Baron of Blasphemy (Lords of Scandal 12)

“Chad,” she gasped, trying to step away. He held her in place. Irritation rumbled along her skin. When he’d carried her off, he’d said she’d have choices. In what precisely? Rubbing her head was one thing but disrobing her…

“We’ll be married tomorrow or the next day. I’ll become intimately acquainted with every garment you have.”

“I seriously doubt that.” She turned then, looking up into his face. Had she been vulnerable a few minutes ago? She’d take the silence now.

“As your husband—”

She crossed her arms. “You said I’d set the parameters. I’m not sharing a bed with you prior to our marriage.”

He’d been reaching to continue undoing her buttons, but his hand dropped again, his face tightening. “There is only one bed.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m sure there are other beds in the house.”

He narrowed his gaze. “I’m trying to keep you safe, you know that, don’t you?”

“I am also attempting to keep me safe.” She gave him a stern look. “Which means you should not be in my bed until after we’re married.”

“Turn around,” he grunted. “You can’t sleep in that dress.”

The change in strategy took her by surprise. “A maid could…”

“The maids were not expecting a lady to arrive late in the evening. They are all in bed. And while we could wake them, I am here now.”

“Oh,” she whispered. “That is a good point.” She pivoted then, presenting her back to him. She didn’t have a choice.

“I know this is moving quickly.” He started on the buttons again. His fingers brushed her back, making her shiver.

Abigail pressed her lips together to keep from gasping as she attempted to slow her heart. She had to resist him. She could feel her control around him slipping. If she weren’t careful, he’d kiss and compliment her into oblivion. And though he was to be her husband, he was also still a rake.

She’d fall in love and he’d hold his heart away from her. He’d said as much in the carriage. And then where would she be? She’d love him and she’d be powerless to change anything. He’d be in charge of her as she was held hostage by her feelings. Would that make her feel worthy? She doubted it.

And then she grimaced. Because in many ways, the situation reminded her of, well, her mother. While Abigail loved her father dearly, her mother had been the one always home, available while her father came and went as he pleased. Gone for months on end, her mother must have been lonely. Her father had held all the choice. And her mother had been lonely. “This isn’t quick. This is ridiculous.”

He chuckled behind her as the bodice of her dress slumped forward. Ignoring the heat in her cheeks, she began removing the sleeves even as he worked on the strings of her corset. “So. I’m to sleep on the floor then?”

She looked back over her shoulder at him even as he brushed his hand down the length of her hair. “If you think it best.”

He lifted a brow as he stared at her. “I’m fairly certain you think it best.”

She ignored the tendrils of pleasure his fingers in her hair and on her skin caused as her corset loosened. “All of society thinks it’s best.”

He laughed again and then reached back for a pillow and a blanket.

Abigail walked behind the screen in the room, removing her skirt, and shoes, and stockings before she moved back into the room to dive into the bed.

But what she saw stopped her dead in her tracks. Chad wore nothing but his breeches as he stretched, his muscular chest rippling in a way that made her mouth dry and her skin feel hot. He was gloriously masculine.

She was in so much trouble.

* * *

Chad watched her skid to a stop and suppressed a crow of victory. She’d noticed him.

They were playing a game of cat and mouse. She’d allow him close and then she’d dart away again.

He didn’t blame her. Any woman in her situation had every right to hold a man like him at arm’s length. Once she was his wife, of course, that would change.

Even the idea of slipping into bed with her filled him with longing and he found his manhood thickening. A bit awkward since she was a tender virgin, and he had no way to hide the evidence of his desire. He was shirtless and his breeches were rather fitted.