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He laughed again. “No, I imagine so. Don’t worry, my pet. There are plenty of other places we could do it.”
“Do what?” she said, mystified, before she realized what he meant. She started to struggle then, not caring what part she hit. “Let me up.”
He caught both her wrists in one hand and hauled them above her head, his hips pinned hers, and his legs trapped her own. “I didn’t invite you here,” he pointed out. “You simply waltzed in, in the middle of the night, and I’m never a man to turn down such a generous offer.”
“I told you, I was looking for laudanum!” She was trapped beneath him, even more thoroughly than she had been before, and she knew she should be terrified. She couldn’t decipher what she was feeling. Fear was part of it, certainly. But so was a strange sense of longing she didn’t quite recognize. Her breasts were pressed against him, and they ached. Everything was aching in an entirely different way than it had been before. Her entire body felt hot, restless, edgy.
“Beneath my mattress?” His voice was like a purr. “I promise you, my very dear Miss Greaves, I don’t hide my vices. I keep them in plain sight for any curious housekeeper to come across.”
“Your laudanum was in the drawer,” she said before she could consider the wisdom of it.
“I don’t like laudanum. It’s a watered-down drug for ladies. Is that what’s digging into my hip?” Before she realized it he’d reached between their bodies, his hands brushing against her stomach as he searched for the pilfered bottle, and heat and shock exploded through her. He found her pocket and pulled out the bottle, holding it up to the tiny shaft of moonlight that speared in through the curtains. And then he really did laugh, so hard that he released her, falling against her, convulsed in such mirth that she was able to shove him off her, almost able to escape before he caught one wrist and hauled her back.
“That’s not laudanum, my precious. That’s something else entirely, and you would have been very sorry if you’d tried to drink it.”
She wasn’t going to ask him. Damn it, she wasn’t going to say a word. “Then what is it?”
“It’s an interesting oil from the Far East that helps intensify certain… pleasures. I’d be more than happy to demonstrate, but with such a puritanical virgin I think a simple fucking would be more than enough for the first time.”
She froze at his offhand words. She tried to speak, but when the words came they were shamefully weak. “Are you going to rape me?”
“Of course not. I wouldn’t have to. I could have you eating out of my hand if I set my mind to it.”
She ground her teeth. “I am not a virgin, I am not puritanical, we are not going to have any kind of… carnal debauchery at all. Now let me up.”
He didn’t laugh at her this time. He fell back against the mattress with a weary sigh, still holding on to her wrist. “Now that’s the damnable problem, my angel. I’m all set to play the villain, have my disgusting, delicious way with you to both your pleasure and mine, and you say something completely adorable like ‘carnal debauchery.’ How is a man to react to something like that?”
“He’s supposed to release me.”
“I ought to,” he said. “If I had any scrap of decency left in me.” He turned his face, and she could see him in the shaft of moonlight, his skin white gold. It was then she realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Realized that he wasn’t wearing anything at all. “Fortunately,” he added, “any decency is long gone.” And he pulled her over on top of him.
“If you keep this up I’m going to get dizzy.” This time she managed a satisfactorily dry, cautious tone.
He put his lips to her ear, and she could feel his hot breath against her skin. “You already are dizzy, my dear Miss Greaves. Your heart is pounding, your pulses are racing, and your nipples are hard. I’m willing to bet my sweet little virgin is wet.”
She frowned, ignoring the nipple part. “Wet?”
“Between your legs. It’s a sign of arousal, your body readying itself for mine.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“That’s delicious,” he corrected her. “Shall I see?” And his hand slid down her thigh to the hem of her nightdress. She slapped at him, but he simply caught that hand with her other. “This isn’t going to hurt, precious. I just want a taste. A forfeit, since you were the one who decided to come to my bed.”
“Your bedroom,” she corrected, “and I told you, I was looking for—”
“Yes, you told me, and I don’t believe you.”
“Let me up,” she said fiercely.
“Not yet. I require two things before I release you.”
“Name them.” She would make a bargain with the devil to get away from him. Before she didn’t want to leave at all.
The bed was so warm, and soft beneath her. It smelled wonderful, of spice and wood and Kilmartyn, some scent all his own, and it would be so easy to lie back and let him do what he wanted. There was even a certain sense to it—if she had relations with him he might lower his guard. It wasn’t as if she ever planned to marry—the loss of her virtue would be no loss at all, and it would slake her endless curiosity.
She was mad! She needed to get away from him—these thoughts were insane.
Before she realized what he was doing he’d slid one arm around her waist, pulling her against him, and his other hand moved up to her throat, his long fingers cupping her chin, stroking. He moved closer, blotting out the fitful light, and she thought, now I am going to be kissed, really kissed, and she closed her eyes, preparing herself.
