“This one is mine,” he told the man. “Find another lady to your liking.”
For a stupid moment, her heart rejoiced at the notion of the Duke of Richford calling her his. But then she recalled why he was chasing after her. He was angry with her and likely intent on punishment, before he chased her from the house party.
He wanted nothing to do with her. This was all about his pride and sense of duty to her brother.
Outrage shot through Rhiannon. “I am not?—”
The look Richford suddenly gave her had her words dying in her throat.
“Mine,” he repeated. “And I’m not sharing, Chattingham.”
“The lady has a mind of her own,” protested the man at her side—presumably Lord Chattingham—who was indeed a notorious Lothario. “I should think that if she wished to be with you, she would have been with you instead of you chasing after her like a mongrel nipping at her heels.”
Richford’s nostrils flared. “Insult me again, and I’ll see your arse thrown not just from this club but from this house. You’ll never again attend another house party at Wingfield Hall.”
Chattingham stepped away from Rhiannon, clearly not wanting to be banished from the pleasure soirees hosted by the club. It would seem his interest in her had easily waned in the face of Richford’s threats.
“Forgive me,” Chattingham said coolly. “I didn’t realize Lady Pink was yours.” He gave her a speculative look as he performed a dramatic bow. “If the two of you will excuse me, I’m off in search of other entertainments.”
Richford’s lip curled. “See that you are.”
When Chattingham had taken his leave and disappeared down the hall, Richford’s hand clamped firmly on Rhiannon’s upper arm.
“Unhand me,” she snapped instantly, struggling to free herself, to no avail.
“I think not. You’re coming with me, and you’re not leaving until we’re through having our talk, even if I have to tie you to a bloody chair.”
At his words, a frisson of something went through her. There were many whispers about the Duke of Richford, some of them more salacious than others. One of them concerned his preferences in the bedchamber. It was said he liked to tie his women up.
Rhiannon found the very thought horrifying and yet also strangely intriguing at the same time. Just as with the books she secreted filled with wicked scenes and sinful words, she was at once ashamed by her interest and disgusted with herself for it, yet unable to deny the way it made her feel.
She hadn’t given the rumors a thought during their heated arguments, however. Not until now.
Unbidden, thoughts of his lovers filled her mind. All the women he had kissed and taken to his bed, the ones who had spread those rumors.
“I suppose you are skilled with a knot and rope,” she said unkindly.
His bearded jaw hardened. “Don’t test me, little naïf.”
The air between them was suddenly simmering and heavy. She was potently aware of him as a man in a way she hadn’t been of Chattingham or any other gentleman in her acquaintance. Why, of all the gentlemen at this cursed house party, did she have to harbor a secrettendrefor this one? He had made his disdain for her lack of experience more than clear. Had called her a girl. Had never spared her a second glance before yesterday. He was intent upon sending her to London.
But was he also attracted to her?
She licked her lips, thinking of the kisses they had shared, of the taste of him, of his tongue wicked and slick and demanding in her mouth.
His gaze dipped to her lips. “I ought to turn you over my knee for what you did to me in that salon. You’re fortunate indeed that your aim is slightly off and I was able to recover. Christ knows what that arse Chattingham had in store for you. Tell me, how would you explain to your brother if you went home with a babe in your belly?”
His words were tinged with anger.
They shocked her.
Richford bent his head toward hers. “You didn’t think about that, did you, brat? Nor, I’ll wager, did you think about what might happen if a man pressed you to do more than you wished.”
Her brow furrowed, the heat in her veins turning to ice. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that while we do our utmost to protect all the members who attend our house parties, anything can happen here. We are but a few pairs of eyes, and we cannot be everywhere at once. An innocent lamb like you would be no match for any of the jaded voluptuaries here.”
Someone else was approaching them now, two women and a man, all three of them singing a bawdy song. It appeared as if they were deep in their cups. The women’s arms were around each other’s waists, and the one of them had an arm around the gentleman’s hips, her hand on the fall of his trousers.
