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accept his kiss and melted against him, eliminating the tiny gap that had separated their bodies.
    It was enough to prove him correct—she’d do well in his bed. Having satisfied that point, he could have ended the kiss and drawn back. But damned if he was going to. Not yet. Not when she drew her delicate hands up to rest on his shoulders, her bracelets jangling softly in h is ears and her pert breasts pressed seductively against his chest. Not when he could taste the hint of cinnamon tea on her lips. Not when the scent of her skin, a provocative blend of jasmine and spice, swirled around him like an intoxicant.
    A simple kiss wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
    But without warning, she broke their embrace and turned her head away. Derek dropped his arms and stepped back, watching in rapt fascination as her fingers moved to her mouth. She lightly brushed them across her lower lip as though expecting to find an imprint of his kiss still lingering there.
    Abruptly recovering herse lf, she brought up her chin. The women Derek knew had long ago learned the feminine art of schooling their emotions. It was a skill Miss Staunton had yet to acquire. Therefore he had the pleasure of watching as righteous indignation filled her face and sparks of accusation shot from her eyes. Her lovely lips parted.
    “That is not the way a man kisses a lady.”
    Perhaps not. “But i t’s the only way a man should kiss his wife.”
     
     

 
     
    Chapter Four
     
     
    Calla felt her heart give an odd little lurch, then it begin beating at triple its normal tempo. Wife. She tried to marshal an appropriate response, but her mind began spinning in dizzying circles. She was simply too close to the man to think properly. The parlor, which had seemed so large when she first stepped inside, shrank to the size of a china cupboard. Either that, or Lord Keating—enormous, hulking man that he was—was using up all the air.
    She took a shaky breath, stepped back a pace, and collected her thoughts. “Do you mean…”
    “You’ll do.”
    You’ll do.
    Not exactly the most promising words upon which to build a marriage. Then again, what had she expected? The old adage about being careful what you wish for flitted through her mind, but she chased it away with a flicker of irritation. She’d traveled halfway around the world to reach this agreement. It was all working out exactly as she’d hoped. She should be delighted. She was delighted.
    She swallowed hard and arranged her lips into something she desperately hoped resembled a smile. “Mrs. Singh will be delighted.”
    His mouth quirked. But his smile, if it had been there at all, vanished into an expression of grave solemnity. He gave a somber nod. “Excellent. I certainly wouldn’t want to disappoint Mrs. Singh.”
    A knock sounded on the door, saving her from the duty of finding an appropriate response. At Derek’s call to enter, a footman stepped inside. “Pardon, sahib. Your coach is ready.”
    “Very good.” Turning to her, he said, “Shall we?”
    Calla ’s brows knit together. “But, where are we going?”
    “Home.”
    “Yours?”
    A brief pause, then, “Ours, apparently.”
    Oh. She gave what she hoped was a sophisticated nod. She tried to move, but her feet seemed to have rooted themselves to the floor. When she spoke, her voice sounded small and breathless. “Of course. Yes. Ours.”
    He hesitated, eyeing her curiously. Folding his arms across his chest, he studied her with a look of undisguised amusement. “Having second thoughts already, are we, jaanu ?”
    Jaanu . Sweetheart. The word fell from his lips like a silky caress. It hung in the air between them, half teasing endearment, half outright challenge.
    If his purpose was to bait her into finding her spine, it worked. She brought up her chin and coolly met his gaze. “I merely meant to ascertain our destination so I could make arrangements for my trunks.”
    “Of course.” His expression excessively polite, he gave a