‘He is a gentleman, at least, and people often remark that he is handsome and charming.’
‘He looks like a spaniel with all that ridiculous hair flopping everywhere.’ Rawden sneered. ‘I cannot abide a dandy.’
‘Well, there is no chance of you ever being one. You look more like a thug or a highwayman,’ said Grace.
He laughed and swigged from the bottle again. His shirt hung open, exposing an expanse of black hair and a solid, muscular chest. Rawden might be an animal, but he was a sleek, beautiful one. He brought to mind a panther she had once seen in a zoo, for there was a perilous grace about him which was mesmerising and ruinous to anyone who fell for it.
‘A highwayman, I like that,’ he said. Rawden’s black eyes met hers and held her prisoner. ‘What if I was to come and steal away your virtue in the dead of night, Grace?’
Her belly coiled with tension when he hissed her name. ‘You made a promise, Rawden, and even you are not so dishonourable as to break it.’
‘You think you know me well enough to be sure? Ah, Grace, if you only knew what despicable thoughts are running through my mind at this very moment.’
‘Do not tell me, for I have no wish to see into your soul.’
‘I can see into yours.’ Rawden leant over, his arms braced on the armchair and put his face in hers. Grace could see down his shirt to his taut belly. She could smell him, and he smelled good. His lips hovered an inch from her own.
‘You are thinking what a despicable husband I am, that you hate this house, and you hate me even more,’ he said quietly. ‘You have an honest face that cannot hold a lie well.’
‘I never said that I hate this house.’
‘I hate it, so why should you not? I hate my estates and my birthright even more.’
Grace swallowed down anger. ‘How can you have all these gifts – wealth, land and title - and yet shun them?
‘Because they were never meant to be mine. And are you a gift, Grace? Should I shun you or make good on my wedding vows?’
‘No, Rawden.’
Suddenly, he pulled her up by her elbow, his face in hers, mouth close, eyes glazed with lust. Grace wriggled but could not get free. ‘I thought you might have a scrap of honour in your soul, but you are just like the others, Rawden.’
He stepped closer. ‘No, I am worse.’ He shook her gently. ‘Have you any idea what it has cost me in shame and guilt to marry you? So tell me, should I do the right thing and let you run off to your cage now, little bird, before my restraint shrinks as my loins swell. Or should we both succumb to my wicked character?’
Rawden was so close that Grace could almost taste the port on his lips. ‘You swore you would not lay a hand on me,’ she squeaked.
‘I did not swear on a bible, and maybe I have changed my mind.’
‘You cannot.’
‘I can, and do you know why? Because I think you want me to touch you. You are curious about where it would lead, and that is why you came downstairs. Be honest with yourself. When we kissed, you did not end it at once. Tell me you don’t want my hands on you, Grace. Look me in the eye and say it, and then you will be safe.’
Grace stared up into his fierce eyes and was overwhelmed by her feelings. Rawden Voss was terrifying and beautiful all at once. She tried to take her eyes off his snarl of a mouth, so sensual, his lips slightly parted, ready to join with her own. And the look of fierce admiration he gave her, as if, at that moment, he saw no one and nothing but her, brought a flush to Grace’s cheeks and a pulse of reckless desire to her loins. No one had ever wanted her before, and she had a burning need to reach out and touch him. Her world spun as wickedness took hold of her heart and would not let go.
‘I…I cannot say it,’ she whispered, for all the air seemed to have left her lungs at the hungry look in his eyes.
As soon as she confessed to her attraction, Rawden’s mouth was on her, roaming from a deep, searching kiss on the mouth and then to her neck and behind her ear. ‘Your hair smells like summer,’ he breathed, his lips leaving warm pools of desire behind on her flesh, which suddenly ached for him. ‘What is between us cannot be denied,’ he growled, sinking his fingers into her hair and holding her mouth against his. ‘We both feel it. Let me make you mine, Grace.’
His mouth tasted sweet and heady from the port, and she wanted to gorge on it. The bottle hit the floor with a thud and, as if she had no free will, Grace let Rawden take her hand in his and lead her up the stairs.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was cold in Grace’s bedchamber, but Rawden was on fire with anticipation. He took hold of her and nudged her onto the bed, taking care not to crush her small body with his own, and together, they writhed against the coverlet in an exquisite agony of kisses and caresses. It seemed that once Grace admitted she desired him, she held nothing back and stared up at him with those wide, beautiful eyes as he took what he wanted.
There was no protest, only gasped pleasure, as he pulled off her shawl and began to remove her clothes, like shedding the petals of a pretty, gilded flower. He took his time, slowly undoing Grace’s buttons and pulling her dress off, all the while fighting his swollen manhood and willing himself to be patient. He distracted her with kisses and murmured words of reassurance. Only when she pressed herself against him, and her sighs and little moans grew louder and more urgent, did Rawden begin to shed her undergarments.
Grace was still in her corset, so he turned her and kissed the back of her neck as he undid the laces. Her hair had started coming down in dark red coils, and he swept them over her shoulder. How silken was her skin, her shoulder blades small and delicate, making his manhood stiffen to bursting with the need to possess her. Grace gasped as he slid her silken petticoats down her body to reveal a bottom of utter perfection - pert and rounded.
‘Do not be afraid,’ he breathed onto her back, and she turned and gave him a look of utter vulnerability. He shed her corset, leaving Grace naked and trembling before him, her skin pale against the red coverlet, licked by shadows from the dying fire.
