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Worst of all, she had had the audacity to speak to his own reservations where Miss Josephine was concerned.
“Miss Merrill, I leave you to contemplate your situation.”
Her eyes widened and pleaded with him.
He could not let her go—did not want to let her go—but could not trust himself to stay. His cock, hard as the post she was tied to, stretched agonizingly. He turned, avoiding her gaze for fear that he could too easily give in to those doe-like eyes, and left her to seek the reprieve of his own chambers and ponder wh
at the hell he was to do with her next.
Heloise yanked at her bindings with enough desperation to cause the rope to chafe against her wrists. She simply had to escape.
But escape from what? a sardonic voice inside her asked. From his exquisite touch? From facing the fact that she had, indeed, enjoyed what he had done to her—that her body had been aroused to wetness by it?
She shook her head vehemently at the voice. Who knew what other devious plans the earl had in store for her? The spanking had been relatively harmless—though her arse still smarted from it—but she only had to look at the frightful instruments hanging on the wall to know that a world of darker possibilities lay within Lord Cadwell. She eyed the riding crop. “The more you dread it, fear it, disdain it, the more you enjoy it.” Those had been his words. She contemplated the pain the riding crop could induce. Could she derive pleasure from such pain?
Warmth flared in her loins. Why did the mere thought titillate her? Her curiosity surprised her, but it was curiosity that killed the cat. Perhaps it was curiosity that had compelled her cousin to want to be here, but she would not fall victim to the same.
She strained once again at her bonds, her arms sore from their position, and attempted to undo the knot, breaking three of her fingernails in the process. There simply has to be a way out.
The door opened and the earl appeared, a touch disheveled but no less dapper. He had removed his coat and loosened his cravat. She stared at the sinews of his throat and felt a wave of warmth washing over her. She quelled it.
“Miss Merrill, I have decided—” he began.
“You will set me free or pay dearly for it,” she informed him hotly.
He paused, then raised his brows in amusement—a reaction that only fueled her anger.
“My uncle will see you brought before a magistrate,” she continued. “If you do not release me, then prepare to spend your time at Newgate.”
He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. His bemusement when he should have been daunted by her threats both infuriated and worried her.
“On what charges would I be sent to Newgate?” he asked.
Damn his insolence, Heloise fumed.
“On kidnapping!” she snapped. “And…and surely there are laws against this…”
“This what, Miss Merrill?”
“You know quite well to what I allude!”
She pulled at her bonds for emphasis, but he continued to wait for her elucidation. She let out a sigh of exasperation.
“Of forcing your attentions upon me!”
To her horror, he laughed. He pulled away from the wall. “Tell me, Miss Merrill, did you not come here of your own free will?”
She bristled. “Yes, but—”
“My coachman was not under orders to abduct anyone.”
“Yes, but—”
He took a step toward her. “Did you not lie willingly across my lap?”
Her flush of consternation began to pale.
“You—”
