Her resolve grew stronger still. "Not this woman," she said firmly. No one gets forced, Lina had promised her. All she had to do was say no and he'd release her. "We'll go back and find you someone more amenable. As for me, the answer is no. "
If she'd hoped he'd look abashed she was disappointed. "It's a hit too late for that, my precious. The moment you stepped through the Portal of Venus you signified your willingness to take on the first man who claimed you. Just be thankful I wrested you from Reggie. He's not particularly nice in his notions, and he would have hurt you. "
A faint smile curved his elegant mouth. "Only briefly, and I'll endeavor to make it as painless as possible. Losing your virginity always hurts a bit, or so I'm told, but I expect I can soon make you forget all about it. "
Oh, God. "What in the world makes you think I'm a virgin?" she protested in her falsely deep voice. "This is hardly the place for innocence. "
"Which is why you're so delectable," he said. "And I can tell by the way you walk, the way you flinch when I touch you, when I tell you what we're going to do together. Only a virgin would be so plainly terrified. As to why you're here, I have absolutely no idea. I've been trying to figure it out for some time
"Momentary insanity," she said. "I'm recovered now. " She pulled at her hand, knowing it was useless, fighting anyway.
"Sorry" he said, not sounding the slightest bit regretful. "We've already come too far. ”
She could push back her cowl, shock him into releasing her. But she still held off, hoping there was some way to escape this terrible mess she'd gotten herself into without betraying her identity. And the dismal truth of it was that she wasn't so much afraid of the social aftermath of him knowing she'd been there. She was afraid to see that light in his eyes flicker and fade with disappointment once he saw who he really had in his net.
Author: Anne Stuart
She reached up her free hand to tug the cowl lower over her face. "As for this Portal of Venus you keep going on about, it was a mistake. My. . . my dear friend who brought me here was going to point it out but she got. . . distracted. How was I to know what the Portal of Venus was?"
"I regret Lady Whitmore didn't have a chance to show you," he drawled, shocking her. He knew she'd come with Lina. Well, there was nothing remarkable about that—they'd been standing together during that ridiculous ceremony with its terrible Latin. "But that's hardly an excuse. All you had to do was look.
The Portal of Venus," he said patiently, "is the round entrance to the first garden, surrounded by boxwood and maidenhair ferns. It resembles. . . "
"Oh, how revolting!" Charlotte cried, with no need for him to continue.
“On the contrary, I tend to find it quite. . . hmm. . . stimulating. But I believe I did mention that I reserve my attentions for women, did I not?"
There was no other way out, she thought desperately. Where the hell was Lina when she needed her? Off enjoying the attentions of who knew how many, her idiot of a cousin forgotten.
"Yes, you did," she said calmly, dropping all effort to disguise her voice. He wouldn't recognize it anyway, not from one short conversation in a noisy ballroom. "But Viscount Rohan is known for his excellent taste. His mistresses are some of the most beautiful women in the world. "
"Now, how would you know of my mistresses?" he murmured, amused.
She ignored the question. "You would hardly lower your standards to. . . to. . . bed an unwilling antidote, a plain old maid. "
He surveyed her figure in silence for a moment, and she had the odd notion that he could not only see beneath the enveloping hood, but also see through to her flaws and imperfections. 'The word is fuck," he said deliberately. "And you wouldn't be unwilling. " There was a calm certainty in his voice, as if he'd been privy to her awful dreams. "You greatly underestimate your charms. " His hand tightened, and he pulled her toward him, slowly, inexorably. She tried to put her hands between them, but it was already too late to fight him, and he simply clamped her against him, against his strong, hard body. She could feel him, as she had in her dreams, and she wanted to cry. So close, so tantalizingly close, and all she had to do was pull back her cowl and he'd release her, shocked, horrified, perhaps disgusted at the thought of the mistake he'd almost made.
But she couldn't get her hands free—they were trapped between their bodies. He'd managed to restrain her with just one arm, and his hand reached up toward her hidden face.
"You don't want to do this," she said desperately.
"Of course I do. I've wanted to for a long time. Miss Spenser. " And he pushed the hood from her head, caught her stubborn chin in one strong hand and kissed her.
Lina heard the sound first. A grating noise^ like some strange bird, she thought. A jackdaw or perhaps a crow. She opened her eyes and realized she'd fallen asleep beside Monty's chaise. She was sitting on the floor, fully dressed, her head cradled in her arms, and Monty slept on, oblivious to the most irritating bird that was. . .
No, that wasn't a bird. That was someone clearing his throat, and she lifted her head and turned, not bothering to rise, assuming it was simply Dodson with some tea and toast.
It wasn't. It was a man she'd never seen before, soberly dressed in black with white linen. No lace, no jewels, no ornament of any kind, and he was looking down on her with a shadowed expression that doubtless signaled deep disapproval. She felt herself flush. She, who prided herself on being shameless.
She started to rise, and he held out one hand to assist her. She'd planned to ignore it, but her legs were cramped and gave way beneath her, forcing her to reach to him for support. His was a strong hand, and not soft like those of the aristocrats who touched her.
"Has Montague converted to Catholicism without telling me or are you some part of his depraved activities?"
She was still wearing the wimple, though by now it was on crooked. She snatched it from her head, shaking her long black hair loose around her shoulders, and surveyed him for a moment. "I'm a part of his depraved activities," she said in a cool voice meant to deflate pretension. After all, he was only a vicar, not someone who had any right to judge her.
The man was unmoved. He wasn't a young man-perhaps close to forty if she were to guess by the deeply etched lines on his face. A handsome face, with deep brown eyes, a straight nose, high cheekbones and a stubborn mouth that on a less disapproving man might almost be called sensuous.
Not on this man.