Ten thousand pounds for one night. Splendor stared at the piece of paper he'd just placed on the table. If she accepted what would that make her?

A very rich woman. Actually.

"Oh, for the love of Christ on a horse in a nightgown." His cynical exhalation sent icy particles spinning through her veins. "You really do think the worst of me, don't you?"

"Well, Your Grace, it certainly isn't diff-"

His gaze, darkly enigmatic in the amber lantern light, flicked ...