Page 84 of The Highlander Is All That

But then Twiggy had appeared and claimed her.

They had danced around the ballroom and taken a promenade and then had the obligatory lemonade and Elizabeth had thought her trail had ended. But when her next dance partner arrived and cried off—apparently Blackworth had stubbed his toe or some such nonsense—Twiggenberry claimed her again.

It was tantamount to a declaration, two dances in a row, but Elizabeth didn’t much care. He could declare all he wanted. Tonight she was handing him his congé. So to speak.

What she didn’t expect was having the blackheart whirl her off the dance floor, down a hallway, and into the deserted library.

The fact that it was deserted was enough to concern her.

But then there was his expression.

“My lord. We should not be in here alone,” she said.

She headed back to the door, but he caught her arm. “Shouldn’t we?”

Oh. She didn’t care for the look in his eye in the least. “Please let me go.”

“Never.” The zealous trill of his voice frightened her and she tried to pull away. His fingers tightened painfully. And then—horrors—he yanked her into his arms. She fell against his chest with an inelegant oof.

But that was only the beginning. Because then, with a reptilian smile, he smashed his mouth against hers.

She very nearly retched again, but saved her energy for fighting him.

Sadly he was stronger, and clutched her tighter, and deepened the kiss.

And then, to her absolute horror, he grabbed her breast.

* * *

Hamish sprinted down the hall after Elizabeth, peering quickly into the open door of a salon filled with tittering partygoers. No. Not there.

Then he saw Twiggenberry’s tailcoats disappear into the next room, and he bolted after him.

He flung open the door and his hackles rose.

Twiggenberry had Elizabeth in his arms and though she was clearly fighting him, he wouldn’t let her go.

Unable to stop himself, Hamish issued a feral growl that resonated on the air.

Twiggenberry lifted his head. Elizabeth gasped for breath.

Hamish opened his mouth to bellow something—probably something foul—but before he could, a triumphant voice sounded from behind them. “I say, Twiggy! I do believe you are thoroughly compromised.”

Hamish whirled around to see Blackworth, Lady Jersey, and a coterie of the ton’s haughtiest patronesses standing with him in the hall and looking on. That Moncrieff and McCloud were among them didn’t help. Something acidic swirled in his belly. The hair on the nape of his neck rose. His hands closed to fists. He turned back to Twiggenberry, who looked far too smug for this to have been anything but a setup.

Blackworth chortled. “Well, Twiggy. You’ll have to marry her now.”

To which Elizabeth fainted.

And the bastard didn’t even catch her.

Chapter Seventeen

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing for it. You are going to have to marry him.”

Elizabeth ignored her aunt. She would much rather stare out the window onto the street before the Moncrieff ducal mansion. It was so pretty out there, with the streetlights glinting off the puddles. The lights were deliciously blurred.

Behind her, in this small sitting room, was hell.