She refocused her attention to the man brooding in the seat beside her. “How much longer?”
Not deigning to turn his attention from the horse’s rear, he replied, “Not much.”
Well,thatconversation died a horrible death.
She tried again. “Your estate is beautiful. You must be proud.”
“Yes.” His clipped reply dug into her skin, and her face tightened.
Is that it?
It was like pulling tiger’s teeth. She’d done her best to be polite and act the gracious passenger, but if he wanted to pretend she wasn’t there, she’d be damned if she made it easy.
“I must say, everything looks greener than I imagined. Of course, most things look greener when you’re not slung over the pommel of a saddle, unconscious.”
His knuckles turned white on the reins, and she hid her smile behind her hand, unwilling to give him something more to grumble about.
“Bad things happen when you slink around in the dark.” His deep voice carried an undercurrent that played havoc with her brain, and areas much lower.
Hell.
She shifted in her seat, too warm for her dress. What did he mean by “bad things?”
While she conjured up naughty images, he continued ignoring her.
For God’s sake, she made a great living grabbing and holding the attentions and desires of thousands of men over her career. Why was it so difficult to get this man to acknowledge her presence for longer than the second it took to spit out a response? For that matter, why did she even care? Leaning as far from the duke as possible, she turned her gaze to the grass passing beneath the front wheel. She couldn’t understand her ridiculous and incredibly dangerous desire to have this man’s full attention.
She’d spent thousands of dollars a year on hair and skin products, cosmetics, a gym membership, boutique clothing, and hours of electrolysis. Her job required she look her best, and she enjoyed the benefits her good looks brought—namely the obscene tips she earned that helped her pay off Elgin’s debts. While she primped and pampered, she didn’t do it for her own personal benefit. She’d be perfectly happy in a pair of old sweats, bare faced, and her hair up in a sloppy bun. Honest with herself, she couldn’t care less if her hair was glossy, or her clothes brand named. She wasn’t a vain person in the least, shrugging off compliments, kudos, and the feverish, hungry looks she’d earned for performances. So why did she care about what the duke thought of her, or whether he looked at her?
Her anger was out of place and so unlike her personality and usual attitude. None of it made sense, but she couldn’t keep from hungering for any morsel of his consideration.
Breathe. Don’t be an attention glut. I don’t need his eyes on me every moment, even if I do feel a spark when he looks at me with those dark pools of sex.
Butterflies fluttered deep in her belly and rose to fan the low fire in her chest into an uncomfortable flush.
The carriage leaned to the right as the slope of the ground changed, and his thigh brushed against hers. Heat burst through her left side, but didn’t stay there. The delectable and addictiveburn invaded her blood where it swam with great eagerness to the apex of her thighs, lodging like a deliciously heavy lodestone above her clit.
Pulling the reins, the duke brought the carriage to a stop. Turning his full menacing and heated gaze upon her, he growled, “It’s just over that rise.”
Realization dawned. He meant they were close to where they’d first met, which meant her bag was a few steps away. Impatient, she didn’t wait for him to help her; instead, she gathered her skirts, and jumped from the carriage in a rush.
Chapter Twenty
Alarmed by her sudden movements, Logan sprang into action.
With speed born of outrage and a smattering of fear, he grabbed her before she could run. He’d be damned if she tried to escape now that she’d become a slow-spreading poison in his blood. A poison that addled his mind, heated his skin, and made sweat bead along his neck. A poison that reduced the ability of his lungs to drag in air and caused the blood from his once-functioning brain to rush to his cock.
She gasped when his hand clamped around her arm, and he pulled her back into his overly responsive body.
Battling the liquid lust, he flinched when she shouted, “What the hell are you doing? Let me go!”
He didn’t.
“I don’t think so,” he growled.
By God, she smelled of chocolate. Leaning down, he inhaled the scent of decadence from the skin of her neck. Taking a slow breath, a tickle along his cheek bade him to turn his face into the soft, fragrant lushness of her hair. So black it was blue, it shone in the brilliance of the morning sun like an onyx. With his free hand, he ran his fingers over the skin of her arm, making hisway to the sleeve of her dress. He paused only a moment before placing his heated palm against the velvet skin of her neck. She shuddered.
The impossibly smooth skin warmed as he made slow circles with his thumb along the base of her head, right below her ear. A low, nearly imperceptible moan escaped her lush, pink lips. The sound carried a new wave of heat to his already tight groin.
