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6
Icecascadedthroughhis veins as the realization she was another of the ton hit him full force in the chest. He’d suspected, but confirmation set anger flooding, clearing the ice and making way for red hot fury as he pulled out of her. “Who are you?”
She sat up, sliding backward on the bed as she pulled the sheet to her breasts. All signs of the confident woman taking charge of her sexuality vanished, leaving behind the frightened kitten who’d lured him in. “I told you, no one.”
“A bit late for modesty.” As he stood, the terror in her eyes increased tenfold, and she scrambled off the bed and away from him, sheet clutched tight as she cowered behind it. “You belong to a coven of women I’ve no right touching. A fact your expression tells me you very well knew.”
“Nothing has changed.” She creeped toward her discarded clothes, moonlight peeking through the curtains and dancing across her skin as she moved. “I wanted one night, you gave me a night, and nothing else need ever come of it.”
He took a menacing step toward her, and she matched it with a hasty step back. Temptation to shake her until she confessed, to rip the mask from her face and destroy whatever protection it gave, taunted him. But no matter what he did, it was far too late to go back. There was no taking back what they’d done.
He’d ruined her, and now he’d pay the price for indiscretion.
“Tell me your name!” It wasn’t often he yelled at women, he could count the times on one hand with fingers to spare, but she’d pushed him beyond reason. For a second, she faltered, the sheet clutched so tightly her knuckles turned white, but her footing was quickly regained, and she tilted her chin up as she straightened her shoulders.
“My name is of no consequence. We haven’t been introduced, and we won’t be introduced.” She bent to snatch her dress from the floor, not bothering with her corset before tugging the white satin over her head and abandoning the sheet. “This night stays here, Lord Claireborne. You will never see me again.”
Another step toward her, and then another, stalking her across the room, matching every one of her backward steps until she was against the wall. Breaths coming in short puffs, her entire body rising and falling with the effort. Cheeks dusted with the glow of a satisfied woman, tormenting him with the blatant reminder of the innocence he’d stolen.
Bracing his hands on either side of her head, he captured her lips in a kiss that was far more about his anger than her pleasure. He demanded entrance, plunging and sweeping through, subduing her poor attempts to seize control. The act quickly backfired, her meager attempts to beat him at his own game drawing him deeper. Perhaps she was winning.
Because he was lost.
In her taste, her boldness and inexperience. In tumbling blonde curls, and luscious scarlet lips. In the body once more pressed so firmly against his, her breasts pushing into him, and in his cock coming to life once again.
Tearing his lips from hers, he stared down hard at her wide eyes and swollen lips. A rare and beautiful bloom, and still impossible to resist.
Every decision he’d made that night led to where they stood. Attending that party hadn’t been in his plans until Tristan cornered him at Whites. On his way out he’d caught sight of her, intent on melting into the wall. After discovering her innocence, he proceeded to defile her for his own pleasure in the guise of giving her sexual freedom.
Now they faced the consequences of their choices, and she was scurrying like the timid little kitten she was. He couldn’t allow her to vanish, there’d been far too many fatal mistakes that evening, and he refused to make another.
Whether they liked it or not, they were bound.
“What will stop me from following you home and telling your guardian exactly what you’ve done?”
A forced laugh crossed her lips, and she ducked beneath his arm, nearly knocking over one of Tristan’s amphoras in her haste to get away. “You’ve no more desire to wed than I do, and I promise you if I am forced it won’t be to a man like you.”
“A man like me?” He raised a brow as he stalked her, inching closer as she stopped to retrieve the last of her costume. A steadying hand landed against the vase, stilling its precarious wobble. Shattering porcelain would have the entire house on them in an instant. “You certainly had no complaints about my company a few moments ago.”
“You were in your element, doing exactly what it is you love to do.” She offered a sly smile, the sex kitten making her appearance as she slipped her feet back into the Egyptian sandals. “And that was exactly what I needed. But dawn will break soon, and I need to return to the life I’ve been given. Unlike you, I’m not free to pursue my own pleasure by light of day.”
Her fall from grace was entirely his doing, and he’d be damned if her foolish and naive confidence prevented him from doing what honor demanded. Reaching for the silk ties of her mask, permission be damned, he braced himself for the impact of revealing her identity.
“Touch it, and I’ll tell Tristan you’ve unmasked me against my will. One more step, and I’ll scream loud enough no one will hesitate to open the door.” She tilted her chin, though he could swear there was the slightest tremble in it. “I may not have much power, but I have power enough.”
The prospect of leading to her ruin, more than he already had, froze him in place. Defeated, he dropped his hand, breaths leaving him in sharp gusts as he stared her down.
If he pressed and she made a scene, they’d have Tristan and half the house in that room before he could blink. Then she’d be well and truly ruined, and nothing he could do would save her. Allowing her temporary freedom was the only way to protect her. “I’ll thoroughly enjoy bringing you to heel.”
A half smile tilted her lips as she unlocked the door. “Finding an heiress in a sea of them is quite the task. I do hope you grow to enjoy balls and the crush that comes with them. You’ll need some satisfaction to temper the disappointment.”
As the door closed behind her, he took several cleansing breaths. As safe as his little heiress felt behind her mask, she’d revealed far more than she realized. Luscious blonde curls, and enticingly full lips weren’t reserved for the vixen, as much as he’d like to say they were.
But the interesting combination of green and gold in her eyes, and her delicate perfume, the unusual violet scent, would set her apart from most of the other debutantes. As would her familiarity with their host. Tristan had only three sisters, and he needn’t look any further than their intimate circle.
His little flower was as good as found.
