What had he done to her?
Moreover, why had she allowed it?
Worse still, why had she wanted it, wanted him, and so desperately?
“We are not finished, Miss Sutton,” the viscount said, a hint of warning in his tone.
She inhaled slowly, trying to calm herself and regain her inner sense of calm. She felt as if she had been aboard a storm-tossed vessel for weeks, and now she had been suddenly delivered to a cloudless shore, expected to forget everything which had come to pass before.
“We are indeed finished, Lord Lordly, if we had ever begun,” she managed, careful to keep her voice cool.
She had no wish for him to understand just how deeply he had affected her. Or just how badly she desired him, how her heart was racing faster than the hooves of a galloping stallion, how her body still hungered for his touch and her lips thrummed with the memory of his upon them.
“You are wrong, madam.” He spoke just as coolly, his countenance implacable, as if he had not just been speaking to her with such delicious lewdness, touching her as if it were his right, kissing her as if he would die if he did not have another taste of her lips. “We are quite far from finished. But this is hardly the time or the place for what must come to pass. How did you find your way in here?”
The knowledge felt quite dear. If he wanted it, she would withhold the information.
“I walked,” she said, not bothering to hide her insolence.
The walls between them had crumbled some time ago, and there was nary a chance of them being erected again. He may well be the heir to a duke, and he could look down his aristocratic nose at her all he liked, but he desired her as a woman, and that knowledge in itself was every bit as powerful as his position in London society, for she could use it to her advantage quite well.
He clenched his jaw. “Naturally. I had supposed you may have sprouted wings and flown, but I must express my most humble gratitude to you for disabusing me of my false suppositions.”
He certainly spoke in riddles and rhymes, but he was plainly attempting to offer her a sally. The gesture was so unexpected that she hesitated in her response.
A bit too long.
His hand clamped on her elbow. Not in a bruising grip, but in one that told her he would not release her without a fight. And after what had just happened between them, waging war was hardly likely. At least on her behalf. One could scarcely tell what was happening behind those eerie blue eyes of Lord Lordly’s.
“I hardly think we can leave this establishment with you clinging to my elbow,” she pointed out wryly. “The tongues you have no wish to give cause for wagging will be racing instead.”
“There is more than one entrance to The Duke’s Bastard,” he said, his gaze flicking over her face in a seeking fashion, “as you are undoubtedly aware. We shall take our withdrawal through one of those.”
How like a member of the quality to suppose the men and women circulating in the service quarters would be too busy toiling at their various positions to take note of a lord hauling another gentleman from the club by his elbow.
“Once again, your utter arrogance astounds, Lord Lordly,” she drawled, taking a small amount of pleasure from the manner in which he flinched at her use of the insulting title she had fashioned just for him.
Just as well.
Who did he think he was, kissing her as he had? Saying such wicked things to her, unbuttoning the fall of her trousers, insinuating his well-muscled thigh between her legs?
“It is confidence, Miss Sutton,” he corrected, raising a dark brow, “not arrogance. The difference is easily distinguished, should one concern one’s self with looking.”
She pursed her lips. “Naturally, I do not tax myself where you are concerned. Why should it matter?”
He inclined his head. “Why indeed? Nonetheless, I insist you accompany me. There is much that needs to be discussed between the two of us.”
She frowned. “I find no such need.”
Lord Lordly smiled, showing neat, even teeth.
He had the smile and charm of a sinner and the reputation of a saint. Which one was he, she wondered? But then, the answer was abundantly obvious, was it not?
“Come with me, Miss Sutton, and I shall elaborate.”
It was not truly an invitation. Rather, it was a warning laced with the pretensions of an arrogant lord and the suggestion he knew more of Aidan’s whereabouts than he had initially suggested.
Her interest was piqued. “Very well, Lord Lordly,” she allowed. “I will accompany you. But it’ll be on my terms, not yours.”
She did not wait for him to have the last word before she gave him her back and left the chamber.