When Sloan reached up to brush her lower lip again with his thumb, another strange, warm sensation jolted her. She had never had such a primal reaction to a man. He made her very aware of her femaleness. He made her feel as if her corset was laced too tight. As if she couldn’t take a deep breath. Sweet heaven, she was acting no better than that foolish girl from the carriage—practically swooning at his feet.

“Are you afraid of me?” he demanded, his voice suddenly low and husky.

Perhaps a little, Heather reflected silently.

“Aren’t you afraid I might hurt you?”

Slowly she shook her head. With an instinct as strong as it was inexplicable, she knew Sloan McCord wouldn’t harm her physically. Caitlin had said he was a good man, and although he looked dangerous, even a bit uncivilized, his violence was somehow leashed. No, she’d seen for herself his concern for others … that flash of tenderness in his eyes earlier when she’d stood trembling in fear from Evan’s assault, the protectiveness when he spoke of his daughter … “A … man who would risk his life to stop a runaway carriage does not seem the kind to harm women.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

Her spine stiffened at the threat in his tone. He was testing her, she suspected. Trying to get her to back down. But she would not be cowed. “That is my point precisely. You are judging me based solely on appearances.”

The sharp tension was back in the air between them. She could feel his intensity, the raw, powerful vitality that hummed around him.

His gaze bored into her, penetrating in a way that was disturbingly intimate. “Maybe you don’t understand. I’m not interested in merely a business arrangement. You wouldn’t be my wife in name only.”

“I … am aware of that.”

Sloan smiled. “Are you now? Are you aware that I’m a man of great carnal need?”

“What … do you mean?”

“Shall I be blunt, duchess? I’ll want sex with you. Regularly and often. Do you know what sex is? You’ll share my bed, and give me your body whenever I want it.”

She flinched at his bluntness, Sloan saw with satisfaction. He no doubt had offended her ladylike sensibilities. Then she raised her eyes to meet his fearlessly. He liked that even more.

“I am prepared to do my duty as your wife.”

A hard smile touched his lips. “Duty? That’s precisely my point. I’m not interested in a cold-blooded mate. Colorado winters get frigid enough without having an icicle in my bed.”

The flush that tinged her cheeks told Sloan he’d struck a nerve. His ma, had she been alive, would have taken a strip off his hide for talking that way to a lady. But it wasn’t bad manners driving him to be so crude. He was fighting for his own survival.