“You’ll pay for this, Cuthbert!”
“Yes, Yer Grace.”
Wells could ‘hear’ his steward’s smile clear through the closed door.
“Shall I have a tray brought up, or would you and the gel prefer t’ dine downstairs?”
Wells swore beneath his breath. “A tray, damn you, and drink.”
“O’ course, Yer Grace.”
Disappearing footsteps let him know his man had left.
His mistress, meanwhile, had frozen beneath him. Wells removed his body from her, grumbling to himself the day had been ruined by one too many fools and telling her she may as well get dressed. “Wouldn’t want you looking indecent once dinner arrives,” he muttered.
She quickly slipped back into his waistcoat and began rebuttoning the front while he let out a loud sigh, watching her. “Am I never to have the pleasure of debauching you, Charles?”
Her mouth pinched. “I daresay you are trying, my lord.”
“And I daresay you appear now almost willing.”
“I have little choice, my lord.”
“There is no shame in becoming my mistress, woman.”
“So you repeatedly tell me,Your Grace.”
“Then why do you not accept it?” he lashed out. It was one thing when Cuthbert abused the title, but her blatant disrespect crossed a very clear line.
“Why must I accept anything you tell me?” she fired back. “Am I not free in mind, if no longer free in body? You may command my obedience, Lord Wellesley, but you cannot command my thoughts, or my soul.”
He stared at her a moment. “What are you, a revolutionary?”
“No, I am well read.”
“Rousseau, eh?”
“And Locke and Hume and?—”
“Damn it, woman, I don’t want a clever mistress, I want a warm body is all!”
“Then you’ve the wrong woman, my lord, and I suggest you find another!”
He pushed her back to the bed so fast he loomed above her, bearing down. “There isn’t another woman here now but you, Charles, and as I’ve bedded no woman since leaving London, you will do my bidding, and you willkeep your mouth shut.”
She glared at him in silence, eyes fierce, provoking in him only greater lust this time, for he wanted her right then and there, dinner be damned, and shockingly, he wanted her to want him just as much.
“Cat got your tongue at last?” he taunted.
For answer, she spat directly in his face.
Wells was stunned a beat to feel wet spittle slide down his face but quickly came to his senses as he gripped her throat. “Do that again and I’ll whip you myself,” he hissed before releasing her.
She gasped for air as he rose from the bed to wipe his face on his sleeve, enraged. “You forget who I am, miss.” His teasing mood was suddenly dry tinder. “You have offended one too many times.”
He remained impervious to the alarm writ large on her face. “Forgive me, my lord.” She bowed her head, the words barely a whisper.
“I can’t hear you,” he goaded, his temple beginning to throb.
