He reached her, looping his arms around her waist, then hauling her against his body. They were flush, her breasts crushed to his chest, her hips snugly fitted to his. He lowered his head so their faces were painfully close. She felt every part of him. Including the thick ridge of his manhood.
An answering heat slid through her, settling between her thighs.
“I am still at Abingdon Hall because Devereaux Winter’s bark is far worse than his bite.” He flashed her a wicked smile. “He hasn’t the ballocks to attempt to run me from here, for fear of the blood that would be shed.”
She swallowed. “Blood?”
Adele wanted to believe he would not harm anyone. That his words had been chosen to frighten.
But Dominic Winter was not the most feared man in London without reason. The lover who had touched her with such gentle skill was also a ruthless murderer and unrepentant criminal. A man who would kiss sweetly one moment and threaten to cut off a man’s hand and toes the next. He was the darkness. She was the light.
Persephone and Hades, that was what they were.
But Adele had no intention of allowing Hades to spirit her away. He could return to rule his underworld without her.
“I see your pretty mind spinning like the wheels on a carriage,” he said then, reaching out to run a lone finger down her forehead, as if he could smooth the furrow from her brow. “You are telling yourself I would never hurt the Winters, since we are family. You are wrong, however. I am a dangerous man, and I do not smile upon those who betray me or go against me.”
Those who betray me.
The warning sounded as if it had been made purely for her sake. “I did not betray you, Mr. Winter.”
The roughened pad of his forefinger traveled lower in the softest of touches, skimming along the bridge of her nose. “It is Dom, Duchess. And yes, you did.”
He was warning her. His presence in Oxfordshire—his presence within her chamber—it had all been cleverly calculated and planned. Adele suspected he was a man who did not settle upon a course lightly.
“How did I betray you?” she asked, gasping as his finger dipped lower, to her lips.
But still, he traced the outline of them, staying away from her seam, never once rubbing over her mouth itself. It was a careful game of avoidance he played. For a man who seemed so wild and unpredictable, his every move was executed with incredible deliberation. Every look, word, touch meantsomething.
“You lied to me, and you slipped away from my bed while I was sleeping.” His dark gaze was upon her lips.
They tingled, as if his stare was itself a touch.
She had to gird herself against this man’s mesmerizing power. Against his potent allure. He was not for her. Far better to flee, to find a situation in the country. A quiet cottage. To raise her babe far away from his dangerous world.
“We have been through this already,” she forced herself to say. “I never lied. I merely failed to correct your assumption. And as for leaving you whilst you slept, what else was I to have done? Remained forever? I had already put myself and my reputation in enough danger by going to you twice.”
“You lied about something else as well, Duchess.” His finger trailed down her throat, and then he slid his hand to cup her nape, the touch as soft as velvet. “You made me believe you were an experienced seductress instead of an innocent maid. You might have warned me, you know. I would have been gentler for your first time.”
His assertion took her by surprise. So, too, his caress. The hand at her nape was like a brand, burning her with wicked intent. She was falling beneath this man’s spell again. How did he do it?
She swallowed, wishing the desire unfurling within her could be dispelled. Wishing she could shake this most inconvenient attraction to him. What was wrong with her, wanting a criminal who threatened her brother with polished ease?
“I do not want to speak about what happened,” she forced out, stepping away from him, severing their contact.
She needed distance between them. An entire vast sea, if possible.
“We won’t talk about it then.” He pursued her, following her to the window at the opposite end of the chamber.
Wrong choice, Adele.
She ought to have gone toward the door, all the better to make her escape. Was jumping from the window a sensible option?
“You have no right to be in my chamber,” she countered as he flattened his palms on either side of her, trapping her.
Although the cold seeped through the windowpane at her back, Adele was aflame.
He lowered his head so their lips were disturbingly near once more. “I have every right. You are my future wife.”
