“I am sorry, Eugie.”
Her head was nestled on his chest, above his madly thumping heart. He was warm and reassuring, his massive frame curved around hers despite their state of undress. She realized he was still wearing his breeches.
The confusion on his face as he had entered her returned, as did the telltale manner in which he had stiffened. The disbelieving tone in his voice when he had uttered the most damning words of all.You are a virgin.
As if he had expected her to be a well-practiced courtesan.
“You believed the rumors,” she said.
She knew it was true, but part of her needed to hear his confirmation. The words from his lips. The scent of him and their lovemaking was rich in the air, somehow a comfort and a reproach at the same time.
The silence was damning.
“Eugie—”
“No,” she cut him off, lifting her head from the warmth of his chest because she knew she must. She had been foolish with him. More foolish than she had been with the baron. More foolish than she had ever been.
The regret on his countenance hit her like a blow.
“I am sorry,” he said again.
But she did not want his apologies.
She scrambled from the bed, acutely aware of her nudity, searching for her night rail. It had been tossed to the floor in a heap. Somehow, it was the sight of that white linen discarded upon the carpet, more than the blood she had shed, which made her realize she had just lost her maidenhead to a man she scarcely knew.
To a man who had believed the worst of her.
How stupid she was. She snatched it up and threw it over her head, dashing away more proof of her foolishness with the back of her hand. Tears: hot, humiliating. She could not stop them.
“Eugie.” He had risen from the bed without her taking note, and his hand was on her back now, tracing her spine in a caress.
She stepped away from him, whirling. “Do not touch me.”
“We will marry, of course,” he said, staring at her, standing there clad in nothing but his breeches, unfairly beautiful. “I will go to your brother in the morning and ask for your hand.”
“No,” she snapped at him. “We will not. And you will not.”
Dev would kill him. And her. She did not say all that, however. Because she could not say anything. Her emotions were choking her. Her tears were embarrassing her.
She did not wait for his response. Did not bother to retrieve her dressing gown. She simply fled.
Chapter Eight
Cam woke tothe scent of Eugie on his sheets. To the reminder of his folly vividly represented in the specks of her blood mottling the bed linens.
And to a hard cock.
Because he was a beast.
A stupid, rutting beast.
He had lost control. He had become no better than his father. Had betrayed his sense of right and wrong. Had taken Eugie’s innocence. Something he had no right to claim. And he wanted to do it now all over again.
Lord God, the feeling of being deep inside her body. She had been so tight, so wet. He could still feel the heat of her. The trace of his tongue over his lower lip revealed he could still taste her, too.
He passed a hand over his face, groaning in misery. He had been wrong about her. Some part of him had known it before he had torn through her maidenhead. Before the cloud of hurt darkening her eyes when she had made the realization of just how much of an ass he was.
He had merely been so greedy, so selfish in his desire for her, he had not listened to the voice of reason. Her response to him had inflamed him. She did not kiss like a virgin. He had told himself a virgin would not permit the liberties he had taken.
