Cora could relate. The closer she walked to the hallway, the harder her body quivered. Thank goodness Jacob wasn’t ready yet. He would complain endlessly if she caused him to leave late. She waited for him, pacing.
“There you are.” Jacob came down the stairs, elegant in his dark evening suit. “Come here and let’s be quick.”
She walked over to him and stretched out her arm.
He seized it and latched a golden bracelet around her wrist. “Don’t try anything stupid. You’ll return it to me when we are back home.” He closed the latch with a snap. “Your reticule?”
She handed it to him, pressing her lips together.
He rummaged through it, not caring about ruining the delicate silk. “Good.”
Yes, she didn’t carry any coins or anything valuable.
“Show me.” He stepped closer, hounding her.
A flare of panic caught her. “Is it really necessary?” She hated the quiver in her voice.
“Don’t question me,” he gritted out. “Not after the manner with which you behaved in front of Stark.”
She glanced at the corridor. “Can we at least go to the parlour?”
“No.”
“But—”
“I said to be quick.” He forced her to step back.
She went to the quietest corner the hallway had to offer although a footman or her maid might come at any second. With trembling hands, she grabbed fistfuls of her skirts and lifted them, revealing her stockings and garters. Her breath came out in quick pants as he patted her down, shoving his rough hands under her petticoats. He touched her inner thighs and slid his fingers under the garters.
“How can I hide anything there?” she snapped and regretted it.
His grip on her thighs became painful, tearing a whimper out of her.
“Shut up,” he said. “Or I’ll squeeze your throat.”
The thought of his rough hands around her neck was strong enough she nearly believed he was already choking her. She swallowed hard, tasting the bitterness of her fear.
He searched her drawers with harshness through the slit between her legs. “Shall I make you wet for me? If I rub you long enough, you’ll moan for me.”
“I might cast up my accounts on your silk suit.” She grimaced as he gave her one last harsh stroke.
“I might use my belt on your son’s back,” he spat.
If he followed through on his threat, she’d stab him.
He ran his hands up her body. “Turn around.”
Her blood boiling, she did as told.
He unbuttoned her dress with speed and efficiency before tugging the bodice down. She winced and closed her eyes as he checked her back and corset, shoving aside the chemise without worrying about ripping it, and kneaded her breasts with too much energy.
“You’re hurting me.” Where her voice lacked confidence, it made up for it with anger.
“So you learn to respect me.” He squeezed her breasts hard until she cried out in pain.
There had been a time when she’d loved the feeling of his hands on her body, but that time was long gone.
“Cover yourself,” he ordered, releasing her.
