on my terms.”
    She lowered her shackled hands. She had no idea where to put them. How bizarre this was to have her hands bound in the park that she associated with picnics and playing with paper boats in the lake. “What exactly does that mean, Your Grace?”
    “It means you must go into this arrangement trusting me completely.”
    “And I am not to ask you questions? No, Your Grace I cannot do that. I cannot trust blindly. It is not in my nature to do so. You must tell me what you want from me.” She could not agree without knowing.
    He stroked his jaw with his black-gloved hand, obviously considering.
    She swallowed hard. Why wouldn’t he just tell her? He’d already hinted at enough wicked things. Why was he not speaking now?
    Nerves took over. She needed to have her hands free. She didn’t like relinquishing control; she was too used to being in charge. “At least release me. You said we were equals. I don’t feel that way when my hands are bound.” She said bluntly, “Poetry, diamonds, and shackles. I have to contemplate what that says about you, Your Grace, if those are examples of life as your mistress. You ask me to give up everything, and you won’t tell me what it is you plan to do to me.”
    The duke moved close to her. He plucked a key from his pocket, then bent to free her hands. This close to him, her quick breaths flooded her senses with his masculine