“Please, Venus.”
She huffed a sigh, hating her heart for the way it reacted to his ridiculous pet name for her. “I’ve told you again and again, I’m no goddess. I’m a widow who is thirty years old. I’m bitter and jaded, and the only thing I want from a man is the pleasure he can give me, not his name.”
But even as she made the protestation, it fell weakly from her. Brandon’s mouth was on her throat now, kissing softly. Her resistance was melting faster than a candle thrown into a blazing fire.
He lifted his head, storms swirling in his eyes. “I’m three-and-thirty, which makes me three years your senior. I’m also bitter and jaded, and until recently, the only thing I wanted from a woman was the pleasure she could give me. But that has changed. PerhapsI’veeven changed.”
No, no, no. This was not what she wanted to hear. She didn’t want tender kisses or sweet protestations. She didn’t want him to stay her. She wanted him to let her flee.
“Brandon.”
“Lottie.”
Another sigh left her, so deep this time that the undersides of her breasts grazed his arms. “You know what I’m telling you. What do you have to gain by keeping me here? You’ll not persuade me to marry you.”
“Because you’re running from me, damn you, and I don’t accept that.” His words were urgent, practically vibrating with undeniable feeling that caused an ache deep inside her. “I’ve thoroughly enjoyed your company these last few weeks.”
“You’ve enjoyed my body,” she countered grimly. “You’ll find another woman to warm your bed with ease. Never fear.”
“Yes, but she won’t be you, damn it.”
He spun her about suddenly so that she faced him, trapped in the circle of his arms, her bare breasts pinned to him, her nipples crushed into a wall of muscle, her hands settling on his broadshoulders. But it was not his finely honed body alone that made a curious tingling pass through her. Rather, it was the way he was looking down at her, such raw tenderness in his eyes, in the relaxed lines of his countenance.
She swallowed hard, trying not to think about Brandon with another woman as he inevitably would be—future lovers, his bride, sharing his bed, knowing him as intimately as she did. How she loathed the notion.
“Whomever you choose as your wife,” Lottie forced out, “she will be better than me.”
He shook his head, ever stubborn, his jaw tightening. “No one can be better than you.”
Was that his charm talking? He couldn’t truly believe that no other woman would make him a better wife. She was too bitter, too old. She had known too much of the disappointments life inevitably had in store, and she didn’t want any more.
“Your grandmother is holding your feet to the fire with an impending marriage, else you’ll lose Wingfield Hall,” she continued, determined to reason with him. “Surely you cannot believe she would be satisfied with you marrying a jaded widow of my advanced age, and one with a noted reputation for taking lovers of her own.”
“She cannot choose my bride,” he vowed. “I would sooner see my odious cousin walk away with the estate.”
“If he did that, there would be no reason for you to wed,” she pointed out quietly.
“But why mustIsettle?” His emerald gaze searched hers, seeking answers she didn’t want to give. “Why can I not have the wife I desire and the estate that is rightfully mine both?”
“Spoken like a man,” she said. “A duke who has never known a moment of being denied what he wanted, when he wanted it. I’m not an estate, Brandon. I’m a woman. You cannot keep me. Your spoiled tantrums shan’t work on me.”
He worked his jaw some more. “So you mean to tell me that everything we’ve shared has meant less than nothing to you? Is that what you expect me to believe? That you only wanted me for my cock?”
She bit her lip at his crudeness, unsure of what to say.
They were already hurting each other, and she hated it.
“Don’t you see?” She shook her head. “This is what I seek to avoid.”
“What?” he asked. “Feeling? I hate to tell you, darling, but life is all about feeling. You cannot exist for a second on this earth without feeling something. It’s a sheer impossibility that defies all logic and reason.”
“Perhaps I’m mad, then. But I should like to keep myself free of all such encumbrance.”
“You think emotion an encumbrance?”
She closed her eyes as hot tears stung them. “I think it a mistake. A weapon that can be wielded against me. I’ll not allow it to happen. Not ever again.” Her voice was shaking, her hands trembling.
“I hate that bastard for hurting you,” he growled.
