Page 45 of Only Scandal Will Do

“Come over tomorrow morning and we’ll ride before breakfast.” He gazed at her, brows puckered in confusion.

“I don’t know what the house boasts for breakfast, but we can find out together.” She placed a kiss on his cheek and whispered with conviction, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” As he opened his mouth to protest, she gave him a smile then propelled him through the door, trusting to the butler to show him out.

She turned back to discover her husband the only person left in the room. She did not know when his friends or Juliet had retired, but they were now quite alone. Squaring her shoulders, she raised her chin and looked at him evenly, waiting.

Dalbury strolled leisurely across the room and took her hand. She’d expected him to lead her from the room, but he bent as if to kiss the knuckles then flipped the hand over and placed a searing kiss on her palm.

Heat surged through her, as if his lips were burning embers. Her heart raced, and she could feel every nuance of his mouth, not only on her palm, but all over her body. She closed her eyes, suppressing a shiver as the sensation took her back to the bedroom in the House of Pleasure and the wonderful, wicked feelings she had tried to forget. Instead, she schooled her face into indifferent lines and forced herself to stand still.

“Lord Dalbury?” There was a hint of sarcasm in the words spoken through smug lips.

“Lady Dalbury.” He curled her hand through his and fastened it there. Perhaps he was afraid it would be used as a weapon. “Shall we retire?”

His dark brown eyes glinted at her, daring her to protest, to make a scene, to accept. She raised her eyebrows, but rather than speak, opened the door and started through it. Dalbury guided her to the stairs and they ascended slowly, in absolute silence that mimicked the hush of a battlefield just before the muskets begin to blaze.

CHAPTER 19

The marquess led Kat into a suite of rooms composed of a bedroom, dressing room, and bathing chamber. She glanced around the richly furnished room with its bronze and rose striped walls, an elegant gilt-edged chaise in matching rose-striped silk near a cheery fireplace, and the huge canopied bed hung with thick gold damasked curtains.

“This room adjoins mine.” He gestured to a door at one end. “The dressing rooms and bathing chambers are at the far ends. I have had the rooms freshened for you, but if you would like to make changes you may do so. Simply tell Grayson what you wish and he will send for the proper workmen.” Dalbury’s tone was matter-of-fact, but seemed to hold a hint of appeasement.

She walked toward the fireplace to survey the room dispassionately, finding much she liked. Keeping her expression carefully neutral, she acknowledged, “They will do, my lord. Are my belongings here? I am very tired and would like to go to bed.” She fought to keep a quaver out of her voice at those words.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I believe your maid had instructions to settle you in.” He stared at her, brows drawing down. “And you want to retire now?”

Alhough her heart hammered, she fought to remain composed. “Yes, my lord. It has been quite a trying day, has it not?”

“Indeed.” His face relaxed, a smile stealing over it. “You are being extremely sensible about our situation, my dear. More so than I would have believed earlier. You certainly seemed ready to bolt at one point.”

“But you know me so little. I do not know why you would expect to understand me.” The arrogant lilt in his voice coupled with the lustful gleam in his eyes was almost more than she could stand.

“I really think, under the circumstances, Katarina, you should call me Duncan.” He chuckled deep in his throat.

That laugh sealed his doom. Any thought of an amicable agreement between them died, as far as she was concerned. All the wretched memories of the dreadful night in March--being bound and gagged, that blackguard Nigel’s face when he’d threatened to cut her, standing on the auction block with people leering at her and Dalbury’s arrogant boast of being her master--came flooding to her at the sound of that smug chuckle. Coupled with the revelations of today, the enormity of her situation almost made her cry out. Chills raced through her, like ice water in her veins. She narrowed her eyes, jutted her chin and shook with fury.

Dalbury took a step back.

“I have not given you leave to use my name so familiarly, Lord Dalbury,” she said. “Nor will I address you in any other manner. If you wish to speak to me, you may call me Lady Dalbury. That is the name you have forced upon me, therefore, I assume it is the one you wish to use. I will answer to nothing else.”

“Katarina, I hardly think--”

Kat spun on her heel and walked two steps toward the fireplace. But attuned to him, she waited to hear the pursuit that would come. She stood stock-still until she sensed him close behind her, imagined she felt his breath on her neck.

“Katarina...”

She whirled about and put her hand out to ward him off.

He stopped mid-stride, looking wary, and took a step back.

“I am retiring for the night, Lord Dalbury,” she announced, with more courage than she felt. “I suggest you do the same. In case you do not recall, your bedroom is that way.” She pointed toward the far door.

Dalbury stared at her and sighed. “I had hoped that calm demeanor was real, Lady Dalbury.” He eyed her coolly from head to toe. “It would have made this evening much pleasanter.”

Nerves stretched so tight she could feel them crackle and her bravado worn perilously thin, she stood silent, not taking her eyes off him.

“You mean to deny me your bed?” The question came softly to her ears, but the underlying tone of amusement indicated he did not take her seriously.

“Yes, my lord. That is exactly my intention.”