“I might,” he said with dry lack of conviction.
“You are a loathsome man!” she snapped and was sure she saw the groomtwitch. Well, she doubted they were fooling the Belcraven servants.
“Along with my loathsome maulings,” he drawled, still relaxed. But shecould see the anger in him.
The rest of the journey passed in total silence.
When he handed her down from the carriage by the porte cochere, Bethstalked away, eager to escape. He caught up and gripped her arm. “Slowly,”he said. “Remember our agreement.”
Beth glanced at the coach, just pulling away. “If you think we foolthem, you are more stupid than I imagined.”
“But you have never imagined me stupid, Elizabeth. The servants observea great deal, but that is no reason to behave outrageously. You promisedto act the part in public.”
Beth turned on him. For once, rare blessing there was no servant insight.“Youpromised to believe me an honest woman.”
“Not quite. I promised to act as if you were. And am I supposed tobelieve you to be a naive little widgeon? A woman who reads theclassics.”
“There is surely some ground between an empty-headed idiot and a brazenhussy!”
“No man’s land,” he commented thoughtfully. “Is that what you areclaiming still?”
“I am no man’s,” Beth stated, confused.
“You are mine.”
“I am not. I am my own woman and always will be.”
A spark lit in his eyes and his hands came around her throat. Shefroze. “What ?”
“I have this urge to throttle you,” he said in a strange, contemplativevoice. “I wonder if Nicholas is right?”
Beth gaped at him. He’d run mad. When she swallowed nervously she couldfeel the tightness of his thumbs across the front of her throat. Just alittle tighter and she would be in mortal danger. Where, for heaven’ssake, were the ubiquitous servants?
Then his thumbs slid up until they rested on the soft underside of herjaw, making small circles against her jawbone, bringing a sweet, meltingsensation she couldn’t fight, though she tried. He lowered his head.
“Don’t,” she pleaded, but he ignored her.
His lips were firm and warm and gentle, but Beth was frightened. Shetried to twist away, but his hands trapped her. She felt the moistness ofhis mouth on hers and the invasion of a teasing tongue. She moaned aprotest but at the same time she could feel that melting sensation weavingthrough her, softening her bones.
His lips left hers slowly and she felt their absence. He ran a thumbacross her trembling lips. “Perhaps Nicholas is right,” he said. “But Iapologize again. I have no wish to frighten you and, as you said recently,there’s no need for my loathsome maulings yet, is there? Ah, Thomas . ..”
Beth jerked around to see a footman standing stonily nearby. How longhad he been there?
“Perhaps you would escort Miss Armitage to her apartments,” themarquess said. He looked down at Beth. “A new compact?” he offered.
Beth swallowed. That kiss had not been loathsome at all. The fact thathe remembered her comment, though, told her she might actually have hurthim. The duchess had perhaps been right about the state of his nerves.
“Very well,” she said. “A new compact.”
She followed the footman but looked back. The marquess was stillwatching her, frowning. Was he angry? Or was he, in fact, as anxious andunsure as she?
Lucien saw his betrothed’s anxious, puzzled backwards glance. She hadreason to be bemused, but she was enough to make a man fit for Bedlam. Shedefied him and challenged him, and his every instinct clamored tooverpower her, to make her call him master.
He could bully her, he could force her, but he was equally sure hecould seduce her if he really tried.
The ridiculous thing was that he suspected he could do nothing. Thethought of hurting Elizabeth, even in such a minor way as stealing anunwilling kiss, was repugnant.
Hehadwanted to throttle her, but it had been a need to mark her,to make her notice him and not some phantasm she carried in herovereducated head. He’d found in kissing her the same need. He wanted toseduce her, to ravish her, to drive all her clever, caustic thoughts outof her head until she was subject to him, needing him.
