by Anne Stuart
He laughed then. "You have every right to be careful. I'm capable of very bad behavior indeed. But I do stop short of pressing my attentions on women I don't know. I'm offering you safe escort, nothing more."
She was more than ready to keep arguing, when in the distance she heard Lina's voice, hectoring Sir Percy. "I saw her come this way..."
"Is that your companion?" he questioned politely.
"No!" If he recognized Lina it would only be a moment before he recognized her. She had to think fast. "Indeed, I would appreciate your assistance. Let's go."
Was there a trace of triumph on his mouth? She simply put her gloved hand on his arm and proceeded
His hand covered hers. "Wrong direction.” Bloody hell, she thought, certain he was about to turn her in the direction of Lina's voice, but instead he simply pulled her onto one of the side paths, into the darkness, moments before Lina and Sir Percy arrived on the scene.
She was moving so quickly she didn't stop to consider that he was making no effort to slow her rapid pace. His long legs kept up with her, and within moments they were out of earshot as well as out of sight, and she breathed a sigh of relief as he led her farther along the darkened path, slowing her headlong pace.
"Was there someone you wished to avoid? I mean, aside from your assailant," he said lazily. "Of course not. Why would you say so?" "Because you practically sprinted away from the maze when you heard people coming. Or is it simply that you don't wish to be seen with me?'" There was that damnable undercurrent of amusement in his voice, the one she remembered. Did he find all women amusing?
"Why should I worry about being seen with you?"
"Because you clearly know who I am. You called me 'my lord,' and that was no accident. And if you know who I am then you doubtless know my reputation, which is far from stellar. Merely to be seen alone with me is enough to get you compromised."
She considered denying it. He was leading her farther away from the light, and she knew a sudden nervous anticipation. Was he going to make an advance under cover of darkness? She already knew he would never force her. Was there a chance she could enjoy one last, anonymous kiss before he placed her into a coach?
If he tried, she would let him, she decided. Her ankle was throbbing—she'd twisted it in the maze, reaggravating the injury, and she tried not to favor it more than necessary, not to lean on his strong arm.
"Viscount Rohan is fairly notorious, even for those of us who don't travel in his circles." She may as well be bold—pretended ignorance wasn't getting her anywhere. "We shared the same dance set earlier, and someone pointed you out to me.”
"Did we?" he said, and her irritation increased. Were all women invisible to him, or only she?
She looked around her. It was quite dark, though she could see the occasional light up ahead. "Where are you taking me?” she demanded.
"Where do you think?" he countered.
She wasn't going to be forced into voicing her secret fears that were just as much desires. "I would hope you were taking me to the hackney stand on the west entrance of the park. Anything else would be unacceptable."
"And I would never think of doing anything unacceptable, fair lady," he said with exaggerated courtesy.
She wanted to kick him. He was flirting with a stranger, his charm given to anyone who took his fancy. This was a good thing, she told herself as the lights grew brighter. It was a salutary lesson as to how interchangeable she was. She'd meant nothing to him, the jaded son of a bitch. And if she hadn't been entirely over him before, she was now, she assured herself. The swiving, self-centered peacock, vain, selfish, offal-munching...
"Is something distressing you, oh mysterious one?" he murmured.
“Why would you say so?"
“Because you suddenly dug your fingers into my arm as if you wanted to rip my skin," he observed affably.
She pulled her hand away. "I beg your pardon," she said in her muffled voice. "I was thinking of someone.”
"Were you indeed? Perhaps a former lover?"
"Why would you say that?"
"I've found most liaisons don't end well. At least one side is left feeling abandoned and hurting."
He'd pegged her well. She straightened her shoulders, continuing her forward stride. "If that is the case, sir, then why indulge in them? Wouldn't it be easier not to bother in the first place?"
He laughed softly. "The bother, as you sadly put it, is so delightful while it lasts," he murmured too close to her ear. "And I would never resist the call of delight."
She jumped away from him, unnerved, only to realize they'd somehow managed to reach the west end of the park, despite his circuitous route. And she didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
There were hackneys lined up, as well as sedan chairs, a couple of open phaetons and a closed town coach. She breathed a sigh of relief. She was safer in the bright light— by sight she was totally unrecognizable. Granted, she was a tall woman, but she wore flat slippers when most women wore jeweled heels on their shoes, and she was trying to keep her head down. In the dark she was probably just as interchangeable as any of his other light o' loves, but she'd spent most of her time in the shadows with him. There might be other ways to tell him who she was, assuming he even remembered her existence.
She took her hand from his arm and gave him a small curtsy. "You've been very kind. Lord Rohan," she said. "I will bid you good-night..."
"Allow me to hand you into the carriage," he said politely, taking her arm and leading her toward one of them. In days to come she would berate herself for being so unobservant, but at the time she was so relieved to have made it through the evening without being recognized that she probably would have climbed into the royal coach without looking.
The door was opened, the steps came down, and he put his wide hands around her slim waist and lifted her into a closed carriage that was far too elegant to be a hired hackney, and then the coach dipped beneath his weight as he followed her in, closing the door behind them, shutting them into the darkness.
She opened her mouth to scream, but he simply stopped her with his mouth, kissing her, holding her still as the carriage moved forward with an almost imperceptible jerk.
She fought him, furious. She had thought he was above such shoddy tricks, absconding with unprotected females. She tried to use her knee, but he simply put one of his long, heavy ones over hers, trapping her in place. She tried her elbows, but his arm snaked around her, imprisoning her against him.
Oh, God, she wanted to kiss him back, she wailed inwardly, keeping her jaw clamped shut. She wanted to taste him, fall back against the squabs and let his mouth wander everywhere. His hand was cradling the back of her neck, slowly massaging it, and she could feel herself begin to melt anyway, soften against the steady pressure of his strong body.
He lifted his mouth for a brief moment, and in the darkness of the unlit carriage she could see the glitter of his eyes. "Open your mouth for me. Charlotte," he whispered. "I've been waiting hours to kiss you and I'm running out of patience."
Her shock was enough that she did as he told her, and his kiss was full and deep, a possessive hunger she felt vibrating through her body. She stopped struggling, when she knew full well she should have fought even harder. She let him kiss her, closing her eyes and savoring the taste of him in her mouth, and he pulled her unresisting body onto his lap.
"You can do better than that, sweet Charlotte. By the time I left you, you were growing quite adept. Give me your tongue.”
“Give me yours," she murmured, “and I’ll bite you.”
She could feel the laugh rumble through his body as it pressed against hers. "No, you won’t." And he proved it, tilting her head back, cradling it with one of his hands, and kissing her so thoroughly she felt as if she were melting against him. She made a small, whimpering noise, and she knew what it was. The sound of surrender.
He'd removed her loo mask and tossed it to one side, and he was busy unfastening the ribbons that held the domino close abo
ut her. "How could you think I wouldn't know you?" he chided softly. "I know the way you move, the way you bite your lip when you're nervous, the sound of your laughter, your eyes. I know your hands and your skin, your scent, the way you try to pretend that something doesn't bother you when you're very bothered indeed." He slid one hand down between them, between her thighs, and she tried to squirm away from him. "Though I must admit I'd like to hear your laugh more often. Perhaps see you scowl less and smile more.”
“Leave me the hell alone," she said breathlessly, hoping the curse added the peremptory note mat her aching voice lacked.
He caught her chin, pulling it up to meet his face, and she looked into his devastating smile. "I can't do that, love. That's been my problem for the last three weeks. I can't stop thinking about you, and I'm afraid no one else has managed to distract me.”
So she wasn't alone in this, she thought miserably. That was something, at least. He lusted after her. She could feel his erection beneath her hips, and she moved, just enough, a subtle caress that made his arms tighten around her.
“Holy Christ," he muttered in her ear. "Don't do that."
“Why?"
“Because I'd like to wait until we get back to my house."
Her heart leaped into her throat. "I'm not going to your house."
"I'm afraid you are, love. You're in my carriage, and that's where we're heading. Don't worry—I'll send a note to Lady Whitmore, telling her you're safe. No one else will have any idea you've gone off for a libidinous interlude."
"I'm not going anywhere at all with you. Leave this carriage."
"It's my carriage," he said apologetically. "I made arrangements after I saw you dancing. You told me you didn't dance. Come to think of it, I remember an occasion when you trampled on my feet hard enough to cripple me for days. Do you save your wicked clumsiness for me alone?"
She could feel the color flood her face. Suddenly it was three years before and she was gawky, clumsy, so in awe of the man that her feet didn't move. New strength swept through her, and she yanked herself out of his arms. He let her go, and she ended up on the opposite side of the coach, glaring at him.
"Don't be ridiculous. You danced with me, and with several other fortunate gentlemen. I was quite annoyed with them."
He was lying. It was all part of his mockery, and she couldn't understand what pleasure he derived out of being so cruel. "Have you ever seen me dance in public, my lord? Normally I would assume you wouldn't have paid attention one way or the other, but I assure you tonight is the first time I've danced since that unfortunate time you were forced to partner with me at Lady Harrison's." Her voice was flat, emotionless. If he wanted to embarrass her, cause her pain, she wasn't going to let him see it.
"Do you expect me to be shamed by that? How foolish of you, to let a dandy's stray comments affect you. If I listened to all the malicious things people have to say about me, I'd be curled up in a ball somewhere." He paused, looting at her. "Is that what you did? After I effectively demolished you?"
"You don't even remember," she muttered, not wanting to look at him.
"Lady Harrison's. You were wearing some abominable pink creation that clashed with your glorious copper hair. We danced a country dance, a complicated one, I believe. I think it was 'Prince William.'"
To this day Charlotte couldn't hear the strains of "Prince William" without feeling ill. She stared at him in disbelief.
"And you remember all this because...?" she said
His half smile was barely visible in the coach. "Because I'm seldom such a total bastard, and I try not to pick on the defenseless. You looked so crushed that I never forgot it."
"And this is the way you apologize? By abducting me?”
"No, my precious. My apology was that delicious fuck we had three weeks ago. Abducting you now, as you insist on calling it, is my way of repeating that most excellent activity."
She stared at him, openmouthed in astonishment at his gall. How dare you was too mild a response— she simply stared at him in disbelief. And then she moved, lunging for the door.
The carriage was going at a fast clip, and she was halfway out the door when he caught her, dragging her back in before she could tumble to the hard, filthy streets. She landed on the floor, and he held her there as he locked the carriage door.
"You idiot," he said, all humor and sly seduction vanishing. "You could have been killed. I don't travel at a leisurely pace—you could have broken your neck."
"Good," she snapped.
"Death before dishonor? Too late, my precious. I've already dishonored you quite completely, and I have every intention of doing so again."
She lunged for the door again, but he caught her easily enough, pulling her up onto the seat. And then he let go of her.
"You're so gullible, precious," he said in a weary voice. "How many times must I tell you I won't force you. Did I make you do anything you didn't want to do?”
“You tricked me," she said darkly. "You seduced me into it.”
"Of course. That was my intention. I’m very good at what I do. Isn't that the reason you gave in? If you were going to have sex, it might as well be with a master.”
"So humble, too” she murmured.
He moved his mouth close, so close. "Accept it, sweet Charlotte. I can take you home with me and make you come just by kissing your breasts, and you know it. Don't you, love? And you want me inside you."
She was having trouble breathing. She could almost feel his mouth on her as the words hit her ears. Her nipples hardened against her corset, and she felt wet between her legs.
At this rate he could make her come just by talking to her.
Adrian Rohan was a dangerous man. Too dangerous for her.
“No," she said, her voice wobbling slightly when she wanted it firm. "I'm telling you no."
"All right," he said amiably, not at all shattered by her rejection. "There are endless women who'd happily lift their skirts for me. I don't need to force anyone. I thought you might enjoy another taste of the forbidden, but since you so clearly regret our time together I'll find someone else."
Her head was going to explode. She needed her mask, but in their wrestling match it had been crushed. She reached behind her for the hood of the domino and tried to pull it over her head, but his hands caught hers. "No, you don't. Not that I don't despise the hair powder—that must have been Lady Whitmore's asinine idea. It's a crime to cover hair as glorious as yours."
"Stop it," she said. Good. Her unshed tears were making her voice hoarse, and it came out sounding calm and angry. "Why did you...did you...?"
"Why did I fuck the sweet hell out of you a few weeks ago at the gathering of the Heavenly Host? Because you were there, and I must admit I enjoyed myself tremendously. I'm afraid I don't need a great deal of motivation for these things. In your case I imagine it was the novelty of it all. I'd forgotten all about you, and then there you were, right in front of me. Just like tonight. I have to say it seems like Providence, since I hadn't made any other arrangements for female companionship tonight. But if you'd rather not, then so be it. Perhaps Lady Whitmore might be interested in providing me with entertainment."
His calm, cruel words were like knives, and yet she didn't flinch. Later, when she was alone, the words would sink in, but for right now she was too angry, too proud to let him see how he'd wounded her.
"I doubt Lina would be interested," she said in a cool voice. "She doesn't usually want my leftovers."
"Brava," he said softly. "Fight back."
Which was exactly what she planned to do. "As for novelty, you'd be a fool to try to repeat it. You can only deflower someone once, and as you've pointed out, I'm hardly the kind of woman you usually dally with. You prefer beauties, women who are adept at pleasing a man, who know all sorts of tricks and games to please you. You wouldn't want to bother with a clumsy spinster again."
"True... But she was so delightfully besotted with me.”
She wanted to kill him. I
f she'd had a knife she probably would have stabbed him. As it was, she had nothing but words to hit back with.
"You took care of that, my lord," she said, not bothering to deny it. "One night with you is a most effective cure."
It was supposed to infuriate him. Instead he laughed softly. "Of course it is. And it was two nights. You don't want me to kiss you, do you?"
"The thought disgusts me."
He moved closer, and she could feel his body heat in the cool night air. "And you don't want my mouth on your breasts, sucking your nipples into hard little berries.”
It didn't need his mouth—his words had had the same effect as she felt her nipples tighten. Fortunately he couldn't see beneath the layer of clothes she wore. "Absolutely not."
"And you don't want my mouth between your legs, my tongue teasing you into such peaks of pleasure that you cry out?"
She was wet now. He probably knew it, but it didn't matter. "I'm not fond of perversion."
"I suppose that means I can't talk you into taking my cock into your mouth then."
She was so shocked she couldn't find the words to refute it. Finally she said, "You sick bastard."
"Oh, my love, not sick at all. It's quite lovely, and some women, the very best of women, enjoy it as well. So I gather this means you don't want me inside you, riding you, pumping you, making you cry and scream with pleasure?"
"You're a pig," she snapped.
"It's a pig's world. So the answer is no, my precious?"
The smug, cruel bastard. The beautiful, wicked, hurtful man with the hands of a devil and the mouth of an angel. He would take her back to Grosvenor Square, and she would slink into the house, go up to her room and curl up into the ball he talked about.
"The answer is yes," she said. And had the pleasure to see his face freeze in shock.
17
Never would Adrian Rohan have thought that a woman's acquiescence would send a cold chill down his back. It had no effect on his cock, which had been painfully hard since he'd put his hands on her, which had been at least at half-mast since he'd spotted her on the dance floor and moved heaven and hell to join her set. This was supposed to be a salutary lesson, a way to get over her. Instead he was seducing himself as he was seducing her.
