Scandalous Deception (Russian Connection 1)

With a rasping moan, Edmond buried his face in the curve of her neck, his mouth branding savage kisses against her damp skin.

“Tell me what you feel,” he demanded. “Tell me this is more than passion.”

“No.”

“Tell me, Brianna.” He thrust deeper, faster. “Tell me.”

“It is…just…” Her body bowed and she instinctively reached back to shove her fingers in his hair as the shattering bliss clutched at her body. “Lust.”

EDMOND LEANED AGAINST the mantle, sipping the tepid champagne and ignoring the speculative glances cast in his direction by Lord Milbank’s numerous guests. He knew they were simply curious at the presence of the elusive Duke of Huntley. Stefan so rarely attended these tedious functions, it was bound to stir excitement.

Especially considering he had arrived with a fiancée dangling upon his arm.

So far as he was concerned, they could gawk all they liked. There was nothing to be read on his mild expression. Years of experience had enabled him to master the skill of keeping even his most violent emotions concealed.

And his current emotions were most certainly violent.

Forcing himself to take another sip of the champagne, Edmond slid a brooding glance toward the woman who was entirely responsible for his foul temper.

Mon dieu. He should be utterly, blissfully satisfied.

Not only had he managed to fulfill his insistent desire for Brianna Quinn, but he had demonstrated to the aggravating, stubborn minx that she was incapable of resisting him.

That she belonged to him.

It had been proven with each tremble of her body, with the damp readiness she could

not disguise as he had penetrated her, and the soft cries of pleasure that he could still hear ringing in his ears.

So why, by God, did he desire to storm across the room and toss Brianna Quinn over his shoulder so he could haul her back to his town house?

Because while he had revealed that she was a willing slave to his passion, she had managed to keep her innermost self hidden behind her guarded barriers.

Damn the wench.

He was not quite certain why he should care. Brianna was nothing more than a pawn to be used in his hunt for his brother’s stalker, was she not? And if he was fortunate enough to have the use of her delectable body without the burden of worrying that she might complicate matters with her tedious emotions, well…so much the better, surely?

But it was not for the better. In fact, it was downright maddening.

She should believe herself hopelessly in love with him. Young maidens always confused lust with those ridiculous, tender, sentimental emotions. It was the greatest danger to any practiced rake. And why most wise gentlemen went to such an effort to avoid innocents.

But despite using his every seductive skill, some that would have made the most experienced woman weak in the knees, he had been unable to force her to admit that she felt more than mere passion.

The fact that she could keep herself emotionally aloof was like an aggravating thorn in his side he could not dislodge.

Seemingly unaware of his hooded gaze, Brianna moved among the guests with a remarkable ease. There were few who would ever be able to guess that she had lived such an isolated life with her mother. Or recall that she was in any way connected to a lout like Thomas Wade.

She possessed an innate sense of charm and genuine interest in others that easily allowed even the highest sticklers to forget her unfortunate connections.

And, of course, it did not hurt that she was currently engaged to one of England’s most powerful gentlemen.

She was busily endearing herself to Lady Roddick when Edmond grimaced at the sight of his aunt forging a determined path in his direction. There was no mistaking the ominous expression on her elderly face.

Halting at his side, Letty snapped her spangled fan open, practically quivering with disapproval.

“Well, I hope you are pleased with yourself.”

Edmond’s gaze was ruthlessly lured back to the autumn-haired wench across the crimson and ivory room.