Page 31 of A Touch So Wicked

Elissa nodded jerkily and hurried off. Cradling the pitcher against her lest she spill it, she darted toward the tower. Her heart was thundering in her ears as she negotiated the narrow, staircase. This has to work, she thought, mindful of the sloshing liquid in the pitcher. She needed every precious drop if she were to escape Damian’s attentions.

Elissa reached the top landing and paused before Damian’s closed door. She dragged in a fortifying breath, lifted her hand to knock but hastily withdrew it when the door opened abruptly. She gazed up into Damian’s face and took a step backwards. Candlelight illuminated his hard expression and a frisson of fear raced down her spine.

“What kept you?” he said, stepping back to allow her to enter. “I was about to come after you.”

She scooted past him and carefully set the pitcher of wine on his desk. “I thought you might be thirsty and went to the larder for a flagon of wine.”

Damian regarded her with suspicion. “I suppose you’ve laced it liberally with poison.”

Had he guessed? “Why would I do anything that stupid while you hold my mother and sister hostage?”

“Hmmm,” Damian said, eyeing the wine with distrust. “Am I to assume, then, that you want this as badly as I do?”

Elissa bristled. “Assume anything you like.”

Damian poured wine into two goblets and handed one to Elissa. “You’ll join me, of course.”

“Of course,” Elissa said, taking the first sip…a tiny one. She tasted nothing unusual, and relaxed.

Damian watched her a long moment, then drank deeply from his own goblet. He rolled the wine on his tongue and let it slide down his throat.

“Excellent. French, I believe. Your father had good taste.” His next swallow emptied the glass and he set it down on the desk. Then he reached for her. Elissa set her glass down and backed away. “I canna do this, my lord. You are forcing me to do something I donna want.”

“I can make you want it,” Damian said with a conviction that made her legs tremble.

The hard, set look on his face made Elissa all too aware of her vulnerability.

“I won’t hurt you, Elissa. I promise you’ll find pleasure in my arms.”

“I donna want pleasure from you.”

“You don’t hate me, I can sense it.”

Elissa tossed her head. “I canna like an Englishman. ’Tis against everything I hold dear.”

“Give me your hand, Elissa.”

When she refused, Damian grasped her arm and pulled her toward the bed. “I’ll be gentle. There’s no hurry, we have all night.”

Elissa became aware of two things; the snakelike hiss of coals in the hearth, and the distant rumble of thunder. And something else: the naked hunger in Damian’s eyes.

“Shall I undress you, Elissa?”

Her mind raced furiously. “Nay! I…my wine! I dinna drink it.”

“Drink up,” he said as he snatched up her glass and handed it to her.

“Wait! I donna like to drink alone. Drink with me.”

Damian gave her a hard stare, then refilled his goblet. “If it pleases you, but if you’re hoping I’ll get drunk, forget it. I rarely drink to excess, especially on momentous occasions like this.”

He placed her glass in her hands and she took another tiny sip, pleased to note that he had emptied his goblet in one long gulp. Fearing to drink more than what she’d already imbibed, Elissa deliberately let the glass slip from her hands. It shattered, just as she’d intended, leaving a blood-red stain on the carpet.

Damian slanted Elissa an impatient look. Did he suspect?

“Shall I pour you another? It will only prolong the inevitable, you know.”

“I’ve had enough, thank you,” Elissa murmured. She watched him closely, waiting for the drugged wine to take effect. She prayed he had gotten enough of the drug, for she doubted she could get more wine down him.