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He was angry now—she could feel it radiating through his taut body. She was angry too, but it was getting her nowhere. Maybe he’d listen to reason. Maybe it was the time for honesty, much as she despised sinking to that level.
“My lord,” she said in a quiet, firm voice. “I see I’m going to have to explain the situation. I’m not really a cook.”
He raised one of his black, satanic eyebrows but he didn’t frighten her. At least, not much. “Oh, really?” he drawled with great sarcasm. “You astonish me.”
Sophie took a deep breath. “I’m actually a . . . lady. Well, at least I was, until circumstances changed.” She couldn’t tell him her real name—he knew better than anyone the scandal involving the Russells, the scandal that had brought him this house and possibly
his fortune.
“Ah, yes,” he said thoughtfully. “I expected something like that. It was either going to be that or the shy schoolgirl, which has never appealed to me. Innocence, even feigned innocence, is annoying.”
“Unfortunately for you, I am innocent. A virgin, in fact. So you really don’t want to waste your time with someone like me.”
Some of his anger had faded, and now he was looking faintly amused. “So I should toss you back in the stream like a fish that’s too small and go looking for something larger?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not an elegant way to put it, but yes. I’m sure there are any number of women around who’d fall at your feet.”
“Oh, would they?”
“Of . . . of course,” she stammered. He was no longer hurting her, but she knew the minute she tried to escape, his grip would tighten once more. “You’re very handsome, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” he said blandly.
She could kick him, she thought wistfully, holding still. “And you’re wealthy, and you have a title. Most women would do anything to be the recipient of your . . .”—she struggled for the word—“. . . attentions, dishonorable as they are.”
“But not you?”
“Not me. I have other plans.” Most of her momentary panic had fled, leaving her more uneasy than frightened. This wasn’t a man who’d force himself on her.
“Such as?”
She ground her teeth at his polite question. “If you let me go I’ll answer your question.”
He didn’t bat an eye. “You’ll answer the question anyway.”
“You’re a brute and a bully.”
He shrugged. “As I said, you picked the game. What are your plans?”
It wouldn’t give anything away to tell him. “I plan to marry well,” she said. “I’m very pretty, you know, and I usually have men flocking around me.”
“I imagine you do. Such a problem for people like us—all the people falling at our feet. It makes walking difficult.”
She wasn’t amused. “I . . . I intend to marry someone extremely wealthy and well bred. Probably with a title.”
The damned man rolled his eyes at that, and her anger pushed the last of her fear away. “Of course you do, love. Why not one of Queen Victoria’s sons while you’re at it? I’m afraid the Prince of Wales is taken but there are younger ones, and Bertie may come down with a fatal disease. You could end up queen of England.”
“This isn’t funny,” she said stiffly.
“Well, you’re just going to have to put up with my amusement if I have to put up with your games. So how do you want me to play it? Am I to be a tender suitor who sweeps you off your feet? A bandit who kidnaps you? Perhaps a pirate?”
“Why don’t you be yourself,” she said sweetly. “An impossible ass.”
He laughed. “As you wish, my innocent one,” and before she realized what he was doing he’d scooped her up in his arms and started toward the house.
For a moment she was too shocked to react, and then she started to struggle until his soft, implacable voice stopped her. “If you keep kicking and hitting me I’ll feel totally justified in returning the favor.”
She kept very still. “You would, wouldn’t you? Hit a helpless female.”
