Page 71 of Unbound Duchess

He flinched, his entire body hardening to marble.

“What?” he said in disbelief.

“Teach me a lesson by giving me to another man?”

Rage sparked as some of that green in his eye returned.

“Over my dead body,” he growled, his tone feral.

Oh. She liked that response. She liked it very much. The idea that he would not let any other man—not just Benedict—touch her.

“Do you want to slap me? Hear my cries of pain instead of pleasure?” she asked.

A battle was forming in Laurence’s mind at the question. She should have been scared then. Instead, she was only intrigued.

“Well?” she pressed.

Laurence’s gaze dipped to her throat.

“What if I want both?” he rasped, his other hand drawing up to her throat, his fingers lacing around it like a collar.

He squeezed, slightly. A moan poured from Ellen’s parted lips as she felt the threatening pressure. Her lashes fluttered as his thumb smoothed just under her chin and forced her head to tip back just a little further.

Laurence dipped his head and inhaled deeply as he slowly traced the tip of his nose up the column of her throat.

“What if I want to find that wicked place between pleasure and pain and keep you there until you forget anything else exists?” he growled softly.

Need coursed through Ellen’s veins at his words. Her entire body suddenly felt slaked with liquid heat as she imagined what sort of things he’d do to accomplish such tasks.

“And what if I want that too?” she whispered, feeling heat roiling from Laurence’s taut muscles in waves.

A vicious snarl ripped from Laurence’s throat, and suddenly his hold- and his warmth was gone. Ellen’s lashes flew up as she wrapped a hand around her throat, and saw that Laurence had somehow made it to the open doorway in the single second it took to open her eyes. He looked like a man tortured as he heaved in deep breaths.

“You have no idea what you are asking, Ellen,” he struggled to say. “And I strongly suggest you do not talk of such things again.”

She stared at him with widened eyes, her body on fire and her mind a mess.

“This marriage is to protect you. Nothing else,” he stated, his deep voice sharp with command. “We will not be taking any more liberties. From now on, you have one task, one task alone. Help me put Benedict in prison where he belongs.”

She frowned at him, feeling embarrassed and hurt and still on the edge of arousal.

“And after we accomplish that?” she asked. “What becomes of me then?”

Something dark and tortured passed through Laurence’s eyes before he looked out into the hall and scowled. Without a word, he gripped the doorframe and pushed himself forward. It was as if part of him was willing him to stay, but still he left.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Are we meant to put on a play?” Laurence asked, frowning down at the tattered, faded, gray newsy cap Solomon had pushed into his hands.

“You can think of it like that,” Solomon said, drawing a battered jacket over a well-worn, white layman’s shirt. “We certainly need to put on an act. Blue has invited me to his master’s house to partake of some well-refined brandy we could not dare find at a place like Scraper’s Tavern. We need to appear as two common folks excited to try the finer things in life that our new friend Blue has so generously offered.”

Laurence wrinkled his nose, but drew the cap on over his head. It smelled of sweat, and another man’s musk, and he immediately hated it. Still, Solomon’s plan could work, needed to work. Not only that, but he needed a distraction. His last interaction with Ellen had consumed him with lustful desire and he needed it to stop so he could focus. It was the only way he would go along. He had to play his part the best he could, so they could finally put an end to the entire charade that was now their lives.

Both men finished getting dressed in the empty alley beside Scraper’s Tavern, and when Solomon finished, he spread his arms wide.

“What do you think, boss?” Solomon asked, his accent suddenly cockney.

Laurence raised a brow.