Page 33
“Wait?” He crooked a hawkish eyebrow, a bland smile on his lips, though the humor failed to reach his eyes. His gaze shifted to her breasts.
Her nipples puckered against the gossamer fabric. Curse it. She reached to pull the filmy cloth away from her traitorous breasts.
A slow smile tilted the corners of his mouth.
Rotten knave.
Instead she angled her chin, straightened her shoulders, and folding her arms across her chest, plowed onward. “Well, yes, to become better acquainted before we—” She swallowed again as he purposefully spanned the distance separating them with measured steps. She stood her ground, though every instinct screamed for her to run.
Drawing a thick lock of hair across her shoulder, he idly toyed with the strand. With his other hand, he tilted her chin upward until her eyes grudgingly met his.
His were endless pools, and Vangie struggled to find a nuance of mercy or compassion within their fathomless depths. The look simmering there wasn’t reassuring or comforting in the least. He looked about to pounce and gobble her up.
Panther.
Sliding the hand cupping her chin to the back of her head, Ian held her immobile. His gaze sank to her parted mouth. Lowering his head, he brushed her lips, a feather-light wisp of a touch, with his. She stiffened but didn’t pull away.
He played with her mouth, gently caressing her lips with his warm, velvety ones. The sensation was unlike anything she’d dreamed. She relaxed, leaning into his solid chest and cautiously moved her lips against his. He tasted of brandy and mint. She breathed in his subtle scent.
“You’d deny your husband what you’ve freely given others, wife?” he whispered against her mouth. Though softly spoken, the bitterness in his tone belied any true tenderness.
Jolted back to awareness, Vangie stood mute. He hadn’t just said… No, she must be mistaken. She angled away from him, searching his cold eyes. “Pardon?”
“Come now, no need to be coy or to pretend false chastity.” He cupped her buttocks, holding her to his solid length and grinding his hips suggestively. “We both know you’ve none.”
Making an inarticulate sound in her throat, Vangie went rigid, as rage unlike any she’d ever experienced engulfed her. Incredulous, horror streaking through her, she shoved him away. She took a faltering step backward, her arms extended as if to ward off a demonic spirit. Stunned, voice shaking, she said, “Are you implying I’ve been intimate with another?”
“No, sweeting, no such thing,” he taunted coolly. “You’ve not limited yourself to one man. I’m not pleased, but as long as you’re as generous with me…”
The injustice infuriated her. She’d been forced into marriage with a man who thought her a harlot. Hands fisted, Vangie ground between clenched teeth, “You bostaris! How dare you?”
“Come now.” His hot gaze took in the shadows her gown didn’t hide. “Why the false affront? Everyone knows what a tart you are.”
The loud smack of her fist connecting with Ian’s injured cheek echoed ominously in the room.
