He reached her in two strides andtook hold of her shoulders in a punishing grip. “Youknewwhere I came from, my lady. I thought you might have realized what sort of man I am by now.But it’s a shame that your tender sensibilities are so injured by your ignorance.”
As Isabella gasped, Logan stepped toward him. “That’s enough, Ridge. As much as I respect you,I will not stand by while you bullyher.”
“Youbrought her here,” Ridge snapped. “She’s my responsibilitynow.”When Logan hesitated, he added firmly, “I vow that no harm will come to her.”
In the end, Logan nodded curtly andturned on his heel.
***
“Mr. Montgomery, wait!” Isabella shouted after Logan’sretreating form, but it was too late. He was gone.
She turned her fierce gaze back on Ridge. How could she have ever imagined that she was in love with him? At the moment, she despisedeverything about him, but above all,his highhanded arrogancewas not to be borne.She twisted totry toget away from him, but he held her fast.“Release meat once, you…you…beast!” she demanded.
Hechuckled. “I don’t think so.” With that, he bent and lifted her into his arms.Shestruggled in his grasp, but it was no use. He was too strong, his armswerelike steel bands around her as he carried her up the stairs.
As hestrodedown the corridor, they passed rooms where low moans of ecstasy could be heard from within. She wanted to put her hands over her ears to ward off the sounds, forit was obviouswhat was transpiring behind those closed doors. It seemed to sully the treasured moments she’d spent in Ridge’s arms, for surely, she was just another tup in a world rife with so many pleasures at his fingertips.
At the end of the hall, he kicked open a door with his boot, slamming it shut behind him the same way.Once they were insidehe set her on her feet,and thenlockedthe door behind them. He braced his feet apart and crossed his arms, looking at her with that unnerving, dark stare.“You might as well make yourself comfortable, because you’re not leaving this room unless I give you leave to do so.”
Isabella released a pent up breath of frustration, resisting the urge to stomp her foot. “You’re incorrigible!”
He shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.”
She abruptly turned away,unable to look at him any longer. But ifshe was being truly honest with herself, she wasn’t angry at Ridge so much as herself. She daredto allow his behavior—hisbrutish treatment—to actuallyexciteher.
She shook her head, for she must be mad if such horrid conduct was actuallyarousing!
Isabella glanced about the interior of the room and was surprised to find that the furnishings were actually rather…simple. There was a wardrobe,desk,washstand,anda privacy screen in the corner, along with severalbookshelves linedwith tomes on philosophy and the arts. It was all rather tame compared to the rest of the establishment. Even the bed covering was plain with its particularly cozy, patchwork-quiltedcounterpane.
“I gather you were expecting nude paintings lining the walls,” Ridge drawled from behind her.
Her face warmed, for it was as if he’d read her exact thoughts. “I daresay it’s not what I expected,” she admitted.
“These are my personal quarters,” heexplained. “Millicent keeps it open for my use when I’m in London.” He paused. “I’ve never brought anyone in here.”
She had to snort at that. “Now that I find a bit harder to believe.”
“I didn’t say I never inhabited any of the other rooms,” he returned evenly. “But this one has always been off limits. My own personal haven.”
“Indeed.” She turned back to where he continued to stand by the door. “And did you tell me that to make me feel better?”
“No. To let you know that you’re different.”
Isabella’s pulse began to race, but she refused to give in to his magnetism.“Different, how?” she asked. “Because I don’t have rooms of my own here?”
He frowned darkly,and she feared she’d gone too far, but after everything that had happened between them recently, she wasn’t feeling very charitable at the moment. She might still ache to be with him, to want nothing more than to fling herself into his arms, but the pain of his desertion at Ashfield Hall was still acute. The sight of him riding away from the manor stung even now.
“You have it all wrong, Isabella,” he said softly.
“Do I?” She hated the way her voice suddenly trembled. “Because I don’t believe I imagined it when you left me.”
Her eyes pricked with unshed tears, so she turned away, refusing to let them fall. She would not show any signs of weakness.Her pride refused to allow it.
After several moments, she felt the light touch of his hand as it brushed the base of her neckandshe couldn’t stop a slightflinch, her stomach fluttering with anticipation, yearningfor more of his touch. “Do you think your mother would have allowed me to remain?” he asked gently.“I did what I had to do at the time. Some battles are best left to fight another day.”
Isabellarefused to let him rob her of her anger. She turned aroundto confront him,and gasped at how close he was. His presenceoverwhelmed her, robbed her of her senses, but there were things that needed to be said between them. “You’re right, of course. But tell me something, Mr. Claymoore.” She spoke formally on purpose. “If I hadn’t shown up on Millicent’s doorstep, would you have even returned to Ashfield Hall?” She shook her head. “Because I don’t think so.”
He stilled, his dark eyes assessing. “Do you have such little faith in me? Or how I feel about you?”
