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There’d been enough beautiful women at the party tonight for him to take his pick if it was sex he wanted. He didn’t have to have her. She’d be a virgin, too—he’d bet his dukedom on it—and he wasn’t into virgins. They were complicated, and the last thing he needed was more complications.
Yet that didn’t put a stop to the hunger that gripped him, and his temper, already on a knife-edge, worsened.
Meirda, what was she doing here? Hadn’t she finished her work? There were plenty of chairs around. Why wasn’t she sitting on one of them? But, most importantly, why wasn’t she safely in bed and out of his reach? And why did he always find her poring over a book?
He prowled up behind her, where she knelt, but she didn’t look around, once again absorbed in whatever she was reading.
‘You can take that upstairs if you want,’ he said, unable to keep the growl out of his voice. ‘You don’t have to sit on the floor.’
She gave a little start, then sprang to her feet, turning around quickly. Her violet-blue eyes were very wide, and one hand automatically went to her pocket—as if her knife was still there and not where he’d seen it last, on her bedside table.
And then, as she took in his presence, her posture relaxed as quickly as it had tensed. ‘Oh...’ she breathed. ‘It’s you.’
He should have been pleased by how quickly she’d calmed, since it indicated more progress towards her trusting him. But tonight he wasn’t pleased. Tonight it rubbed against his vile temper like salt in a wound. She was the daughter of his enemy and he was going to use her to get his revenge on thathijo de puta. She should be afraid of him. He was dangerous—and most especially when he was angry.
Hadn’t Anna always told him that he frightened her? She’d been right to be scared. He was capable of such destruction when he let his emotions get the better of him. This little kitten should be cowering, not relaxing as if she was safe.
‘Yes, it is,’ he agreed, his temper burning with a sullen heat. ‘What are you doing in the library at this time of night?’ It came out as an accusation, which wasn’t helpful, but he didn’t bother to adjust his tone. He wasn’t in the mood for adjusting himself for anyone tonight. ‘You should go to bed.’
‘I was working late.’ Her forehead creased, her violet-blue gaze studying him. ‘Are you all right?’
A dart of something sharp he couldn’t identify shot through him. Was his temper that noticeable? Maybe it was. He hadn’t exactly been hiding it after all. Still, he hadn’t been asked that question in a very long time. Years, possibly. Not by his staff, not his few close friends, not his lovers. And the fact that this homeless girl should be the first one to have even a fleeting concern for his wellbeing annoyed him all the more.
He smiled without humour. ‘Of course. Why would you imagine I’m anything other than all right?’
‘Because you’re...’ She made a gesture at him.
‘Because I’m what?’ He took a leisurely step towards her. ‘Have you been watching me,gatita?’
Her cheeks flooded with telltale colour. ‘No, I haven’t.’
A lie. Shehadbeen watching him. How interesting.
You should order her upstairs. Away from you. Nothing good comes from your temper—you know this already.
Oh, he knew. He knew all too well. But he was tired of having to do what he always did, which was to shove that temper away. Beat it down so no one would ever know it was there. Tired of having to pretend he didn’t feel it, of having to restrain himself all the time.
Dios, she was the one who’d brought all this to the surface again. This was her fault if it was anyone’s.
So what are you going to do? Punish her?
He ignored the thought, taking another step towards her. ‘I think you have. I think you’ve been watching me. And why is that?’ He let his voice drop to a low purr. ‘Do you see something you like?’
Something flickered through her eyes, though he couldn’t tell what it was. It wasn’t fear, though, and he didn’t understand. She was normally wary, and yet she wasn’t wary now, which was strange. Had he done his job already? Did she trust him?
Sillygatita. Perhaps he should show her what she had to be afraid about.
He closed the distance between them, crowding her very purposefully back against the bookshelves, and this time obvious alarm rippled across her pretty face. He was standing close enough to feel the warmth of her body and inhale the faint, sweet scent of roses. Close enough to see the pulse beating fast beneath the pale skin at the base of her throat.
Fool. Giving in to your temper will undo all the progress you’ve made, and you swore you wouldn’t make any more mistakes this time.
Cold realisation swept through him—of what he was doing and how badly he’d allowed his control to slip. She was supposed to trust him, supposed to feel safe with him—that was the whole point. And he wasn’t supposed to make any more mistakes.
‘You should leave,’ he forced out, trying to handle the fury that coursed through him. ‘I’m not fit company right now.’
She gave him another of those wary looks, but didn’t move. ‘Why not?’
‘Too much wine, too many women, and not enough song.’ He tried to hold on to his usual lazy, casual demeanour, baring his teeth in what he hoped was a smile, but probably wasn’t. ‘Leave, Leonie. I’m not in the mood to be kind.’
