“Revenge is not something I pay for.” He released her and leaned back against the wall next to the window. “And neither will I pay for the chance to take you to bed. You will come willingly, or not at all.”
* * *
At least hehas some honor, Fleur thought. She couldn’t readily say that about all the men that had been at that dreadful auction. They were quite lewd with their remarks and considering the choices she’d had, she supposed that Mr. Porter wasn’t turning out to be as bad as she’d originally feared. While she wouldn’t go so far as to say she felt comfortable with him, she could admit that she didn’t worry he would hurt her. She was grateful that he promised he wouldn’t force her into his bed but she had no doubt he would try to convince her with his actions if not flowery prose.
As she inspected him, she realized that his scars didn’t look quite so frightful in the dim moonlight. And his dark hair was rather appealing. “I haven’t seen you without a hat until now,” she noted.
“I generally wear one all the time.”
“Are you that dedicated to fashion?” she attempted to tease.
“No.” he said somberly. “The hat serves a purpose with the razor blades sewn into the brim.”
“Oh. I see.” She thought about it further and added, “Does that really stop an attack from happening?”
His eyes glittered with unconcealed menace. “It does when you blind them with a quick slash across the eyes.”
Fleur put a hand to her stomach. She wondered if she might be sick. “That’s dreadful.”
Those silver eyes glittered. “So is facing someone who wants you dead.”
She tried to swallow the bile threatening to rise in her throat. “I suppose if you have no other choice…” She moved away from the window, mainly to put some distance between them. She felt like she couldn’t properly breathe around him. “Whatever happened to talking out problems?”
“That doesn’t work for everyone. The people I know prefer to act first.”
She hugged herself, vividly recalling the sick crunch of bone against bone in that pit. “Yes, so I gathered this evening.”
“That was sport, not a true attack.”
She turned to him in frustration. “But why engage in something that violent at all? We are supposed to live in a proper society where rules are meantnotto be broken and gentlemen tip their hats to ladies and?—”
He interrupted with a snort. “You are living in a fantasy world. Those things don’t exist.”
“They do,” she returned emphatically. “I have witnessed it myself?—”
He moved closer to her. “That may be but what you don’t see is what happens after the door closes. Men usher their mistresses in the back door while their wives are enjoying their own peccadillos across town. The glorious world that you have painted for yourself is nothing but a façade for the licentious truths.”
Fleur lowered her head. She hated to hear him spew such venom but at the same time, she knew he spoke with candor. Mr. Porter wasn’t the type of man to be anything less than honest because there was nothing for him to lose if he did so. He didn’t have to lie. There was no profit in it. He’d already won her hand—and her body.
Taking a deep breath, Fleur decided that the time had come for this evening to reach its conclusion. She reached up and slid part of the white lawn shirt off of her shoulder. But when she reached for the other side to do the same, to allow the garment to slide to the floor and bare her fully to his gaze. He put a hand on her shoulder to pause her movements.
“Look at me, Fleur.”
It was the first time he’d used her given name.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze until it met his. She nearly gasped at the intensity she saw in his raw expression. Dare she believe that it was almost… empathetic?
But as soon as she thought she glimpsed an instant of human emotion, it was quickly snuffed out. The blackguard had returned. “Another night. I am quite exhausted this evening.”
She doubted that was the truth but she wasn’t about to question his motives, whatever they were. Then again, as she allowed her focus to travel over his broad, muscled chest, she wondered if perhaps he was suffering from the beating he’d received earlier. No doubt his opponent was doing much worse.
He removed his hand and she put the shirt sleeves back in place. “Of course. Whatever you wish, Mr. Porter. You are in charge of this affair.”
He smirked, part of his mouth lifting the slightest degree. “If that were true,” he murmured.
He headed for the door and she was confused. She knew that there were no other beds to be had. “Where are you going? There’s nowhere else to sleep.”
He paused and turned back to face her. “I can see it didn’t take you long to intrude on my personal space.”
