Silent Revenge by Laura Landon

you. The money is not important to me. The amount you saw on that paper will be yours once we marry. It’s only your name I require.”
    He studied her more closely. “Why me? Why did you choose me?”
    She held her ground. “I saw the way you intimidated all of society when you appeared at Lady Stratmore’s ball. There was not one person there who was not in awe of you—and even a bit fearful.”
    The earl rubbed his fingers against his forehead as if that could ease his weariness. He looked so very tired. As if someone had placed the weight of the world upon his shoulders a very long time ago and had neglected to come back to help him carry it.
    “I want you to leave. I’m far from sober, and I don’t believe one word—”
    “No. I will not go. At least not until you agree to consider my proposal.” She could not back down until she’d given this her total effort. Somehow she had to convince him that saving his inheritance would be worth being married to her. “My father left me a great amount of wealth. It could all be yours. You would not lose Ravenscroft. You would not lose—”
    “Damn you, woman. Stop your lies. I would rather watch every stone and timber of Ravenscroft fall down at my feet than marry you.”
    Jessica closed her eyes and fisted her hands in her lap. She should have known he wouldn’t want her. After all, what man would want to have a wife who was deaf?
    “Nor do I believe you are Baron Tanhill’s stepsister. You probably don’t have one pound to your name, other than the money someone sent you to offer me.”
    Jessica shook her head. “The money is mine. I am offering it to you in exchange for your name.”
    He bolted from the chair and crossed the space that separated them in one easy stride. Anger was blatant on his face, fury raging in his eyes. He did not believe her. In fact, he thought she’d been sent by someone who wanted to trick him.
    He leaned down and pinned her shoulder against the back of the tall chair with his strong, muscular hand. The rugged contours of his face were so close she could see the black flecks in his eyes, his broad chest so near she could breathe in the masculine smell of the outdoors mixed with the strong tinge of liquor. Her flesh burned where he touched her. She was not at all used to such a feeling, and she knew she was in over her depths.
    “Who sent you here tonight?”
    “No one, Lord Northcote. I came on my own.”
    The smile on his face contained no friendship, but seemed an open wager of war.
    The breath caught in her throat when he lifted his hand from the back of her chair to her neck. His touch sent a fiery warmth surging through her.
    “So tell me,” he said, moving his fingers. “Did you think when I stared into your big, sad eyes I would simply swallow my pride and hold out my hand for you to give me the money? Or did you expect to win me over first with your pretty looks and feminine charm so I would fall to my knees and believe your lies without question?”
    “No,” she said, hoping she’d said the word aloud. “I have not lied to you.”
    The lazy circles his thumb made at the base of her throat stopped. He arched his brows high on his forehead. Straight white teeth shone in contrast to the golden bronze of his handsome face, and she felt a strange stirring she didn’t understand.
    “You expect me to believe that until recently, you were completely unaware of your father’s substantial wealth. That until recently you did not know your own stepbrother was alive?” He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. “I think not, woman.”
    “It’s true.” Her voice shook at the warm touch of his hand. “If you don’t believe me, ask His Grace, the Duke of Collingsworth. I know you are friends. He will tell you.”
    He pulled his hand away from her as if her words had scalded him. He backed away as if each step near her was too close.
    The air around them hung in complete stillness. The look on his face was a mask of