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you’re not in Richard’s position, isn’t it? For the record, Lucian, Richard Dearborn is the man I may marry. That decision, however, lies in the future. He has no ‘claim’
    on me, as you so chauvinistically phrase it I assure you, you are perfectly safe.“
    Lucian looked down into his wine as if he’d discovered something fascinating floating on the surface of the Riesling. “If you’re thinking of marrying him, you must be sleeping with him. If you’re sleeping with him, you’re asking for trouble by pulling off this little stunt behind his back. I, as the person most likely to be clobbered in the process, am afraid 1 must object.“
    “I am not sleeping with him!“ Ariana yelped, losing the tenuous grip on her temper. “There! Are you satisfied? I’
    m not having an affair with anyone. You’re safe, magician. Do you hear me? Safe!“
    Lucian raised his head once more, and for the life of her Ariana couldn’t read the expression in those topaz eyes, but that didn’t lessen the impact of his glittering glance. Behind the lenses of his glasses, the honeyed depths of his eyes seemed to burn for a moment and then the fire was gone to be replaced by something much cooler and more controlled.
    “I apologize for pushing you so hard about it,“ he said quietly. “I had to know exactly what I was getting into.“ His voice sounded strained.
    Ariana shifted restlessly as she got her emotions back under control. “Forget it I just didn’t realize how upset a man in your position would be about the prospect of Richard misunderstanding the situation.“
    “No,“ he agreed. “You didn’t.“
    “Believe me, Richard would not be a threat, even if things between him and me were as you thought“
    “I see,“ Lucian said very neutrally.
    Ariana sighed in exasperation. “I don’t think you do see but it really doesn’t matter as long as you’ll still agree to help me in this project.“
    “Oh, yes. I’ll help you. I made up my mind about that last night“
    Her eyes widened. “Then why the hell did you just put me through that inquisition?“ She got to her feet abruptly.
    “Oh, never mind. I don’t think I want to hear any more of your convoluted masculine reasoning. I’ll serve dinner.“
    With a regal, impatient stride she headed for the kitchen and once more he followed. This time he leaned in the kitchen doorway, watching as she prepared to serve.
    “I take it that if and when you do decide to marry Richard, you envision a very modern sort of arrangement?“ he finally queried in a very conversational tone. He sniffed appreciatively as she withdrew the baked salmon from the oven.
    “If you’re talking about a so-called open marriage when you say ‘modern,’ most definitely not I am a firm believer in fidelity. But if, on the other hand, you’re talking about a financially and legally modern marriage, then, yes, I do want a modern relationship,“ she agreed almost absently, concentrating on arranging the fish on a warmed platter. She could feel his eyes on her as she worked, and wondered at the intensity of his gaze.
    “What’s that mean?“ he asked.
    “It means that I would never enter into marriage without such things as a clear and binding prenuptial agreement, for example,“ she told him, swinging around to thrust the platter into his hands. “Here, make yourself useful and take this over to the table.“
    “A marriage contract?“ He accepted the platter, but his attention was on her as she turned back to the oven for the tray of Duchesse Potatoes. She heard the startled tone in his voice.
    “Exactly. A contract protects both parties. It’s the only sensible way to go about something as uncertain as marriage.“
    There was a silence behind her, and when she moved to carry the potatoes to the table she found that Lucian had already placed his platter on the round dining room table. “I take it you don’t agree, Lucian?“ she smiled, faintly amused. She put down the potatoes