His frank admission disturbed her, yet she couldn’t believe he could kill indiscriminately. She looked down at his hands. They were not a gentleman’s hands. The hard fingers were work-roughened, the palms callused, injured—Heather winced as she saw the fresh blood welling there. The fingers of his left hand oozed red, while the palm was scraped raw.

“You do indeed have blood on your hands,” she said somewhat tartly. “You must have hurt yourself when you climbed aboard that carriage. Those cuts should be dressed.”

When she reached for his injured hand, though, Sloan pulled it back, keeping it out of reach. “I don’t need a nursemaid, any more than I need a duchess.”

Her head snapped up at that, and he saw the flash of fire in her golden eyes. She looked as if she wanted to tell him to go to the devil but was too well-schooled in social niceties to be so blunt.

Sloan pressed his argument. “You would do better with Randolf. He’s more your style.”

“I believe,” she responded a bit testily, “that I am in a better position to decide what sort of husband Evan would make me.”

Sloan shrugged his muscular shoulders. “Maybe so. But I know what sort I would make. You wouldn’t be happy with me.”

Probably not, Heather thought, although she gritted her teeth and restrained herself from saying so. Happiness was a dream she could no longer afford. As long as her debts remained, she would be obliged to settle for a marriage of convenience, with the chance to do some good in her life.

She would not beg Sloan McCord to take her, though. Nor would she be the one to back out. If he meant to withdraw his offer, he would have to do so without help from her.

“I am sorry,” she replied coolly, “if you traveled all this way merely to dissuade me from marrying you, but I haven’t changed my mind. The advantages to us both outweigh the drawbacks. Indeed, I see no reason we cannot have a relationship based on mutual respect and shared goals.”

That seemed to stop him momentarily, but then his hard mouth curled.

“Some ladies have misguided notions about love.” His bright eyes pinned her, challenging her. “I loved my wife, duchess. I’m not looking for anyone to take her place.”

Her chin lifted again. “I would not dream of trying.”

“And then, we haven’t even discussed the matter of carnal relations yet.” His tone held a faint hint of warning as he moved toward her.

His closeness brought with it the animal heat of his body. Heather froze, her senses assailed by his potent male presence.