He strode toward the side of the room. Jerking open the door, he was surprised to find steps going in both directions on the outside of the house. He’d never seen anything like this. He hurried down to a lower landing, passing what smelled like the kitchen. There the stairway connected to a terrace on one side and continued lower. A maid directed him to a terraced garden below, where he found even more steps, then a path leading to four small buildings set close together. When he’d gone almost to the end of the stairs, he caught Eugénie’s gaze as she glanced up. He locked eyes with her for a moment before she turned and ran.
Drat the woman!He didn’t care if he had to chase her to Main Street and everyone in St. Thomas knew he was after her. There was no way he’d let her get away now. Whether she wanted to be or not, she was his.
Eugénie caught a glimpse of Lord Wivenly moving rapidly down the stairs to the work yard. His stern face showed no emotion, but anger emanated from every pore, spurred every step. She couldn’t speak to him now, not when he was so furious. What would she say, and how would she react? Not to mention he’d lied to her about who he was, and Maman could never know what he’d done. She must have time to gather her thoughts before confronting him and making sure he did not betray her.
She glanced at the wall. If she was fast, she might make the gate before he reached her. Picking up her skirts, Eugénie darted toward safety. Once away from him, she could decide what should be done. Perhaps he’d leave for England or another island, or even America.
As she reached out her hand to lift the latch, fingers as strong as steel wrapped around her arm and the next thing she knew, he was dragging her toward the empty wash building.
His voice was a low growl. “We need to talk.”
She dug the heels of her half-boots into the dirt, raised her chin, and said in her haughtiest manner, “I have nothing to say to you,my lord.”
“Well, I have plenty to say to you,MissVillaret de Joyeuse.”
He picked her up and carried her into the laundry, then set her down and grasped her arm again.The beast.She was sure to have bruises.
“Such as,” he continued, “why didn’t you tell me who you were that night at the warehouse?”
Just like an arrogant man to try to place the blame on her. “Incroyable. I am not the one who lied about my name or who I was.”
Lord Wivenly clenched his teeth so hard, his jaw was sure to crack. “I told you I was from the earl. You should have trusted me.”
“Trust you?” She would scratch his eyes out. “Why should I, when you chased me around and kissed me like I was aputain?”
He raked his hand through his hair. “I thought you were a widow.”
“We have plenty of widows here, my lord.” Eugénie curled her lip in her best sneer. He would not touch her again. She would never allow it. “Most of them are too busy grieving for their husbands to play games with you.” She jerked her arm free. “But by all means, see how many of them want you.” Eugénie whirled on her heel to leave when he caught her by the waist, pulling her against him. “Cochon!Pig!”
“I know what acochonis.” A hint of humor entered his voice as she struggled to free herself. “But thank you for the translation.”
“Let. Me. Go.” Where were all the servants? Surely someone could hear them and come to her rescue.
He lowered his tone to a caress. “I’ve not finished with you yet.”
Her heart crashed against her chest as the tip of his tongue lightly touched her ear, then one hand cupped her breast. She stifled her gasp. How dare he treat her like this? Cicely was right. He didn’t care who he harmed. Eugénie brought her foot down on the arch of his boot, turned, and slammed her knee into his groin.
Lord Wivenly doubled over, gasping in pain. “What the devil did you do that for?”
“You treat me like a whore. I treat you like acanaille.” She straightened her shoulders and started to walk away, then stopped. “You may let yourself out through the back gate. Only gentlemen are allowed in the house.”
Lord Wivenly’s roar reached her a moment before he did. She should have hit him harder.
“You little termagant.”
He really was stronger than he looked. Pain contorted his features as he captured her, forcing her back against a wall. His hands held hers over her head, and he trapped her legs with his body. Wivenly would not touch her again. She would not allow it! If only she could move her legs or had her dagger, she would hurt him so badly he could not get up. “What are you going to do, ravish me in my own house?”
“Don’t think the idea hasn’t occurred to me.” He leaned back a bit, and his gaze raked her body as if he could see through her clothing. Almost as if he was inspecting his goods. “Though evenIwould be a bit pushed to do that at the moment.”
Eugénie fought to pull her hands free. Oooh, she’d punch him if she got the chance. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll scream.”
“It won’t do you a bit of good.” His voice was as soft as a caress.
A shiver ran through her. He brought his head down and claimed her mouth. Eugénie pressed her lips together.Non!She would not respond. She did not want him.
Yet as he fluttered his lips over hers, they opened, wanting him. Her traitorous body responded to his touch as a thirsty man craves water. His tongue danced with hers as his hands possessively roamed her body, lighting sparks where his fingers touched. She was clay being molded by him.
“There now,” he whispered, as if trying to gentle some frightened animal, “that’s better.”
