Page 46 of A Lady's Lesson in Scandal
Millie would have laughed if not for the horror of the situation. ‘The only wild thing here is your imagination.’ She wished she could reach for her blades. But then he was leaning closer, his wet lips pursed.
Enough of this!
Franklin’s hand was wrapped around Millie’s waist. She grasped his thumb and twisted hard. His mouth – only moments ago intent on crashing into hers – twisted painfully and a high-pitched cry emitted from his lips.
Millie increased the pressure on his thumb, forcing him to release his grip on her. Letting go of his hand, she shoved hard against his chest, and he stumbled back a step, his eyes wide with shock.
‘Let me be very clear with you, Franklin. I am not interested in any dalliances. I would rather kiss one of the slugs in the garden than ever subject myself to your affections.’
Franklin recovered faster than she would have thought. A sick excitement flashed in his grey eyes. ‘You’ve got more fight in you than last time. I like that, Millie.’
‘It’s Millicent,’ she bit out between clenched teeth. ‘And I don’t think you’ll like my brand of fight, Franklin. I’m not theyoung, naïve girl you once knew.’ Millie ruthlessly shoved down her fear and focused on the rage. Shehatedthat he had used her pet name as if he had a right.
‘You don’t need to pretend,Millie.’ The bastard put undue emphasis on her name. ‘Not around me. Some things never change. Your obsession with me from childhood was always flattering. I know I hurt you when I rejected your wanton advances, but I find myself drawn to you now.’
Millie did laugh, then. ‘My obsession with you died rather quickly when you took my virtue and abandoned me like a whore. Trust me, Franklin, Major General Drake may have scars, but I find him to be the most desirable man I’ve ever seen. He surpasses you in all ways. Touch me again, and you will regret your decision.’
Hmm. Maybe pretending a friendship with Franklin wasn’t going to work. She was a terrible liar, after all.
Franklin took a step forward.
Millie lifted her hand and slapped him hard, his head whipping to the side.
Franklin lifted a shaking hand to his cheek. His gaze narrowed. ‘Filthy little bitch.’
It was the second time she’d been called a bitch in one day. She didn’t love it. But she did enjoy seeing Franklin’s eyes fill with fear. He was a bully at the heart of things. And bullies didn’t want a fair fight.
‘I won’t speak of this to Major General Drake. But if it happens again, he will be notified. How are your skills at duelling, Franklin? As I recall, you were always a terrible shot and even more dismal with swords. Beaufort is a skilled marksman, and his sword work is masterful. Trust me.’
Fear transitioned to anger, his mouth pressing tightly together. ‘This conversation isn’t over, Millicent. I had you once. I mean to have you again.’
Millie swallowed the bile rising in her throat. ‘You never had me, Franklin. I chose you. Unwisely, as it were. And I will never choose you again.’ She turned and quickly walked into the drawing room, her neck prickling. She was sure his gaze burned into her as she walked away.
Wonderful! Franklin will certainly trust me with his secrets now.
Millie sought out Drake. His gaze fell upon her, then looked behind her to see Franklin entering the room. Two parentheses formed on either side of his mouth. She couldn’t read his mind, but it didn’t take all her sleuthing skills to determine he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion.
Men. Are. The. Worst. Even decent ones.
Millie took a deep breath and prepared herself for what was sure to be a dismal afternoon.
Drake paced in his room. It had been a dismal afternoon. His dinner jacket was stiff at the elbows, his white cravat tied too damned tight. The evening promised to be even worse than his day thus far. There was still an hour before dinner, but already he was dreading the meal with so much unwanted company. His limp was worse than usual. He’d not taken time to massage his leg with the linseed oil prescribed by his doctor. It eased some of the tension and helped to keep the scars from seizing, but he had no patience for it tonight.
Patricia had been so thrilled to welcome Godric and Nora into Drake’s goddamned house. And when Franklin St George peeled himself away from staring at Millicent, he had spent the remainder of the afternoon at Patricia’s side like a little lapdog. The stupid woman had practically purred with satisfaction. Shehad used the guest list to ensure Drake and Millicent would both be miserable. And she had succeeded. He was livid.
But his anger had only increased as he watched Millicent avoiding Franklin. Something had occurred between them. Something ugly, knowing Franklin. Every time the bastard’s eyes had wandered below Millicent’s chin, Drake’s hands clenched into fists, and a haze of red descended. Being tortured at the hands of hardened soldiers in the suffocating heat of Afghanistan had been a lark compared to an afternoon watching Franklin looking at Drake’s woman as though she were a treat he’d like to consume.
But she isn’t my woman.
Millicent yearned for independence. Freedom. She didn’t want a husband, even if her physical desire for him was obvious. Even if she didn’t want such liberation, he was determined to have a distant marriage where his control wouldn’t be sabotaged by his lust.
Millicent would never truly belong to him. The only reason she’d trapped Drake into this wedding fiasco was because she thought he’d beg off.
But I can’t. One taste of her on that damned veranda made me an addict.
And now, after suffering through the longest afternoon in his memory, he could hear her in her bedroom, only one sodding door away, moving about. Every sinew in his body tightened at the thought. He wanted her. More fiercely than he’d wanted anything. It was madness. This need hovering between pleasure and pain. How was a man supposed to think logically when all Drake imagined was the taste of her skin against his mouth?
The bloody fucking flutter in his chest was back.
