First, they’d entered together through a gated back entrance flanked by a pair of guards. By “entered together,” she meant that she’d refused to walk and Strathaven had consequently acted like a savage, tossing her over his shoulder and carting her inside. Even from her topsy-turvy perspective, she’d deduced from the richly decorated and quiet corridor that this was an exclusive, secretive place.
Second, another guard had led them to the present chamber which was decorated in alarming shades of scarlet and gold. A fresco on one wall dominated the room: it depicted a naked woman, her nipples painted a lurid red, her body chained to a rock overlooking the sea. The tubular (and rather phallic) head of a giant sea monster thrust ominously from the foamy waves.
Finally, the proprietress of the establishment who greeted them now had a distinctly disreputable look about her. Introducing herself as Mrs. Roddy, she was a handsome, voluptuous blonde who wore more rouge than clothing, and she leered when Strathaven set a bound and furious Emma on her feet.
“Welcome to Andromeda’s,” Mrs. Roddy said. “Games are underway already, are they?”
Games? What games? What does the infernal woman mean?
“I’m being kidnapped!” Emma said indignantly.
Unfortunately, it came out as “Mmf bemf kdmgf!”
Truthfully, she was more angry than frightened. Never in her life had she been manhandled in such a manner—oranymanner. She wasn’t used to being told what to do, never mind being forced into places against her will. Strathaven was acting no better than a barbarian!
When she tried to get away from him, his arm circled her waist like a steel band, trapping her against his side. She struggled and succeeded only in rubbing herself against his rigid form. Again, the blighter’s proximity had a queer effect on her senses: her belly quivered, followed by a molten feeling lower down. Her breath hit the linen in quick, successive bursts.
Ruddiness stained the high ridges of the duke’s cheekbones.
“Stop wriggling about,” he ordered.
She glared at him.Then let me go, you heathen!
Ignoring her, he said, “Has everything been arranged, Mrs. Roddy?”
“Yes, your grace. And if there’sanythingelse you need…”
With a suggestive flutter of her sooted lashes, the proprietress performed a curtsy that showed rather too much of her charms. In fact, the robust mounds nearly spilled out of her non-existent bodice.Why bother wearing a dress at all?Catching herself, Emma frowned at the uncharitable thought. Nonetheless, she couldn’t resist darting a look at Strathaven who looked unimpressed by the display.
Not that she cared, of course.
“See that we’re not disturbed for the next half hour,” he said dismissively.
The simpering proprietress departed.
Alone with Strathaven, Emma was torn between fury... and burning curiosity.
Why did he bring me here? What does he hope to prove?
Her instincts told her that he wouldn’t hurt her; if he wished to, he could have attacked her in the carriage. He’d sworn that he didn’t intend to harm her, and Emma hoped that Annabel was right in saying that his wickedness hid an honorable character.
Honorable is a definite stretch, Emma thought darkly.What does the blackguard want?
He went to a set of crimson drapes and parted them in a bold sweep. Emma blinked as a door was revealed. He opened it, and curious in spite of herself, she craned her neck for a better look. A pulse fluttered at the side of her neck as she glimpsed flickering dimness.
“’Tis your choice, Miss Kent,” Strathaven said. “You can either walk through this door on your own two feet or we can have a repeat performance of our earlier entrance.”
Some choice, she thought in disgust.
She assessed the situation. Standing there in his immaculate charcoal cutaway and trousers, his lean form radiating taut power, Strathaven looked ducal. Merciless. A man who didn’t issue threats idly. If she didn’t make a decision in the next few seconds, she had no doubt he would once again toss her over his shoulder.
“Not afraid, are you?” Now his words held the taunting edge of challenge.
Did he think to intimidate her? She was no wilting violet who was going to faint at the sight of a dark room. Squaring her shoulders, she set forth through the doorway.
She entered the enveloping darkness and heard the door click shut, sealing her and Strathaven inside. The air turned heavy and humid in her lungs. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that they were in a narrow, dead-end corridor. Flickering wall sconces illuminated a row of wooden slats set at eye level on both sides of the hallway. Peculiar, muffled sounds raised goose pimples on her skin, her heart beating a furious staccato.
“I’m going to free you now,” Strathaven said in a low voice. “Be quiet if you don’t wish to be discovered—and I assure you, you don’t.”
