AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Edmund shot daggers at the dandy with his eyes. “You stain her honour, you answer to me.” His brusqueness was evident.
“What if I say I want to court her?” The younger man arched his brows.
Carlton, a Viscount, to court Otilia? Why did he believe there was something fishy there?
And why did the idea cause his guts to burn like acid?
“Then you will have to make your intentions clear,” he spat at the dandy and turned to leave before the other man could turn words into action.
CHAPTER SIX
Otilia heard Edmund dismiss the footman for the night after the servant had taken their gloves, coat, cloak and hat.
The carriage ride happened in reproachful silence on his part, accompanied by a grim scowl on his rugged face. She did nothing to deserve this. She and Oliver had been talking in the terrace where dozens of people also stood. There had been no scandalous behaviour. Still, the blasted man sat with his taut frame across from her, attacking her with accusing eyes.
She thought to check if Coal got a warm place and began strutting to the kitchen.
“In my study. Now.” The harsh, syrupy command came from behind her.
“To the blazes with your decrees,” she threw hotly over her shoulder as she continued her way.
In the ballroom, she had to yield to his overbearing stance to avoid gossip. Here, she could not care less. In dancing slippers, she reached the door to the stairs down in a trice. A candle on the wall provided a faint light.
The door banged behind her back. The complete silence told of servants already retired. About to take the first step down, the door opened again to a very displeased Edmund. Otilia gyrated to him to see his strong hand closing it, and the man standing on the landing, with braced legs and crossed bunched arms. He had untied his cravat, and the white shirt gaped on the top of his rippling chest under the waistcoat.
“Do you not think you have to explain yourself?” The harshness had gone, leaving the syrup and nutmeg behind to tease her ears.
Her chin tilted up as her angry gaze clasped his. “No, I do not. Believe whatever the darn you want!” She turned to go downstairs.
“He says he wants to court you.” His words stopped her in her tracks. Oliver worked fast, by the looks of it.
“So what?” Her voice came cold. She already had the answer the Viscount had requested.
“Is it true?” The question came lower, deeper. It echoed in the cramped space and filled it with nothing licit.
She wondered why her friend put her in this situation when they agreed to talk before anything became public. “If he said it,” was the only uncompromising reply she found.
“Answer me!” He bit out, and she must turn to him again.
His jet orbs spat fire as they clashed with hers. “No.” Not answering him, the end. She would contact Oliver first.
Somehow, he had come closer because she registered the heat of him, and the scent of clove essence and man titillating her senses. That dizzying moment from the dance came back with a vengeance, and her head fogged.
“You have never heard of obedience, have you?” It came so softly and hoarse it bathed her in warm honey.
Despite her foggy mind, she tried to muster enough clarity to retort. “I attended the sodding ball. I danced your sodding waltz.” Her hands fisted by her side as her head bent back to meet his stare. “What else do you want from me?”
His hand shot out, fingers draping on her nape as he pulled her to him. “This.” And he slanted those sculpted lips on hers.
She had dreamed of kissing him again during waking moments and sleeping moments. Fantasy moments. Forget dreams. They could never reproduce this reality. And reality would kill her with longing.
Edmund’s mouth moved to open hers, and she had no forces to resist. Demanding, imperious, and unforgiving, his tongue invaded her like a powerful army would a weak country. She stood not a chance. A muffled sound made to escape her throat with the onslaught of sensations his mouth engulfed on her.
One arm laced her and he turned to press her spine against the wall. Good thing he did, or she would have collapsed at his feet. Gloveless fingers merged through his glorious, sleek, hair. She craved the feel of it in her reveries, like medicine to an en
dless ailment.
Their tongues met in that same waltz from earlier. The kiss went from angry to sizzling in a fraction of a second. She arched her body to glue it to him, and he responded by pressing her harder against the wall. The hand on her nape ambled to the curve between her neck and her bare shoulder, callused and warm, setting a trail of goose bumps and fire in its wake.
