Page 22 of As the Devil Dares

Beast! Anger spun through her, and she drew her hands into fists. “I don’t need you for any—”

“You need my help more than you realize.”

His help? She was certain that the kind of help he’d offer would only cause problems. She scoffed. “What could you possibly do for me?”

His gaze dropped to her shoulder, where his fingers plucked at the bow decorating her capped sleeve. He drawled in a husky voice, “Save you from yourself.”

“I’m not in need of a savior.” She swatted his hand away with a warning scowl. “Nor do I seek absolution from society or the blessings of its good graces.”

“Good.” Condescending amusement sounded in his voice. “Because you’re never going to get any.”

That was painfully blunt. So much so that her lips parted as she stared at him, astonished by his brutal honesty.

He took advantage of her momentary shock to reach up again to her shoulder. “Not with your family’s wealth.” He teased the satin ribbon around his fingers, then trailed his hand over to the neckline of her bodice. “And certainly not with your beauty.”

She swallowed, hard, not knowing what to say to that. Or to the heat of his fingertips as they traced over the lace edging of her bodice and seared the skin near her collarbone. Her traitorous heart pounded so furiously that he could most likely feel it, and she prayed he recognized it for what it was—anger. Nothing else. Certainly not attraction to this damnable devil.

His sapphire blue eyes followed the tracing of his fingertip back and forth over her neckline. She cursed herself for not wearing an old-fashioned fichu. Next time, she’d come properly prepared for battle, with a spencer buttoned up to her chin and a sword hidden in her skirts.

“Society’s watching every move you make,” he cautioned, “all those gossips, just waiting to pounce. You’re only one misstep away from crossing a line from which you’ll never be able to step back.”

Despite the harshness of that warning, his deep voice came smooth and soft. Like a velvet cape wrapping itself warmly around her. She trembled. Heavens. If this much masculinity radiated from him when he was attempting to persuade her into behaving decorously, what must he be like when he’d set his mind on seduction?

“All it would take is a new rumor or two.” His fingers stroked lightly up her neckline to her shoulder, and a faint ache tightened low in her belly. “About you gambling alone in some seedy hell in Covent Garden or getting foxed in a private box at Vauxhall—after all, everyone knows how you raced that phaeton down St James’s Street. It wouldn’t take much for those bitter old hens and jealous misses to have everyone believing you’d done something even worse.”

His forefinger slipped teasingly beneath the sleeve cap of her dress to caress bare skin. She inhaled sharply, both at the silken slide of his fingertip and at his brazen audacity.

His eyes flickered darkly, which only grew the hot blush at her cheeks. “Or something even more sordid.” His fingertip trailed down over her bare arm as he murmured, “Something wanton.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” she whispered. Her breath now came in harsh little pants. Every inch of her throbbed with a mix of frustration and anger. And something else just as intense, just as aching…something triggered by his nearness that set her trembling.

“I’ve seen them ruin ladies for offenses far more slight than what they’ll believe you’re attempting to do to them this season,” he warned, “as an upstart cit invading their ranks, with the audacity to think she can steal away one of their gentlemen.” He leaned in farther until the heat of his breath shivered across her lips. “Those women will shred you, and the men will ruin your reputation without taking a single touch.” His gaze fell to her mouth, the heat of his stare burning her lips. “Although I’m certain the alternative might be damnably fun with a hellcat like you, if a man could survive your claws.”

Her breath hitched with a jerking gasp. That was no mere innuendo, but pure masculine assertion. One that coiled through her, stirring up an inexplicable feminine longing inside her.

“But you won’t let that happen,” she countered in a voice far huskier than she intended, “or your own prospects will be ruined. After all, if you can’t even protect me from—what was it again? Gambling, drinking, or—” She jutted up her chin, too much of a lady to repeat his words. “Something intimate…How would you ever be able to convince my father that you’re capable of protecting all of Winslow Shipping?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll do exactly that,” he promised. “And you’ll do what my mother asks of you this season and convey yourself as a proper lady, or losing your allowance will be the least of the punishments from your father.” In that moment’s pause, something haunted and remorseful flickered deep in the sapphire depths of his eyes. Something so pained that her breath caught with surprise. “Because you’ll also lose all his pride in you, and he’ll be disappointed to have you as a daughter.”

Her heart stuttered at the way he said that and at the darkness she glimpsed inside him.

But whatever fleeting sympathy she felt for him wasn’t enough to tamp down her own rising anger. Or the sharp wariness that squeezed her heart at the possibility that this arrogant interloper might be right.

“I’ll do whatever your mother asks of me,” she promised. And with that, laid down a clear line of demarcation between what he wanted from her and what she planned on giving. They’d declared war, and battle lines had to be drawn. “After all, it isn’t her fault that her son is such a beast.”

“That’s right.” Shifting closer to her, so close that she could feel the heat of him along her front, he took her chin and lifted her face toward him. “I am a beast.” His thumb strummed over her bottom lip and made her tremble. “Don’t ever forget that.”

She forced a laugh, suddenly and inexplicably nervous. Instead of the haughty insult she’d intended, it emerged as a throaty rasp. “I’m not afraid of you.”

His eyes gleamed wolfishly and fixed on her lips, staring at her hungrily as if he wanted to devour her. He drawled huskily, “You should be.”

Then he lowered his head and captured her mouth beneath his.

The kiss came so unexpectedly that she didn’t have time to gasp before he stole her breath away and stunned her senseless. For a long while, she could do nothing in her surprise but stand there and absorb the strange and delicious feel of his mouth on hers.

Then all her senses flooded back with the force of a tidal wave. Pushing her hands against his chest, she tried to shove him away, but the man was a mountain, solid and immovable. He didn’t budge as he continued to feast on her lips, kissing her more thoroughly than she’d ever experienced in her life.

And oh, what a kiss! The strength of his mouth contrasted with the softness of his warm lips as they caressed and nibbled against hers, almost cajoling her to give over to him, yet mercilessly relentless in his pursuit to make her senses flee yet again. And drat him, he was succeeding. His nearness intoxicated her until she stopped pushing and instead snaked her arms around his neck to hold him close. He smelled delicious, a masculine mix of leather, soap, and tobacco that made her head spin, and on his lips she tasted the sweet yet earthy flavors of honey and tea. A slow heat seeped into her from the tips of her fingers and toes, until it met in the middle and turned into a throbbing ache.