“I’ll not—”
“You will!” His hand clamped hard upon her again, but she gave it no heed. She wasn’t about to take care. She surged against him with all of her strength, seeking to kick him. She thrashed violently against him, flailing and twisting in a fury.
Eric didn’t fight back. He just held her, letting her arch, writhe, and twist. Her efforts were almost amusing to him, she realized. He had only to maintain his grasp upon her wrists, and the power of his body hold did the rest.
While she…
She had managed only to wrest herself closely against him, leaving her legs as naked as her breasts.
“Be still!” he warned again.
Amanda fell silent, a blush scorching all of her flesh, for she was already half naked and he was studying her at his leisure. She tried to twist away from him, but his hold upon her wrists was firm. She went still at last, aware that the ruffles of his shirt hung down upon the bareness of her nipples and breasts, and that her position was precarious indeed. Always with him she was wrested and beaten, so it seemed. She moistened her lips, horrified to realize their position. She thought of his hands, should they move. Should they touch her. She thought of the feel of his lips upon hers, and she wondered what the sensation would be if they moved lower against her, brushing her shoulder blades, closing upon her breasts. She felt the hardness of his thighs against her hips, the pressure of his manhood against the near-naked territory at the apex of her thighs, and suddenly she was truly silent, no longer wishing to defy him, desperate only that he should move away from her.
She shook her head. His fingers eased from her swollen lips. “I shall not scream! I shall not. I swear it.”
He watched her for a long, hard moment. Then he sat back. She was still his prisoner, still captive between his muscular thighs.
“What do you want?” she whispered.
“Many things,” he told her casually, “but at the moment, I want my letter returned.”
Amanda stiffened, then forced herself to relax, offering him a wide-eyed smile. “Why ever would you think—”
“I don’t think, I know. And by God’s blood, lady, cease the dramatics with me, for though you do bat your lashes prettily, you are a liar and we both know it. I want my letter now. Or you shall forfeit something else.”
She was seething with fury, hating him for his crude and quick ability to see through her. She gritted her teeth. “Truly, Lord Cameron, your behavior is not civilized!”
“If it was civilized, I would not be here. I am pretending nothing, Amanda. I am no gentleman, and no fool, so do be warned and take heed for the future. I want my letter.”
“I—I don’t have it anymore.”
His fingers closed harshly upon her shoulders, wrenching her up against him with such violence that she cried out in pain. He thrust her back down again, heedless of the pain, his lips very near to hers as he spoke. “I may well lose my own neck over you one day, Lady Sterling, but I’ll not have other men endangered because of your treachery. Where is the envelope?”
“I gave it to my father.”
“You’re lying!” he snapped so quickly that she gasped and trembled and bit her lip in an effort to stay still. She had forgotten his knife. It lay against her cheek now. He stroked her face with it.
“You would not use that,” she challenged him.
“Perhaps not.” His eyes were very dark but glittering still in the night. “Perhaps I would use other means to reach my end.”
She didn’t know what he meant, only that the warning was very real. She didn’t want to discover what lay beneath it. “It’s—it’s in the pocket of my gown.”
If he was dying with desire for her, he certainly betrayed no emotion then. He was off her in a second, dragging her from the bed. His hat had fallen to the floor in their scuffle and now he swept it up atop his head. Stumbling, she tried to draw her gown together. She hurried to the wardrobe with him two steps behind her. She could barely open the door, and when she found the dress, he pushed her aside, reaching into the fashionable pocket hidden within the skirt. He found the envelope and thrust the dress back inside, and closed the door.
“Why did you take it?”
“Because—because you’re a traitor. And you have to get out of here. Now.”
“Oh? And you intend to prove that I’m a traitor?”
“No!” she cried with horror. “I just…I…”
“Pray, do go on.”
“You get out of here! Before I do choose to scream!”
But he didn’t move. He was watching her very closely. She clasped the gown closely about her, backing away. Something about him was exceptionally fierce in the strange shadowland of the bedroom, and yet she no longer felt the explosion of anger about him. He stepped toward her, towering in his tricorn and cape.
