Page 47 of The Lady's Guide to Marrying a Viscount
“Mais, non! Je ne peux pas!”
She attempted to dart past, obliging him to clasp her arm and pull it from her grasp. Despite her desperate clutching, he wrenched it free. Pale with fright, she sobbed and scurried away.
It gave Mallon no pleasure to treat her so but, knowing the content of the last note Geneviève had written, he was determined to read this one.
It took but a moment to scan the message.
My Darling Hugo
We must speak privately. Come to my room with all haste.
Geneviève
Mallon’s fury rose on seeing the words. He’d been coming to her in good faith, wishing to apologize for having fled the night before. It was not the idea of love that terrified him but the power it would give another over his heart—the ability to betray and crush. He’d been willing to take that leap for Geneviève, letting her into the place he’d kept guarded.
Now, he saw she was up to her old tricks, undeterred from her goal. The profession of love she’d offered the night before meant nothing. This was her solution to having her hand forced. She intended to compromise Hugo by enticing him to her bedchamber, extracting his proposal as a consequence.
Mallon had been right to be wary. What a performance she’d given at the inn! She’d almost convinced him that she harbored true feelings.
It had all been a lie.
Reaching her door, he gave a cursory knock before pushing it open. She was upon the far side of the room,gazing into the fire, her long hair hanging loosely down her back.
He swallowed.
She wore nothing but a gossamer-light peignoir. With the firelight behind her, the gauzy fabric was utterly transparent. Despite his anger, Mallon was rendered mute by the swell of her bottom. There was no fighting the familiar ache in his groin.
“My love,” she whispered. “I knew you’d come.” As she turned, her face expressed surprise, then a flash of irritation, before her features settled into an audacious air.
The revealing gown was clearly for Hugo’s benefit. Facing Mallon, she gave him a tantalizing view of the curve of her breasts and the shadow of lush, dark curls between her legs.
Mallon’s blood ran hot. He’d teach her what it meant to trifle with a man’s passion. It would take no time to cover the distance between them and tear the delicate gown from her shoulders. If she screamed, he’d smother it with a kiss, but he knew she’d neither scream nor pull away. He’d only to grasp her firmly about those generous hips, and she’d be his, her warmth sheathing him as he drove full hilt.
While he fought the urge, she padded barefoot toward him, a look of challenge in her eye. “It seems you cannot keep away, Lord Wulverton.”
She was standing improperly close, as if daring him to lay hands upon her. “You seek something from me?” Her eyes lowered to the tailoredfit of his trousers, the tightness of which permitted no concealment of his arousal.
Despite all her games, his craving for her was undeniable, but he could not abase himself. To declare his need for her or make any declaration of feeling, would be to place himself in her power.
“I do.” He gritted his teeth, unable to utter what had been in his heart. “I thought you’d see reason, but apparently not.” He held up the note, written in her hand, before tossing it away. “I demand you abandon your pursuit of Hugo.”
“After all my efforts?” she arched her brow. “I could only consider such a retreat if there were compensation...” She tilted back her head as she spoke, her lips tauntingly near, her fingers touching lightly upon his shirt.
The desire to bury his mouth upon hers and pull her ripeness into his arms threatened to overwhelm him, but to do so would bring him right back to where he’d begun. He thirsted for her, yes, but on his terms.
“I was unaware you were in need of funds, Madam,” he spoke coldly, fully cognizant that it wasn’t money she sought.
“You know what I want.” Her voice was low and husky. “And I know why you’re really here.”
Her fingers were inching down, and he had no will to stop her.
“You wish me for yourself.” Deftly, she opened the first two buttons of his trousers. A few more moments and her hand would release him. “Hugo has kissed me, nothing more.”
At the mention of Hugo’s name, Mallon’s anger surged again. How easy it was for her! Had she no feeling!
He grabbed her wrist, twisting back her arm, and Geneviève gave a strangled cry. She struggled only for a moment before making herself limp. Then, she raised her face to him with eyes half closed, offering him the fullness of her lips.
“Go to blazes!” he hissed, pushing her away.
