“Greedy wench,” the man growled loudly. “Can’t wait for my cock, can you?”
Richford muttered something unintelligible under his breath and began propelling her down the hall. “Don’t listen to a word they’re saying,” he cautioned, his voice low.
Too late. She had ears. Did Richford think she was a child? Rhiannon made a disagreeable face at the back of his golden head while he plowed on down the hall.
“Richford, is that you?” asked the man as they neared each other. “I say, would you like to join us? You can bring your luscious lady friend along.”
“Not a bloody chance,” the duke bit out, continuing on.
“Shy, is she? She can watch,” the man suggested.
“Go to the devil,” Richford snapped.
“Suit yourselves,” the man called after them.
Richford rushed her through the great hall next, forcing her to hasten after him and nearly trip over her hems in the process.
“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, breathless.
“To your bloody room where we won’t have an interruption every two minutes.”
“I’ll not be locked within again,” she warned him. “My aim won’t be so poor next time if you try it. I’ll render you a eunuch.”
“Christ,” he muttered. “You are the most maddening bit of baggage I’ve ever met. I ought to turn you over to your brother this second.”
“Why don’t you, then?” she taunted.
They both knew the answer. He didn’t want her to tell Rhys about the kisses they’d shared.
The remainder of her forced march back to her bedroom was conducted in a tense silence. She was too aware of Richford at her side, her body painfully attentive to his. By the time they were once more closeted in her bedroom, away from prying eyes and ears behind a closed door, she was all but breathless. And not just from struggling to keep up with his long-limbed strides either.
Richford turned to face her, his expression a stern and impassive mask. “Now, then. First, you will apologize for your vicious attack upon my person.”
He was speaking about her knee in his groin.
She tipped up her chin, feeling defiant. “I’m only sorry you caught me.”
His eyes narrowed. “Wrong answer, minx. Try again, and the next place I’ll take you is directly to your brother.”
“So that I can tell him you kissed me?”
“If it comes to that, yes. He can hate me all he likes. I’m more than happy for you to go back to being his problem instead of mine.”
Rhiannon sighed, resisting the urge to throw something else at him. There was nothing sufficiently close at hand. Her hairbrush was too far away, on the dresser where he’d left it earlier.
“Fine. I’m sorry for attempting to escape from you in such a fashion. Are you happy?”
Richford cocked a golden brow. “I’ll also require your promise you won’t try anything like that again.”
“Then I’ll also have your promise that you’ll stop making disparaging comments about me,” she countered, still stung by his continued treatment of her.
It was difficult enough to accept that he would never see her as a woman. That despite the kisses they’d shared, he felt no more for her than he had for anyone else. Her pride wasn’t just wounded; it had been decimated, and her fragile heart along with it.
He chuckled darkly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands of me, little naïf. In case you failed to notice, I’m the one with the power to dismantle your foolish hope of remaining here. All I have to do is say one word to Whit, and you’ll be gone.”
That was the last thing she wanted.
“Don’t,” she pleaded.
