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He chewed his food evenly as he contemplated her. She found herself mesmerized by the movement of his jaw. Good God. The man was arousing even in the most ordinary of movements. Recalling her perturbation that he was the one disclosing, or engaging, in these monstrous activities yet she was the one left feeling overbearing, she asked him, “Are you a dominant?”
After finishing his swig of wine, he met her gaze. “Yes.”
Despite her elevated concern, a dark, visceral heat pooled in her loins. She found herself simultaneously drawn and repelled. Had it been any man other than Lord Rockwell, she would have fled at what he had described. She imagined him giving her permission to use the chamber pot. How was it possible that could be provocative?
And yet it was.
“Only my interest lies purely in venery,” he added. “I have no desire to control how submissives conduct their lives otherwise.”
She gave him a dubious look.
“It may be hard for you to fathom now, Miss Herwood, but the submissives desire the treatment they receive. In the end, it is all for their pleasure.”
She was quick to pounce. “Is that what these dominants tell themselves to defend their actions?”
“Did I not please you before?”
The heat swelled between her thighs. She reached for her glass of wine, though it was quite possible the alcohol would inflame her more. “It does not please me that you wish to dictate whom I may consort with or how much wine I may consume.”
“At present, no,” he agreed. “But you will think differently in time.”
She was taken aback by the confidence in his assertion. “There appears to be a paradox. I am to be punished for not following your rules, yet I may object to your rules at any moment?”
“You are free to leave Chateau Follet at any time. I will not hold you hostage. Nor will I compel you to endure that which you truly believe you cannot. Are my rules so heinous that you wish to overturn them now, or would you be willing delay your verdict until you have further experience of them and extend me your trust?”
How was she to respond when he phrased it thus?
“Very well,” she acquiesced.
Too distracted by the tension swirling in her lower body, she could not recall the other questions she had wished to ask. She shifted in her seat. Would she be able to survive three nights at Chateau Follet? Though a dominant, he had indicated he would not control her every action save for the rules he had specified, but then why tell her all that he had? Was she too critical? Or could she, too, find such domination as he had described liberating and...pleasurable?
When she looked back at him, she found he had stopped eating and was staring at her.
Unsure how to respond, she informed him, “I have no maidservant with me.”
“As per the instructions you received, an abigail will be provided for you at the Chateau.”
Of course she had remembered this fact, but she had hoped to steer him away from his disconcerting gaze of her.
“How am I to be assured the servants will be discreet?” she inquired.
“You frequent a gaming hall and worry of discretion?”
She could not suppress a scowl.
“Are you done eating?” he asked.
She considered pouring herself another glass of wine to both take advantage of her time before his rules took effect at the Chateau and thumb her nose a bit at him, but she did not indulge the childish impulse.
“I am, thank you,” she answered. “It was a lovely repast.”
He rose from the table, and she assumed they would be on their way to the Chateau, as foreign a place to her as India, only she never doubted her desire to visit the latter.
But instead of opening the door, he locked it. When he turned around, the molten look in his eyes made her heartbeat quicken in a matter of seconds. Every nerve in her body leaped to attention. She watched with acute anticipation as he sauntered back to the table. He wanted her. That was plain. The effect of that knowledge served as the headiest aphrodisiac.
With a broad brush of his arm, he swept the contents of the table to the floor. Plates, bowls and utensils clattered below. Wine spilled from the bottle. One of the glasses shattered. She stared with mouth agape and looked quickly to the door, expecting the innkeeper at any moment.
“The door is locked,” he said.
