Chapter Three

Kendrick flattened her palms against Roane’s chest, knowing she must free herself if she intended to leave this room in the same condition she entered. The deranged man had already caused a scene in the ballroom when he dragged her through the crowd like a dog on a leash. He didn’t care a whit about his reputation, and no doubt meant to ruin hers.

If she had a lick of sense, she would knee him in the privates and flee from him before he had a chance to recover. So why did she hesitate, and how had he managed to pull her into a heady web of desire so quickly? The thought of those familiar lips devouring hers made her forget about the people outside the room. Heaven help her, made her forget she was to marry Pitt. Not once had she felt like this when her fiancé held her. Pitt Fleming never caused her breasts to swell and ache as they did now. His caress never elicited a feeling of lust-filled urgency. God save her.

She hadn’t been able to dispel Roane from her mind after he left for the war, not even when she received word he had died. His handsome face haunted her day and night—the ebony hair, the high, carved cheekbones and full, generous mouth. She had wanted him to take her then, and she still did, regardless of the consequences. The man excited her beyond measure, extracted a flood of wetness from her private channel and caused her nub to throb with unspent passion.

He made her think shameless thoughts, desire things no decent woman would covet. Things that were best left alone. After word came of his death, she would pleasure herself with her fingers; imagine Roane inside her, thrusting in and out of her hot, slick tunnel until she cried out his name mindlessly. And begged the ghost of his person for more. Harder. Faster. Deeper.

His gaze raked her face before coming to rest on her eyes. "I’m young, I’ll find another. Is that what you said?"

"Do we...I mean, do you have a choice in the matter?" She realized her mistake immediately. She hadn’t meant it as a challenge but she knew this man well, should have known he’d rise to her question if only to prove her wrong.

His grip tightened about her waist until she found it difficult to breathe, difficult to think. He seethed hot rage like the fiery embers in the hearth. And why did his anger send jolts of pleasure pulsing through her?

"We, that is, I have a choice," he spat, the mordant tone of his voice not lost on her. "I always have a choice, Kendrick. Do you want to know why? I don’t give a coon’s ass what those dandies outside this room think. In fact, it pleases me to think my actions would shock them. Lord knows they’re in dire need of excitement, if only to prove they’re still alive."

"You are one in the same with them for all your smugness Roane."

"Was, my pet, but never again. I’m weary of their complacent smiles and banal conversation, would like nothing better than to set their tongues wagging."

"Unlike you, I have no desire to tarnish my reputation." If only he would release her, if only she could command her body to stop shaking beneath his bold affront. He hadn’t used his pet name for her—beauty—but had called her his pet.

Low-voiced, his tone harsh, he repeated the question he had asked when they entered the room. "How long before you fell into Pitt’s bed, Kendrick? Tell me, and I may choose to salvage your reputation."

Of all things, the cad smiled, seemed to enjoy seeing her squirm like a worm on a hook. From deep in her belly, anger erupted and bubbled up her chest. "I don’t owe you an explanation. You were dead to me! I could hardly get through the day. Why are you surprised to hear I turned to another?" Through the thin fabric of her dress, she felt his manhood, hot and hard, pressing into her belly. "Pitt was there for me at a crucial time in my life."

"Answer me, goddamn it, how long before you went to his bed!"

"Never," she screamed, beating her fists against his chest. "I’ll never tell you because it doesn’t matter now. You’re supposed to be dead!"

He released her so suddenly she stumbled backwards, stopping only when the red velvet settee hit the back of her thighs.

"Very well," the son of Satan said, have it your way. Know this, before you leave this room, I will have my answer."

She swallowed her fear and met his eyes. "What do you think you’re doing?"

"I don’t think I’m doing anything, my pet. I know what I’m doing."

* * *

Damn her. Damn Kendrick Moreland and all her lies, her beauty, and for every night he dreamed of coming home to fuck her into oblivion. The only thing that kept him going during the war, kept him sane was the memory of her exquisite face. He should have died a thousand times like all the rest, but for some callous reason he had lived. In the darkest of times, he questioned why he had been spared. Now he knew, and what perverse irony. He lived through a bloodbath to witness her marry another? His deep, sardonic laugh bounced off the walls of the library.

Kendrick crossed her arms over her chest and withdrew a step or two. "You’re mad, and, you’re... frightening me."

How dare she stand there all pale and horrified? Her childlike vulnerability increased his desire to protect her from everything evil. And fuck her. His balls swelled and his cock pushed mercilessly against his breeches. He had never wanted anything more in his life than he wanted her. Be damned with civility, propriety and her reputation. Not a soul would dare to speak out against his woman, and she would be his woman by the time they left this room.

Her eyes widened as she stared into his, a mingling of fear and expectancy. She wanted him too; he felt it with every beat of his tumultuous heart.

He stalked toward her, lowered his head and captured her mouth. Devouring her lips was like laying claim to heaven. Velvety smooth, they moved against his. He didn’t have to force her lips apart to gain what he sought. The moment he ran his tongue over her bottom lip, she allowed him access.

Breaking from the kiss long minutes later, he held her back from him. "Take off your dress. Do it now before I rip the damn garment from your body."

"You’re not serious!"

"Oh no? I shall count to three. If you intend to salvage the dress, I suggest you remove it. Now!"

Her fingers trembled as she slipped the dress from her shoulders and then turned around with her back to him. His mind screamed. Soon she will be mine; heart, soul, and body. Excruciating pain shot through his groin when her foot made contact. Contemplating the feel of his rod inside her, he had let his guard down, trusted her.

She bolted toward the door, fumbling with the gown near her shoulders. Despite the pain, Roane lunged through the air and took her down by an ankle. He couldn’t allow her to walk from this room.

Their bodies tumbled about the carpet, her kicking and clawing, him doing his best to keep her flailing arms from scratching his eyes out. Near the settee again, he managed to haul her to her feet, turn her around, and hold her against him. Her breaths came in pants and a quiet sob escaped her.

Long moments passed and neither spoke. Finally, on a whisper her words reached him. "I can’t reach the buttons."

He unbuttoned her dress slowly, taking his time to savor her creamy shoulders and the delicate bones of her spine. He couldn’t wait to possess her, yet the goddess of his dreams infuriated him. The stubborn woman wasn’t the type to answer to a man’s whims or demands. He should have anticipated she would fight him at first, even though she wanted him as he wanted her. He would wager his grandmother’s best cameo that underneath the obdurate façade a fiery siren existed.

When he finished unbuttoning her dress, he seized her roughly and dragged her back against him. Holding her by the shoulders he whispered in her ear, "Finish taking it off and step out of it."

Her body shivered and he exalted in it. Removing a hand from one shoulder, he ran it through her hair, loosening the pins. Long, honey-colored curls tumbled free and cascaded down her back in a veil of gossamer silk. She stepped out of the dress and then shuffled it aside with her feet.

"The corset and pantalets. Remove them, and any other foolish undergarments. I want you naked in my arms."

"Please, Roane," she whimpered. "Anyone could enter―"

"Remove them or I’ll rip them off you."

With a sob, she rolled the pantalets down her slender hips and set about removing the laced corset. Moments later, the garments joined her cast-aside dress.

"You should always be naked in my arms, beauty." His fingers found her nipple. With a tweak, he whispered, "Naked, willing and burning for me."

Her knees buckled beneath her and her head lolled on his chest. "I can’t...can’t continue―"

His arm tightened about her and he jerked her upright. "Tell me, Kendrick, does Fleming drive you wild with desire?"

She shook her head.

Roane cupped a swollen breast and rolled her hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "Does he fondle you; tug at your nipple like this until your cunt throbs with need? Or does he suckle you to get you wet?"

A low moan escaped her lips on the heels of his words, "Never."

Roane’s hand slid from her breast to her abdomen, and lower still to the soft mound of curls between her thighs. He found her clitoris and rubbed until her head thrashed against his chest. "Did Pitt ever take you to his bed? Have you ever spread your legs for him so he could slip inside your hot, wet folds?"

She panted through her answer with short, rapid bursts. "Please stop, I’m about-about to be married to another. I-I gave my word."

"Answer me, Kendrick. Tell me the truth."

"No, oh, God, please stop, Roane."

An animal-like whimper escaped her lips when he slipped a finger inside her. Still holding her around the waist with one arm, he probed and thrust deep, eliciting a series of groans from her throat. "You little hypocrite, you don’t want me to stop, and you and I both know it. Admit you want me to shove my cock deep inside you."

"No, no, I don’t," she said on a pained moan. "I’m going to-to marry Pitt."

"Over my dead body," Roane ground out between clenched teeth.

Her scent overwhelmed him, a mingling of lemon and her arousal. Her mass of hair against his lips felt like the finest of silks. He had to stop or soon he would be spending like a pubescent schoolboy. It infuriated him she held such power over him. If he didn’t cease this game of cat and mouse, it would be over before he wrenched the truth from her. The thought of Pitt Fleming even touching her perfect skin, running his hands over her naked flesh crippled him with jealousy.

He withdrew his finger from her channel and spun her around, so fast her head jerked back. With his hands on her shoulders, he pushed her to her knees and pulled his engorged cock from his trousers. His balls felt heavier than lead and his staff looked angry, perhaps irate it had been denied such exquisite pleasure thus far.

His breaths coming in pants, he placed his swollen member to her lips. "Did your dandy Pitt ever ask you to suck his cock?"

A small cry left her lips and she dropped back, but not before Roane grabbed a hank of her hair and forced her mouth to his shaft again. "Never would he ask me to... to suck on his..."

"But you want to suck my cock, don’t you, Kendrick? You want to take it into your mouth and taste me, suck me dry, don’t you?"

She shook her head vigorously.

"Don’t lie to me. I’ll know if you do, and I swear I’ll take a switch to your provocative backside, force you to admit the truth."

A tear ran down her cheek, and for a brief moment, pity tapped his heart. An emotion he couldn’t afford right now. He would yank the truth from her one way or the other. With her full, pink lips against the tip of his member, the blood roared in his ears and his heart thudded against the wall of his chest. "Take me into your mouth, Kendrick. Show me what a novice you are."