“For a particular purpose. I don’t need to remind you who else was there.” Constance felt as if she were speaking through her teeth and strove to lighten her face and her tone. How dare Solomon do this to her? To the Tizsas? “Forgive us for bringing our silly disagreements toyourhouse. How is young Master Tizsa?”
Fortunately, the blatant change of subject to their young son Alexander worked. Although Constance’s anger did not subside, she was able to hide it beneath the social manners she had taught herself from an early age. But for the first time ever, she could not bring herself to speak to Solomon.
She felt betrayed by his dragging the Tizsas into the matter, as though he had put all her secret insecurities and vulnerabilities on display to strangers. Just to achieve his own ends, which, to her, were foolish in themselves. Worse, she had never been disappointed in him before, and now she was.God, she was. And so enraged she wanted to walk home.
By the time they reached their house, she wished she had stayed atthe establishment. She even thought about instructing the coachman to turn back to Mayfair. Instead, tight-lipped, she stepped down from the carriage without help, walked silently into the house, and climbed the stairs to her bedchamber.
There, she lit the lamp, threw her hat and cloak onto a chair, and strode back and forth across the room, too wrapped up in anger even to hear him enter the room. She only saw him when she spun around from the window and pulled up short.
He stood in the middle of the room, watching her, looking his usual calm, elegant, damnably handsome self. He had always been adept at hiding his feelings. But he had to know she was more furious with him than she had ever been. She wanted to lash out, tohurt.
Tearing her gaze free, she stalked past him to the door.
Or, at least, she tried to, but at the last moment, he caught her hand and pulled her back to face him.
“Don’t,” he said softly.
That soft, deep voice had always turned her insides to liquid.
“Don’t what?” she demanded. “Go where I like in my own home? Choose whom to have in my house? Dare to disagree with the people you line up to fight your battles for you? Unworthy, Solomon. Unforgivable.”
She tugged her hand sharply to free it, but he held on.
“No,” he said.
“Again, we differ.” Her voice shook. She wanted to cry. “Let me go.”
“Where? To storm around the house? To sleep in another room to stoke your anger?”
It was an effort not to give another futile wrench of her hand. Instead, she glared at him. “Dragan would say it is my right. Since you value his opinion so much—”
“Stop,” he said. “I asked a theoretical question because I wanted us to hear other opinions. If you think I’m wrong, then let us talk aboutit. Now.”
Her throat tightened. “I can’t talk now, Solomon. I am too furious, toobetrayed…”
Again she pulled away, and again he would not allow it. Instead, he took her in his arms, drawing her rigid body against him from breast to thigh.
“There is no betrayal,” he said. “Only love.”
She wouldn’t,wouldn’tbe softened by that word. She thrust her hand against his chest. “Oh, no. You were pushing your point, quite the ruthless businessman.”
“No.” He bent his head until his forehead leaned lightly on hers. His touch, his scent, seeped into her anger, threatening it, threateningher. “I don’t want you to look down on yourself, Constance.”
“I don’t. But other people do.”
“Some people look down on me because my blood is mixed. Some people will never change. But I believe we have enough friends to lead the life we choose.”
“Thatyouchoose,” she corrected him at once. But her traitorous body was remembering pleasure. Desire was relaxing the stiffness of her shoulders. Her trembling was no longer due to anger alone.
His lips brushed the corner of her eye, her cheek, her ear. “I would never push anything or anyone onto you. We can choose our guests, agree on them. Or agree to none. But we have to talk and listen to agree.”
He stroked her nape, and her breath caught. If she was to resist, she had to break free. Only, his mouth hovered over hers, and…
“You’re nottalking,” she said desperately.
“I am,” he whispered. “And so are you.”
His mouth took hers, and with it, emotion surged in a massive, chaotic tangle. He seduced her, blatantly, with kisses and increasingly intimate caresses, with every movement of his lean, ravishing body. With a gasp that was half sob, she seized him and fought back in afierce, sensual duel where losing was impossible and the eventual, blinding satisfaction overwhelming.
