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Her voice broke into his musings. She sounded imperious and irritated, as though he were an annoying insect. Marcus smiled. So that was going to be the way of it. She was going to fight. So much more interesting than running.
“Oh yes, you know me. Intimately.”
“You’re mistaken.”
He straightened up, and she immediately tensed, becoming even more wary. Did she think he was going to grab hold of her and ravish her here? He smiled. Nice thought, but he prided himself on being more subtle than that.
“Trust me, I am very discreet.”
“I don’t even know you!”
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. In a moment she would be calling for assistance to have him thrown out. He wouldn’t put it past her. She seemed determined to carry through with her fantasy that they were strangers. He supposed in her position she didn’t have much of a choice.
“Why did you do it?” he asked her curiously. “Why risk everything? Not that I am complaining, mind. I’m glad you chose me.”
“You are mad, obviously, and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I won’t stop. I want you, Portia, and I’m going to have you again. And again.”
“I think you are mistaking me for someone else,” she whispered, but he could see she was beginning to lose her fire, as she realized her strategy wasn’t working.
“We enjoy each other’s company, Portia. We should keep on seeing each other. We can be as discreet as you like. I am the master of discretion.”
“Leave me alone.”
“No, I won’t leave you alone. I can’t. I’m going to persuade you to change your mind.”
She shook her head. “You can’t.”
“I can.”
He reached out his hand and brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.
She froze.
He was looking into her eyes and reading what was there, behind the mask she wore. Did he see a flicker of feeling? A hint of longing?
“I’m not giving up,” he murmured. Her breath was warm and sweetly scented. He let his mouth hover over hers, promising the hot, deep kisses they had enjoyed at Aphrodite’s Club. He had never wanted anything so much as he wanted to cover her lips with his and wrap his arms around her. He could take her against the wall. Just for a moment he allowed himself to imagine her thighs wrapped around him, his body deep inside hers, while the Swedish Nightingale sang.
She was thinking it, too. He was sure of it. Her blue eyes had darkened and her lashes fluttered. She arched toward him, just enough so that her breasts, enclosed in lavender silk, brushed against his stiffened shirtfront.
“I want you,” he said.
Her fingers rested on his sleeve. Her wide skirts were pressed to his trouser legs, the many petticoats causing them to bell out behind her. Helpless invitation was in every line of her beautiful face and body.
Marcus smiled. If he wanted to, he could kiss her now. And he wanted to…but he also wanted to master her. Destroying her reputation would not endear him to her, or get him what he wanted.
He stepped back, and she opened her eyes wide. She looked endearingly confused, and cross.
“Good evening, Lady Ellerslie.”
He bowed, then turned and sauntered away, leaving her standing there. He didn’t look back. He wasn’t going to ravish her just yet. She must agree to any ravishment wholeheartedly. She must agree to his terms.
The rules and strictures of high society meant nothing to him. It wasn’t that he delighted in breaking them, just that he ignored them and went ahead and did what he wanted to anyway. He was a man who followed his desires, and couldn’t understand why others denied themselves.
Just as Portia was denying herself now, and had to be shown the error of her ways.
Portia was shaking so much she wondered if she was going to fall down. She rested her hand against the wall, steadying herself, forcing her whirling thoughts to stillness. One moment she had been in control, and then…she would have let him touch her, kiss her, and more. She, who’d thought herself rid of him, was as entangled in desire as ever.
