A Seduction in Scarlet (Aphrodite's Club 1)

“I was visiting my property in Norfolk,” he said anyway. “It is called Duval Hall.”

“Oh?” Now she was staring at her hands.

“I have hopes of making something of it. In time. The hall will need repairs—there’s an enormous glass window that has been broken…partially broken, anyway. I have arranged to have it repaired. And the farmland must be drained and reclaimed. Hard work, you might say, for a gentleman of leisure, but I’m willing to give it a go.”

And he laughed, because he was embarrassed and hopeful and longing for her approval.

She didn’t answer. Again he could see she wasn’t listening. His life was nothing to her. She moved among the highest in the land and he was but a younger son with few prospects. He might be a good lover—he was a good lover—but there was nothing more he could offer her, nothing more she wanted from him.

The realization chastened him. A lesser man would have stormed from the room or burst into tears. Marcus did neither. Instead he began to plot and plan how he could use the one thing she needed from him to win her over.

Her desire for his lover’s expertise had drawn her back to him several times already when she’d tried to end it. If he couldn’t win her with his prospects, then he’d bind her to him with his body.

With a self-mocking smile he left his chair and went down onto his knees before her. She jumped. She hadn’t expected him to do that. He reached for her hands and grasped them firmly in his, stopping her from rising. She was rigid. He understood then just how edgy she was in his presence, and how cleverly she had been hiding it. Beneath her mask she was awash with feelings.

Good.

“Marcus, I can’t—”

“I was nearly killed for your sake today,” he said, and watched her face pale. “I put my life at risk for yours. Some women might find that heroic, Portia, not to say erotic.

”

“I—I’m sorry for what happened to you,” she said in a low voice, looking into his eyes in such a frank and serious way he wanted to tumble her on the sofa. He resisted, for now.

“Are you?”

“They had no right to arrest you. I tried to tell them, but I couldn’t make myself heard. I don’t think they would have listened anyway. They were determined to turn you into an assassin.”

“I suppose I was lucky the equerries didn’t run me through with their swords.”

She shivered and her calm seemed to desert her. She drew one of her hands from his clasp and reached out, as if to smooth back a lock of his dark hair, before changing her mind and curling her fingers into a fist. She wanted to touch him but was denying herself the pleasure. Well, he would see about that.

“Why were you in Green Park?” she asked urgently. “I don’t understand how you came to be there.”

“I wanted to see you. Are you well? I cannot tell you how I felt when I saw you faint.” He rested his hand upon her knee.

Her breathing grew unsteady. “I—I was a little faint, but I am much better now. My…I took some laudanum, to help me sleep, and the effects lingered longer than I expected.” She shook her head impatiently, as if she wished she had never mentioned it.

“Why can’t you sleep?” he murmured. Whether intentionally or not, she had swayed closer, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her cheek, and then the corner of her mouth. She was trembling. His mouth hovered over hers, teasing, wanting her. “I can help you sleep,” he whispered, and boldly his hand slid up under her skirt.

At first, her gaze locked with his, she didn’t seem to know what he was doing. “It—It was an accident,” she said. “My mother gave me the laudanum. I don’t normally take it.”

She gasped and stiffened. His hand was gently brushing the side of her knee through her stocking, and she seemed to have only just realized it. Her eyes widened. He kissed her before she could think of protesting, and kept kissing her. She gave a sigh as he pressed her back into her chair. His hand was resting on the warm, smooth skin of her thigh now, and he felt her quiver, wanting him to touch her and at the same time afraid of losing control.

Poor Portia. It must be difficult for her in the circumstances, he thought, wanting to break with him forever and yet addicted to his touch. He smiled, nuzzling her cheek, her throat, before returning to her mouth.

His fingers found what they were seeking. She was moist and hot, and she moaned softly. He used his thumb on the eager little bud, sliding his fingers inside her. She melted around him.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I—I missed you,” she managed. There was a pink flush in her cheeks now and she was biting at her lip to stop herself from making the sort of sounds she usually made, in case someone heard her. “Someone will come, Marcus.”

“No one will come. Do you want me to stop?”

He began to remove his fingers.

“Oh, please, no…”