Scandalous Deception. Rosemary Rogers
enjoyed the delights of hundreds of women, far more fully than with her. Why would a few meaningless moments alter his desire to be rid of her?
“You’ve…had your pleasure, surely that has earned me a few days?” she retorted, sharply.
Without warning, Brianna discovered herself flat on her back with Edmond’s heavy body pinning her to the mattress. She swallowed a groan as he grasped her hands and tugged them over her head, his mouth skimming down the length of her neck in a path of searing fire.
“So long as you are near, I will want you. And if you do not flee, I will be your lover,” he muttered, exploring the line of her gaping neckline. “Mon dieu. Perhaps it is already too late for flight.”
“Edmond…” The words became choked in her throat as his mouth found the tip of her breast through her chemise. “Oh.”
Brianna closed her eyes as her entire body jerked in response. Was this heaven? She had never dreamed such exquisite sensations existed. It was enough to steal the wits of even the most intelligent woman.
His tongue circled her sensitive nipple, drawing low moans from deep in her throat. At the same time, his leg was pressing between hers to part them wide enough for him to settle his hips between her thighs.
Brianna gasped as her chemise was bunched around her hips and the feel of his hair-roughened legs brushed against her. Then, he settled even deeper and the hard thrust of his arousal pressed at the sensitive flesh between her legs.
Oh, this was…wicked. And wondrous. And so amazingly dangerous.
Edmond sucked in a sharp breath, as if he were as shocked by the violent jolt of pleasure as she.
“Damn you,” he breathed, his eyes a stormy blue that spoke of his tumultuous emotions.
Uncertain why he was angered, Brianna parted her lips to demand an explanation only to have the words halted as a sharp rap on the door made them both freeze in shock.
“Sir,” a muffled voice echoed through the door.
“Go away, Boris,” Edmond snarled, his fierce gaze never wavering from her wide eyes.
“We have an intruder,” the servant retorted.
“Get rid of them,” Edmond commanded, his tone promising severe retribution for the interruption.
“It is Miss Quinn’s stepfather,” Boris insisted. “He has threatened to call for the constable if he is not allowed to see his daughter.”
“Dear lord,” Brianna breathed, stark fear clenching her heart. “How has he found me so swiftly? How has he found me at all?”
Muttering what she assumed were foul Russian curses, Edmond lifted himself from the bed and roughly tied the belt of his robe.
“Get dressed.”
“No. I will not go back to him.” Scrambling off the bed, Brianna pressed herself against the wall, shaking her head in horror. “I will throw myself out the window, I swear it.”
“It is too early for such theatrics, ma souris,” he drawled, all hint of passion replaced with a shimmering fury. “Get dressed and come downstairs.”
“Do you intend to hand me over to him?”
“Either that or I will toss you out the window myself.” His gaze ran a grudging path down her slender body barely hidden by the thin chemise. “You are a complication I do not want and do not need.”
“If you do this, all of London will know that you are not Stefan,” she warned. “You seem to forget that I have a note revealing your true identity written and prepared to be sent to the Times.”
A smile twisted his lips. “Your maid has been locked in her chamber, with no possibility of escape until I decide to release her. And since I doubt you have had the opportunity to actually deliver a note to anyone else from the time you left the ball until you forced your way into my home, I feel fairly confident that my secret is safe.”
Her own ready temper flared. “You are a…a coldhearted bastard. How you could possibly be related to Stefan defies imagination.”
With pathetic ease, he grasped her chin and tilted her face upward. His lips covered hers in a raw, demanding kiss.
“Get dressed and come downstairs,” he commanded against her lips. “Boris will wait for you. If you try to run, I will order him to tie and gag you and haul you downstairs.”
Without waiting for her reply, he crossed the room and yanked open the door. He spoke briefly with the looming giant waiting in the hall before turning to send one last warning glance as he shut the door in her face.
EDMOND WAS LIVID AS HE returned to his bedchambers and forced himself to prepare for his unwelcome guest.
He barely noticed as his valet shaved him in well-trained silence and styled his hair in the manner his brother preferred, although he did rouse himself enough to choose a fitted jacket in a Cambridge blue that was matched with a blue and silver waistcoat. He also took personal charge of the linen cravat that he tied in an intricate mathematical knot.
Still, his thoughts remained consumed with Miss Brianna Quinn. Damnation. The woman threatened to ruin everything. First with her blatant threats to expose his identity, and now by dragging her troubles into his home.
In a mood that boded ill for Thomas Wade, Edmond made his way down to the front anteroom where the intruder had been left to cool his heels. He paused in the doorway to study the large man with the thick, florid features and heavy jowls of his ancestors. Despite being properly attired in a dark jacket and white waistcoat, Wade still looked more a butcher than a gentleman as he uncomfortably perched on the edge of a delicate Louis XIV chair.
Another wave of murderous fury raced through Edmond at the mere thought of the man’s hands on Brianna, his fat, disgusting body heaving above her. Damn, he’d see Thomas Wade at the bottom of the Thames first.
At last realizing he was no longer alone, Wade surged to his feet, his small eyes glittering with a hard anger.
“About time you decided to make an appearance, Huntley,” he growled, his accent still hinting of his humble origins. “You are fortunate I am a patient man, otherwise you would have had the constables on your doorstep.”
Stepping across the threshold, Edmond allowed his gaze to flick over the man in silent condemnation.
“You are a fool if you believe that any constable would darken the doorstep of a Duke.”
Wade curled his hands into tight fists at Edmond’s cool, taunting words.
“So you believe you are above the law?”
“Yes, actually I do.” Edmond casually strolled closer to Wade, inwardly judging the considerable bulk of his opponent. Perhaps in his youth Thomas Wade might have been capable of holding his own against Edmond, but now he was soft and flabby from years of self-indulgence. He was no more than a bully who hoped to intimidate others with his sheer size. “But that is not the point. If anyone is breaking the law it is you, Wade. By what right do you force your way into my home?”
“The right of any father to retrieve his only daughter.”
Edmond narrowed his gaze. “And what makes you so certain that she is here?”
“I have my means.”
Moving so swiftly that the older man had no opportunity to react, Edmond had Thomas slammed against the wall, his forearm pressed to the thick throat.
“I asked you a question,” he said, his soft, lethal voice making Wade pale in fear.
“What the hell do you think you are doing, Huntley?”
Edmond pressed his arm harder against the man’s throat. “I asked you a question.”
Wade made a choked sound as he struggled