“Don’t you?” he asked, facing her with an arched brow. “I don’t believe you are real y so unaware of yourself. You al but attacked my footman, who did nothing to you but took you exactly where I asked him to.”
“But I asked him to take me to you,” she snapped, folding her arms. “I was very specific in my instructions.
”
“But I pay his salary,” Gareth said, his soft and even tone a counterpoint to the tremor in her own. She pursed her lips, for she had no answer for him. It was exactly as the servant, himself, had said. In truth, until she was marchioness over this house, if that ever indeed happened, there was no reason for any servant to do anything she asked.
Which meant Gareth had more power than she did in one more way.
“Now, wil you sit?” he asked, motioning to the seat beside his.
She hesitated, but then her stomach rumbled and she scowled. She did want to eat, so there was no choice. She trudged to the table and sat. To her surprise, Gareth set the plate he had prepared in front of her.
“Would you like tea?” he asked, motioning to the pot in the middle of the table.
She nodded and he poured first for her and then for himself. When he sat down, she took a bite of toast and watched him while she chewed.
“What is that look for?” he asked with a smile.
“I was just thinking, wasn’t I supposed to be your slave?” She motioned to the food before her. “And yet you are serving me.”
“You mistake politeness and care for slavery,” he said with another irritating smile. “You are my guest, I wish for you to be comfortable. That has nothing to do with your ultimate surrender in my bedroom.”
As much as she wished she could concoct one, Beatrice had very little response to Gareth’s quiet claim. At least none that wouldn’t make her look even worse than she already did. And for whatever reason, she didn’t want Gareth to view her in an even poorer light.
They sat quietly for a while. Gareth sipped his tea and thumbed through a stack of papers from London that had been set at his place before either of them even entered the room. Beatrice picked through her food, enjoying the fresh fruits, perfectly baked pastries and wel -done meats his staff had prepared. If she lived here, there was no doubt she would grow fat with such fare.
Through the silence, she waited. She watched. And after a quarter of an hour of comfortable silence had passed, she final y set her fork aside and stared at him.
“You are the most frustrating man in al the country,”
she snapped.
He lifted his gaze from his paper and stared at her.
“How in the world have I transgressed against you now? I have been quietly reading my paper while you had your breakfast. Or do you not approve of The Highcroft Weekly? It is a local gazette and I admit it leaves something to be desired in both content and the quality of its writing, but—”
“You know I don’t care one bit about your sil y paper,”
Beatrice interrupted with a sigh. “But we have been sitting here for Lord knows how long and you haven’t…
”
He raised his eyebrows in encouragement when she trailed off with a heated blush. “Haven’t?”
“You haven’t even tried to seduce me!” Beatrice final y huffed out. “Is that not why I am here? To see if we are compatible in a physical way? I somehow doubt that the two tumbles we had yesterday are enough to satisfy your curiosity about the subject. Not after how you built up what you want to such heights of drama.”
Gareth leaned back. “Beatrice, do you not think this is a seduction?”
“Of course it isn’t!” She tossed her napkin aside and pushed to her feet. “We are sitting having the most pushed to her feet. “We are sitting having the most mundane morning imaginable. I have sat at my own dining table with my mother like this a thousand times, though granted, it was, blessedly, more quiet here with you.”
He did not move, even when she paced away to the closest window in frustration.
“But when you sat with your mother al those times, were you thinking of sex?” he asked mildly.
She turned on him with an outraged gasp. “Of course not.”
“And yet this morning you were clearly thinking of seduction, because you spoke of it.” He tilted his head.
“Were you waiting for me to touch you, perhaps beneath the table? Or to whisper how much I wanted to bury my cock deep inside your pussy?”
Beatrice stiffened. She had never heard that term before, but she could wel imagine what he meant from its context.
“Were you?” he pressed.
She jerked out a nod. “Yes. You brought me here for sex. Of course I was thinking about it.”
“Then we are engaged in a seduction, my dear.” He final y pushed to his feet and moved toward her with a lazy possessiveness in his eyes.
Beatrice wanted to turn away from it, but remained rooted in her spot.
“While I sat beside you,” he murmured. “Al I could think about was the scent of you. It’s beginning to seep into me, and just the whiff of your skin makes me hard as a rock. I was watching you as you bent over your plate. Did you know even that slight motion gave me a tiny view of your cleavage in that gown?”
Beatrice looked down with a gasp.
“That little glimpse made me hot to bare your skin and touch you. But part of the seduction is waiting, Beatrice. It’s wondering when the moment wil come, because that makes the moment al the more enjoyable. Don’t you like waiting? Wondering when we wil once again melt into the passion we shared last night?”
Beatrice stared at him. He was closer than ever, just a pace’s length in front of her. She could feel his body heat, she could smel his skin just as he said he could smel hers. It was exciting and confusing and frustrating al at once.
“I don’t know,” she admitted as she wet her lips. He nodded as he reached out to trail just a fingertip down her cheekbone. She wanted to sigh into it, close her eyes, but she refused to show that weakness to him.
“That is very honest. Perhaps the first honest thing you have ever said to me.”
She wrinkled her brow. People despised her because she was too honest, didn’t they?
“What do you mean?” she asked.
He was damnably calm. “I think you are far less of a shrew than you wish people to believe.”
Beatrice flinched. She hated when he implied that he could see more of her than anyone else. The arrogance rankled her. And worse, she feared it might be true. She didn’t want him to see more. She didn’t want him to know her.
And so she pushed him away the only way she knew how. She blurted out, “Are you less of a murderer, my lord?”
The moment she said it, the moment Gareth’s eyes went hard as steel, she wished she could take it back. Because it had been a mistake and God knew how she would now pay.
Even though Beatrice’s sharp words did exactly as she had intended when she said them and cut him to the bone, Gareth did not react. Despite an anger that boiled up within him, he simply stared at her. Even. Focused. He found control and clung to it.
Beatrice turned her face. “Stop looking at me like that,” she whispered. He did not reply, but held his gaze steady. She shot him a glare from the corner of her eye. “Stop! ”
Stil , he remained steadfast. He stayed up against her, not al owing her to move, and he stared. Because he knew it would break her more than a thousand retorts could ever do. His focused, undivided attention was more punishment to Beatrice than anything else in the world.
He wanted to know why.
“I–I’m sorry,” she final y whispered, shifting uncomfortably. Her eyes darted up and he nodded.
“Thank you,” he whispered. Then he tilted his head slightly. “Why are you like this, Beatrice?”
She frowned and for the first time he truly saw her wal come down. The anger, the sharpness, the ferocity bled away, and it left in its wake a sadness that she al owed for only a brief moment.
She trailed off as if she didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Gareth nodded, thinking of the devastation of his own parents’ deaths. Only he had been left with a beloved grandmother who made every effort to ease his pain. Beatrice had been left with only her sisters and a mother who was difficult at best. Somehow he couldn’t picture Dorthea Albright offering comfort or sound guidance.
“It must have been difficult for you,” he said softly and he took a step back.
She slipped past him in the space he had afforded her and walked away slowly. With her back to him, she said, “It was. I was his princess. When he was gone, I lost everything I knew. Everything I was.”
She hesitated and he al owed her whatever thoughts had stopped her. Final y she turned and he actual y saw the hardness return to her stare, washing away the vulnerability she had shown him. If anything, she was more distant now than ever before.
“But I am being foolish. That was many years ago and it is unimportant now.”
Gareth chose not to argue or push, for it was clear those actions would garner him nothing but more of a fight. He had won his prize already. For the first time since he met her, he had seen something real in Beatrice. Something human that she might want to crush, but stil lived in her.
She might not want to give that to him, but he could take it. Through her body, he could steal that vulnerability and mold it.
“What is important, then, Beatrice?” he asked softly. He stepped up behind her at the window and leaned in, letting his body brush hers. She sighed very softly as their bodies touched, but did not answer.
He touched her shoulder and guided her around, pleased that she offered him no resistance. She might not know it, but she was already bending to his wil . She leaned against the clean glass, staring up at him with eyes glazed with passion and heat.
“What is important?” he repeated as he slipped his hands up to cover her breasts. She moaned.
“Th–this,” she stammered.
He nodded. “And do you want more?”
She bit her lip, her white teeth sinking seductively into the pink flesh. It took everything in him not to smash his mouth to hers.
“Yes,” she final y admitted. “I do want more.”
He slipped his hands from her breasts and caught her wrists. Without breaking eye contact, he lifted them up until he pinned her back against the window, arms above her head.
Her eyes widened and she looked at him in question and just a tinge of fear. But more than that, there was excitement in her stare. Pure desire that couldn’t be denied.
“You wil not come until I al ow it,” he ordered, bending to press his lips behind her ear. “Do you understand? If you orgasm before I tel you yes, you will be punished.”
She sucked in a breath as he drew back to stare down at her. He could see she wanted to refuse. She wanted to fight. But just as he hoped, she wanted to come more. She wanted to fuck and that overcame everything else.
“Fine,” she said through clenched teeth, but her hips were already rocking against his.
He smiled and dropped his mouth to hers. She lifted her chin, eagerly meeting his lips with parted ones. He took what she offered gently at first, simply enjoying the flavor of her mouth, the taste of tea and sweet jam stil lingered. But the longer he kissed her, the less gentle he became. He made his demands with his tongue, driving it deep into her eager mouth, he made more demands with his hips as he arched into her softness and heard the swish of her skirts against glass.
“Gareth,” she gasped as his lips left hers to move to her delicate throat. “We should go upstairs. We should—”
He pul ed back to look at her. “No one wil enter. They have strict instructions.”
She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. “But the window…someone could see.”
“Now, now, my dear,” he al but purred. “We have already established that you like the idea of someone seeing you…or hearing your pleasure.”
Beatrice gasped and her gaze flitted from his. “Of course not.”
“Do not forget about my servant, Beatrice,” he whispered. “I certainly have not.”
Her cheeks darkened and the flush spread down her neck to her chest.
“Th–that was a momentary weakness.”
He moved in for her throat again, murmuring against her skin, “Momentary? No, I think not. In some dark place you’ve tried so hard to hide, I imagine you can easily picture eyes on you as you come, seeing your pleasure. Wishing they were you. Or with you.”
She bit her lip and moved her hands against his, but he would not release her.
“This is where I want you, Beatrice,” he whispered.
“And I think you want me here, as wel . Surrender to al the pleasure you know I’l give.”
She arched against him with another moan as he bit her earlobe gently. “God, yes.”
He didn’t ask for more. He released her hands and quickly popped open the buttons along the front of her pretty gown. She shifted to let him push the gown away, fol owed by her chemise, and bare her breasts. Her gaze shifted to the dining room entryway, but then she arched in mute offering. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he dropped his head to her breast. He swirled his tongue around one hard nipple and reveled in the way her breath caught. She was writhing now, rol ing her hips against his as he tugged her tender flesh.
The rest of her dress swished around her ankles as he swept it aside, leaving her nearly naked right there in the dining room. Her backside molded against the glass and she gasped again.
“Cold?” he asked, lifting his mouth away from her breast.
She rol ed her head back. “I like it.”
His cock twitched at the admission. Damn, but this woman was built for sex and sin, no matter what kind of front she put on. No matter how she resisted, in the end it was in her nature to submit, to yield, to moan and beg for him. Once he had her ultimate surrender, it was going to be sweet.
For now, he would settle for this. He caught her wrists again, this time in one hand and pinned them to the glass. With the other hand he guided her legs open wide and stroked one finger along the entrance to her body. He growled out a sound of pure possession when he found she was wet and ready for him. But not yet. Not yet. He had told her she couldn’t come until he gave her permission.
It was time to test the bounds of her obedience. He spread her open, peeling the folds of flesh back until the wet pearl of her clit sparkled up at him. He licked his thumb and then lightly caressed the hard nub of flesh.
Immediately her hips twitched and she sighed out a gasp of surprised, intense pleasure. Already she was on the brink.
“Don’t forget what you promised, Beatrice,” he whispered. “You shal not come until you have my permission.”
She whimpered in response but she didn’t draw back or argue. Another step toward his ultimate plans for her. He stroked her slit again, gathering some of her own juices to lubricate her clit with another gentle pinch.
“It feels so good,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I want–I want—”
“You want to come,” he murmured, slipping a finger into her sheath and stroking her with one smooth thrust. She nodded as she arched against his touch.
“Ask me,” he said, ceasing al movement and catching her eye.
She stared at him, her lips trembling, her legs shaking from need and desire. Her sheath fluttered, but she wasn’t experienced enough yet to know that squeezing around him could help her gain release without his assistance. Or that rubbing against his poised thumb could relieve her. Later she would know these things, but she wouldn’t do them because he told her not to. He had no doubt she would eventual y be mastered.
“Ask,” he repeated.
“Please,” she whispered, high color darkening her cheeks. “Please let me…”
She opened and shut her mouth, searching for the word to d
escribe her release.
“Come,” he said when she hesitated. “You want to come.”
“I want to come,” she sobbed. “I want you to make me come. Please let me.”
“How?” he whispered, the sweet torment testing him as much as he tested her. “With my fingers, my mouth or my cock?”
She groaned. “Your–your mouth,” she gasped.
He arched a brow, taken aback by her answer. He hadn’t expected it so quickly and with such fervor.
“You liked it when I tongued your clit?” he said as he let go of her wrists and slid down her body, suckling her bare skin along the way. “You liked it when I tasted your release?”
“Yes,” she cried as he blew out a breath against her sheath. “Yes, I liked it. Please, let me have that again.”
“Wait,” he reminded her. “Wait for me to tel you when.”
She jerked out a nod. Now that her hands were free, she tangled one in his hair, but the other rested against the window behind her, fingers curling and opening against the glass in hopeless fists as she waited and tried to control her trembling body.
He pressed a kiss to her outer lips gently, then opened her. His tongue came out and he lapped her clit just once. She yelped a sound of pleasure and her fingers tightened in his hair.
He drove his tongue inside of her, tasting her desire, scenting how close she was to utter explosion, but not ready to al ow it yet. He wanted her to depend on him for the permission. To wait, as he had ordered, even though it went against her body’s needs and her own mind.
“Not yet,” he whispered against her skin.
She tensed and he felt her grappling for control, reaching for some kind of sanity even as he licked and sucked her closer to oblivion. Final y, he returned to her clit. He sucked it once and she bucked, but to her credit she did not surrender to her own desires. She fol owed his order.
The second time, he felt her sheath begin to quiver and he knew she was at the brink. In a moment, she wouldn’t have a choice, she would come whether she tried to stop it or not.
“Now,” he said. “Come for me, Beatrice.”
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