Page 5 of The Villain
She stiffened, offended at what he suggested. “I am a lady, not a whore.”
He glanced up to meet her gaze once more and smiled, a slow, lazy curving of lips and flash of teeth. Was it her imagination, or were his canines a bit longer than any she’d ever seen?
Dear God, she was going mad.
“You will be one when I’m done with you, Daphne,” he stated, running her braid through his fingers and releasing it once he’d reached its end. “Give yourself to me for thirty days, and not only will I reveal to you—in my own time—the answers you seek, but I will restore what I took from your family by giving you the funds to set things right.”
Her neck heated as he perused her body from head to toe with an undoubtedly lascivious glance. Despite the heavy, damp wool coat concealing her form, she remained aware of how indecent her attire was; breeches clinging to her hips and legs, and a man’s shirt with nothing underneath. It left her feeling disarmed, when she usually had her corset and petticoats to don beneath her gowns like a form of armor.
She opened her mouth to rebuke him, but one heavy, blunt finger fell against her lips, silencing her.
“Before you take me to task for being indecent, allow me to enlighten you,” he said, his eyes appearing darker when he stood so close—like polished brass. “I do not care for your maidenly sensibilities. I know you are a virgin like most unwed chits, and I do not care. I will take your maidenhead with relish, with no concern to what state you go to your future husband in. I will debase you and own you for every single one of the thirty days and nights I require. You will submit to my will and obey, or there will be consequences. If you are strong enough to endure, in the end, you shall have your reward—the truth you seek, plus the grand sum of thirty thousand pounds.”
A stinging retort died on her lips. His promises of debasement and the loss of her virtue should have frightened her. They should have sent her running through that door and back out into the stormy night. However, her mind chose to latch on to the only words he could have said to make her consider going through with it.
If you are strong enough to endure …
Her spine straightened, and her nostrils flared as a rebelliousness her mother had been trying to squelch her entire life rose to the surface. If Lady Fairchild were here, she might warn her against impulsiveness, a trait that had gotten her into trouble on more than one occasion.A cautious woman is a safe one,she had said before Daphne’s first Season, hoping to keep her from putting herself in a situation that might lead to public ruination.
Her father would scoff and insist that her mother might as well give her warning to a wall made of stone, as rising to a dare seemed to be part of Daphne’s very nature. Bertram would simply laugh and remind them how many times he himself had gotten a rise out of her by insisting she could not do something as well as him.
She could not stand for anyone to tell her she could not do something, and she’d had enough being coddled.
As much as she loathed this man, she could not deny the truth of his earlier words comparing her to a dove. White, pristine, unsullied. Protected, indulged, sheltered.
Look away, Daphne, her mother would say to keep her from witnessing anything that might upset her.
It is no concern of a gently bred lady,her father would say whenever she pried into matters of import.
Someday, your husband will teach you about what goes on in the marriage bed, every married lady she knew would tell her, as if revealing the coveted secrets of the bedchamber would cause her to swoon in a dead faint.
She was tired of being sheltered, of being told that matters concerning her well-being were ‘none of her affair.’ Of allowing her parents to rule her life, passively accepting their every decision. In the past five years, they’d sunk deeper and deeper into destitution, and neither of them had been able to set matters right.
But, she could.
And all it would cost was her maidenhead and a short time allowing him access to her body.
No, she realized as she met his challenging gaze. If this man had his way, it would cost her soul. He had destroyed her family and way of life … what guarantee did she have that he wouldn’t destroy her, too?
“Would I have your promise not to … to ill-treat me?” she stammered, lowering her eyes.
Embarrassment filled her as she was reminded just how out of her depth she swam. How was she to know what to do in such situations? Nevertheless, this was her body they were negotiating over—she could not afford to put it on the line without certain assurances.
He chuckled, the sound making her belly grow warm. That heat suffused out through her, leaving behind an odd sensation she did not understand.
“How naive you are, little dove,” he teased, reaching out to grasp her face with one large hand. His hold did not hurt, but neither would it allow her to move or pull away. His thumb caressed her lower lip, causing her mouth to fall open. “It will hurt, and not just the first time. There will be times when I willmakeit hurt. But, Daphne … you will like it. Not only can I promise you will like it—by the end, you’ll be begging me for it.”
She wanted to scoff and tell him it wasn’t bloody likely. She wanted to slap his arrogant face and tell him to sod off; she wasn’t some Haymarket strumpet, and her body was not for sale. Yet, the promise veiled as a threat did not frighten her the way he’d likely thought it would.
If you are strong enough to endure …
There was nothing she hated more than being baited … except, perhaps being taunted by the person doing the baiting.
Lifting her chin, she met his gaze, refusing to flinch away as he traced the inside of her lower lip with his thumb. “I want the bank draft written out in advance. I want to see you sign it, and I want to be assured that it will be placed in my hand in thirty days.”
He inclined his head, but gave no indication of whether her acquiescence surprised him. “Am I to believe you are accepting my offer?”
“First I see the bank draft,” she said. “Then, I shall accept.”
