Page 5 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
She heard a deep groan, felt a vibration against her fingers and realized she was clutching the lapels of his coat. Clinging to Drake Darling was all that was keeping her from melting into a puddle of pleasure at his feet. This was merely a kiss, an ancient dance of mouths, yet it was proving to be her undoing.
He drew back, triumph glittering in his eyes. “Five more minutes and I could have you divested of your clothing and on your ba—”
Crack!
Her gloved palm made contact with his cheek, startling him, startling herself as well, but she would not allow him to make her feel as though she were a whore. “You are not only disgusting but you overvalue your talents. I didn’t enjoy your touch, your kiss, not in the least.”
“Your moans implied otherwise.”
She lifted her hand to deliver another blow, but he snagged her wrist, his long, thick fingers wrapping firmly around her slender bones. He could snap them so easily. She was breathing heavily, while he seemed to have no trouble at all finding air.
“One slap is all you get, my lady. I would have ceased my attentions with the slightest of protest from you. You can’t now be angry because you wanted what I was offering.”
“I want nothing at all to do with you. Now unhandme.”
His fingers slowly unfurled. Snatching her hand free, she fisted it at her side. “You are no better than the muck I wipe off my shoes.”
“Methinks the lady protests overmuch.”
“May you rot in hell.” She sidestepped around him, greatly relieved that he didn’t attempt to stop her, slightly disappointed as well. Whatever was wrong with her? It was an odd thing to realize that with him she’d felt ... safe. Completely, absolutely safe.
Which was ludicrous. He didn’t like her. She didn’t like him. He was simply striving to teach her a lesson. She could only hope that she’d taught him one: she wasn’t a lady to be trifled with.
Chapter 2
“What were you doing talking with Drake Darling?” Somerdale asked as the carriage rolled through the quiet streets.
The ball would no doubt continue on until dawn, but Ophelia had been more than ready to leave after her encounter with Darling in the alcove. It appeared their little tryst had gone unnoticed, thank God. She’d lost all her enthusiasm for dancing, and had asked her brother to escort her home. He had gladly accommodated her request, no doubt because he was equally anxious to be off to his club.
Looking across the way at him, Ophelia couldn’t read his expression yet his voice hinted at his disapproval. “I was thirsty. I asked him to fetch me something to drink.”
“You would have been better served giving your attentions to a lord. Father placed an ungodly sum in a trust for you so that you would possess a dowry to entice the most influential lords. You need to set your sights on someone like Avendale. He’s a duke for God’s sake.”
“With no plans to take a wife. He was only in attendance tonight because of his friendship with Lovingdon. And you need not worry. I have no interest in Darling as a suitor.”
“See that you don’t. I like the fellow well enough, but Father would roll over in his grave. He entrusted me with ensuring that you married well. I intend to see to that duty.”
“Would you not be better served by seeing to your duty of marrying an heiress?”
It had been two years since their father’s death and she knew the coffers were not as flush as they’d once been.
Somerdale glanced out the window. “I’d hoped for Grace. Now I must begin my search anew. It is a bothersome task.”
Somerdale marrying Grace would have been a disaster. He needed someone not quite so rebellious.
“You don’t think I find the search for a husband equally bothersome?”
“Bothersome it might be but it is a condition of your trust. Pity you can’t gain access to it before you marry. We could have some jolly fun with the money.” He turned his attention back to her. “But your husband will take it over once you’re wed, and that will be the end of it.”
“The funds become mine if I don’t marry by my thirtieth birthday.” Which was her plan. Much like Avendale, she had no wish to tie the marital knot. Oh, she made noises about it, even had both Grace and Minerva believing she wanted to marry for love, but the truth was that she wanted to be a spinster, never accountable to a man. No man would ever love her enough to forgive her for what she’d once done, and it was a secret she could not forever keep from a husband.
“If you want gowns for next Season you’d best marry during this one,” Somerdale said, cutting into her thoughts.
Her heart gave a little start. “Are things truly that dire?”
He shrugged. “Investments haven’t turned out as I’d hoped. I considered taking a loan from your trust to see me through until my situation improves, had my solicitor look over the details, but your funds are locked up tighter than a drum. Only your marrying a commoner or your death would release them into my hands.”
A shiver went through her. She was disconcerted to know he’d been searching for a way into her trust fund. That money was hers, her dowry, the key to her future, her freedom. Her father wanted her to have it. Somerdale would simply have to find a way to make do. “I most certainly am not going to marry a commoner. I doubt I’ll marry anyone at all. And I certainly don’t intend to die anytime soon.”
