“I am sure of nothing when it comes to Baron of Milton.” She reached for Annabelle’s hand and crushed it in her own. “Promise me you will not anger or displease him, for he can be most cruel, Bella. Most.”
“Oh, Lizzie!” Annabelle flung her arms about Elizabeth. “Then I shall murder him, I shall. Like the heroine in your last play, I will dispatch him with my sword when I cleave his chest in two.” Her arms rose to stab the bedclothes most dramatically.
Elizabeth’s voice choked. Her sister was prone to histrionics, but to come to her defense in such a childish manner … Sweet Bella stood no chance against the Baron.
“I fear not even your fine acting can save me from my fate, sister. No one can.”
At ten to one Milton stepped over the crushed remains of yet another of his costly bouquets and rapped the knocker on his betrothed’s townhouse thrice. The same disreputable footman from yesterday let him in without a word. He merely pointed Milton in the direction of the stairs, which he took two to a step, wrenching open the door to Elizabeth’s bedroom to find her at her toilette, arranging her hair.
“Miss Winthrop,” he announced.
She ignored his entrance and simply pulled a curl close about her neck, then with a snort of displeasure, knotted a silk scarf there instead.
“The curls suit you better. Remove the scarf.”
“Go to hell.” She finally acknowledged his presence.
Milton cooled his temper and his raging cockstand. He hadn’t expected to be so affected by the smooth slope of her neck. He swallowed his lust, muttering, “Let us try this again.Remove the scarf, Elizabeth, as I should like the world to know you are mine.”
She launched from her chair to attack him with her fists, pummeling his chest with a vehemence that, surprisingly, hurt.
Milton captured her wrists, holding her taut against his racing heart. “You have forgotten your very first lesson, Lizzie.” He let his tongue trace the shell of one elfin earlobe. “Which is that I do notlike to be crossed.”
“I said,go to hell,” she repeated, beginning to struggle in his grip.
“Hmm,” he mused. “It would seem you have forgotten allyour previous lessons. Pity.” He took a step back but kept firm hold of her wrists. “Your second lesson learned, Lizzie, remind me, which rule is that?”
“You never stated rules,sir.” She was breathing so fast he could not help but again notice her bosom.
He should not have.
“I did not think they needed spelling out. I thought you astute enough to glean them for yourself.”
Her glare became a glower.
“Must I demonstrate them anew?”
“Rule two: do not be late.Sir,” she spat.
“You do recall them, good. And lessons three and four, Elizabeth, if you would?”
“Do not goad, or touch you,Baron.”
“Your memory serves you well. It seems only your execution of said lessons needs adjusting.” He pushed her up against a bedpost, blocking her with his body, then released the scarf from about her neck before he loosened his own cravat.
***
Elizabeth felt blindsided. Not only had this blackguard just tied her to her bedpost, he’d shoved his necktie in her mouth, rendering her mute. That any man should truss and muzzle her like an animal was barbaric!
“Better, I think.” He stepped back to survey her. “There comes a time when a man and his wife—or rather, soon-to-be man and wife—must settle matters between them. I believe our time has come, Elizabeth.”
In vain she struggled against her restraints, rattling the bedpost just like the lady in her story.Could this be happening?
“It is day five of our acquaintance, yet you continue to try my patience. Deliberately.”
She chewed his necktie like a horse champing at its bit.
“I admire your spirit, Lizzie, truly I do. It is what appealed to me the day we met, for you shall need that fighting nature when you face society’s judgment as my wife. But between us—before me, your husband—it is not defiance I desire. It is acquiescence and compliance.”
