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“If it were just about me and my wants, I’d never look your way, you arrogant cur.”
“And if it were just about me and my wants, I’d never exchange a word with you, you ill-mannered old shrew.”
Isabel gasped.
She wanted to kick him in the shins and leave him to suffer. But they were still outdoors. And although the hour was not fashionable, there were still people about. So she took off her glove and threw it in his face.
The marquess blinked as if startled and caught the glove against his cheek. “Is this an invitation to a duel? That would be vastly preferable to marrying you.”
“Take it as an expression of my disgust. Even the thought of being married to you, seeing your face every morning across the breakfast table, repulses me beyond your imagination.”
“If we did marry, you wouldn’t have to worry about that. I’d lock you up in my northernmost estate and make certain you’d eat nothingbutmaggots.”
“Then you’d have to live without heirs. Not that I look forward to sharing a marital bed with you. Maggots would be a better—Oh!”
The marquess seized her by the waist and crushed her body to his.
Isabel’s breath left her body as her hands instantly went to hold onto his wide shoulders. Her waist burned where he held her even through the layers of his gloves and her clothing. Her entire body trembled in either anticipation or trepidation.
She craned her neck to look at him and swallowed. He was so very tall. Her head barely reached his shoulders.
He held her tightly in his arms, his eyes roaming her face as he lowered his head. “I’d rather forfeit the marquessate than spend any time in bed with you,” he growled, his face only inches away from hers.
“And I’d rather give birth to the spawn of the devil than to your heir. Please unhand me. I am about to cast up my accounts from the feel of your touch on my person.”
“A wanton like yourself?” he scoffed. “You are begging for my touch.”
“As if!” she spat. “I’d rather touch a—”
She was rudely interrupted as Vane dipped his head and captured her mouth in a hard kiss.
His lips were unyielding and his kiss urgent, demanding. Isabel opened her lips and welcomed his heated embrace.
Her body went limp as he continued devouring her mouth, his hands roaming her body. It was so pleasant to be held so tightly, kissed so ardently after years of being so alone.
Lonely.
She felt his heat all along her length, and her body instantly arched against his.
Why was he kissing her?Weren’t we just arguing? Is this kiss meant as a punishment?
Isabel put her arms between their bodies and thumped at his chest. She twisted her head away, and the marquess kissed her ear, her neck.
Isabel whimpered, confused and aroused. She wasn’t supposed to feel that way. She was repulsed by the marquess, wasn’t she?
He still held her tightly, and she could feel the evidence of his desire pressed against her thigh. The realization made her heat from the inside while her body itched, and she wished to crawl out of her skin.
All too soon, Vane let go of her and stepped away. Isabel reeled and caught herself against the tree.
“See?” the marquess croaked. “Wanton.”
Isabel felt her neck and cheeks heat in anger and embarrassment. He’d just used her body’s unconscious responses against her. He’d made her enjoy his kisses, only to prove a point! And the most dreadful part of it was that she did indeed enjoy his kisses.
She was so upset and confused she wanted to cry. More than that, she wanted to give him a piece of her mind. But her mind proved blank, so she picked up her skirts and turned on her heel.
“We marry on Sunday,” he said to her back. “I’ll get us a special license by then.”
Isabel did not answer. She walked away, not looking back, and resolved to forget the entire encounter.
