A Rake's Midnight Kiss (Sons of Sin 2)

He raised one hand to display what he held. “This one?”

In the lamps, Lord Neville’s smile was smug. Black terror jammed Genevieve’s throat. It didn’t matter that she’d known Lord Neville all her life. It didn’t matter that he had never hurt her. She needed to get out of this carriage. Now.

“Stop,” she said breathlessly, snatching for the door handle. “I’d like to return to the vicarage with my father and aunt.”

“Too late.” He snapped the fragile fan in two and tossed it to the floor.

She started at the sharp crack. “We’ve hardly gone ten feet.”

Not even the most optimistic listener could dismiss the menace in his soft chuckle. The carriage swayed as it gained speed. “Ten feet too far, my love.”

“I’m not your love.” Her heart beat so fast, she felt dizzy.

Hand trembling, she shoved the door and felt it give. She lurched to her feet, fighting for balance against the rocking vehicle. Jumping was risky, but right now she’d rather take her chances with Sedgemoor’s immaculate drive than his lordship.

The door opened a few inches before Lord Neville grabbed the edge and slammed it shut. “No, no, no, Genevieve.” He caught her wrist in a brutal grip. “I have plans for tonight, and you breaking your neck in some melodramatic fit isn’t on the agenda.”

Gasping, she struggled to pull free. “My lord, you’re scaring me.”

He laughed again. She wished he wouldn’t. “You’ve led me a pretty dance, but you must have known you’d end up marrying me.”

Ignoring her resistance, he bundled her back into her seat, then squeezed beside her. His bulk crushed her, bruising her.

“I don’t want to marry anyone.”

He captured her other hand. “Of course you do.”

She strove to sound calm, reasonable. To appeal to whatever goodness lurked in his heart. Although right now, she had a sick feeling that Christopher had been right all along about Lord Neville.

“Stop this nonsense.” Injecting iron into her demand was difficult when her heart fluttered against her ribs like a frantic bird. “You’ve had your little joke.”

“There’s no joke, my dear. Tonight I’ll have your maidenhead. Tomorrow we’ll post the banns.”

Choking horror made speaking painful. “Do what you like, I won’t marry you.”

“A ruined vicar’s daughter in a small village faces a bleak future. Especially when the man in question is eager to redeem her sin with marriage.”

“Marriage to you means a bleak future.”

Of course he didn’t listen. He never listened. “You were born for me.”

Her false composure crumbled under an avalanche of terror. She tried to kick him, but her legs twisted to the side and she couldn’t gain any purchase. “No, I wasn’t.”

She lunged for the door, but he caught her and hauled her across his knees. When she tried to strike him, he wrapped his arms around her, trapping her against his barrel-like chest. She’d never felt so physically overwhelmed. His musky odor suffocated her. She opened her mouth and screamed.

“None of that,” Lord Neville said negligently and slapped her face.

Agony exploded through her head. “How dare you?”

“And how dare you?” Past the ringing in her ears, she heard him inhale. “How dare you cavort with that bastard Evans? How dare you flutter your eyelashes and push up your bosom and whisper with him in corners?”

His seething anger made her belly cramp with dread. “I didn’t.”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her so hard that her head whacked the wall. “Has he had you?”

“Let me go.” Her fists battered his chest, but it was like trying to dislodge a mountain. She raked her nails down his cheek.

“Bloody hell! You cat!” He seized her flailing hands and used his weight to force her into the corner, driving the air from her lungs. Fighting blackness, she screamed until he crashed his mouth into hers.