Page 9 of Daring the Forbidden Earl
“Might you watch where you are leading me?” she hissed, offering an apology to the glowering young lady whose gown she had almost trodden upon.
Mark raised a haughty eyebrow. “I would if you were not so ungainly to lead. It is like heaving a lamed mare around.” He laughed tightly. “I thought you were supposed to be graceful?”
“And I thoughtyouwere supposed to be a famed gentleman, known for your sweet words and kindly manners?” she shot back, her cheeks searing with a different kind of heat. A frustrated, irritated burn.
Why was she not permitted the same courtesies as every other lady in London when it came to him? What had she done that was so very despicable? Even now, she did not understand why he seemed to hate her. True, she had married his uncle, but Nora had married his best friend, and he showed no animosity toward her. Was it something Peter had done that, by association, made her wretched? She could not think what.
Mark scoffed. “I am very selective in whom I grace with my charms.”
“I do not think that can be true,” she retorted, wrinkling up her nose. “If you were to write a memoir of all the ladies you have taken to your bed, I do believe it would have to be divided into a hundred volumes, and each one would have to be delivered in a reinforced cart.”
Mark met her heated gaze. “If you think me such a vile rogue, then why did you agree to dance with me? Why are you not standing by and whispering with the ladies about how atrocious a scoundrel I am?”
“I did not agree,” she snapped, struggling to keep her voice low. “Nora practically threw you at me, and thenyouseizedmeand began dragging me about the ballroom before I could even think to refuse. You even said, ‘We must dance,’ though I do not know why we should.”
They continued to turn and twirl to the ebb and flow of the music, though Johanna could barely hear it above the rush of blood in her ears. Never in her life had she met anyone who made her feel so irritated and aroused, all at once. And he seemed equally irked by her, though she wished she knew what she had done to deserve his frequent contempt.
“Would it truly kill you to say one nice word to me?” Her voice slipped out as a strangled whisper.
Mark unleashed a deep sigh. “Yes, I think it would.”
“Why?”
Mark pulled her tighter to him and leaned into her ear. “You know why. I have made it abundantly clear.”
The pressure of his body against hers made it impossible to breathe, much less speak. There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask, considering his reasons were not clear at all, but they would not come out. All she could think about was the press of his hand, where it now rested on the small of her back, and the fiery caress of his warm breath against her throat.
If this music did not stop soon, releasing her from this confusing encounter, she felt certain she might faint.
How can I despise a man so much, and yet want to feel his hands on me? I have taken leave of my senses, I am sure of it.
“I shall take your silence as understanding,” he whispered, causing another hot caress of his breath to skim across her skin.
Her chest heaved frantically as she clung onto him, not wanting to lose her footing in her dizziness. But, with every exhale that slipped between her lips, she felt his embrace pressing her ever closer into him, as though she were being constricted in the most seductive way.
All of a sudden, the orchestra came to a conclusion, and the waltzing partners either remained where they were or broke away in order to take up new partners.
As for Mark and Johanna, it appeared they could not separate from one another, as they stayed pressed together, staring into one another’s eyes. She did not know if they were at a combative stalemate, or if this was something else, for there was a peculiar glint in his golden-brown eyes that did not seem remotely aggressive. Rather, it seemed longing.
“Why do you hate me?” she rasped, her mouth so close to his that she could have kissed him if she had only accentuated her words. They were both panting heavily, as though they had endured a long distance race.
He licked his lips, the sight of his tongue making Johanna’s chest clench. “Why doyouhateme?”
“Because you are impossible,” she replied, her skin tingling as though she had succumbed to a fever.
He laughed, his mouth coming closer. “Iam impossible?”
“I am not one of your pleading girls, begging to be adored by you.” Her fingertips dug into his shoulder. “And you cannot stand that. You want to be loved and admired by all, and you hate me because I am immune to your charms.”
If only that were true…
She held his gaze defiantly, determined to be the victor of this battle. She did not even care that congregation was beginning to stare at them.
His mouth twisted up and he immediately released her. “You think that is why I cannot stand to be near you?”
“What other reason could there be?” She sucked in breath after breath, now that she was absent his grasp.
The longing glint vanished from his eyes, replaced by cold contempt. “If you do not know, then you are more of a fool than I thought you were. Think of who you married, and the abhorrent man he was, then you might find your answer.”
