Obviously, she’d miscalculated the lengths Marcus would go to to achieve his ends.
He nodded curtly in greeting. “Mr. Stanton.”
“Lord Westfield.” George looked to Elizabeth with a frown.
“Lady Clara, may I present to you Mr. George Stanton?” Marcus asked. “Stanton, the lovely Lady Clara.”
George collected Clara’s hand and bowed. “A pleasure.”
Before Elizabeth could guess his intent, Marcus had reached for her. “An excellent pairing,” Marcus said. “Lady Hawthorne and I, being de trop, shall leave you two to finish the set.”
Tucking her hand firmly around his arm, he pulled her toward the open doors that led to the garden.
Elizabeth offered an apologetic smile over her shoulder, while inside, her heart leapt at the primitive display. “What are you about?”
“I thought that would be obvious. I’m causing a scene. You goaded me into this course of action by avoiding me the last sennight.”
“I have not been avoiding you,” she protested. “I’ve yet to receive another demand for the journal, therefore there was no reason to see you.”
Exiting to the balcony, they found several guests enjoying the cool night air. Held so closely to his side, the sheer force of Marcus’s presence once again surprised her.
“Your behavior is atrocious,” she muttered.
“You may insult me at your leisure when we are alone.”
Alone. A ripple of awareness brushed across her skin.
His gaze traveled over her face and searched her eyes. His own narrowed and though she tried to discern his thoughts his handsome features were set in stone. As they took the stairs into the garden, his pace quickened. She followed breathlessly, wondering what he meant to do, what he meant to say, startled to discover an unknown remnant of girlish romanticism thrilling at his determination.
Tucking her into a small alcove off the bottom of the staircase, Marcus eyed their surroundings carefully. Seeing they were alone, he moved swiftly. With gentle fingertips, he lifted her chin.
A kiss, she thought too late as his mouth covered hers. Then she couldn’t think at all.
His lips were unbelievably gentle as they melded with hers but the sensations they elicited were brutal in their intensity. Elizabeth could not move, arrested by the powerful response of her body to his. Only their lips touched. A simple step backward would have broken the contact but she could not manage even that. She stood frozen, her senses reeling from the taste and scent of him, every nerve firing to life at his bold advance.
“Kiss me back,” he growled, his fingers circling her wrists.
“No . . .” She tried to turn her head away.
Cursing, he took her mouth again. He did not kiss her sweetly as he had a moment before. This was an assault driven by bitterness so sharp she could taste it. His head tilted slightly, deepening the kiss, and then his tongue thrust forcefully between her parted lips. The depth of his ardor frightened her, and then fear flared into something far more powerful.
Hawthorne had never kissed her like this. This was more than just the joining of lips. It was a declaration of possession, of unquenchable need, a need Marcus built within her until she could no longer deny it. With a whimper, Elizabeth surrendered, tentatively touching her tongue to his, desperate for the intoxicating taste of him.
He growled his approval, the erotically charged sound causing her to sway unsteadily on her feet. Releasing her wrists, he supported her waist while a warm hand gripped the back of her neck, holding her still for his ravishment. His mouth moved skillfully over hers, rewarding her response with deeper flicks of his tongue. Her fists clutched his coat, pulling and tugging, trying to win some control but in the end unable to do more than just take what he gave her.
Finally he tore his mouth away with a tortured groan and buried his face in her perfumed hair. “Elizabeth.” His voice was thick and unsteady. “We must find a bed. Now.”
She gasped out a laugh. “This is madness.”
“It has always been madness.”
“You must stay away.”
“I have. Four bloody years. I’ve paid the price for my imagined sins.” He pulled back and stared down at her with eyes so hot they burned. “I’ve waited long enough to have you. I refuse to wait any longer.”
The reminder of their past was sobering for both of them. “There is far too much between us to ever enjoy a liaison.”
“I damn well intend to enjoy one regardless.”
Shaking, she pulled back and, to her surprise, was released immediately. She pressed her fingers to her kiss-swollen lips. “I do not want the pain you bring. I do not want you.”
“You lie,” he said harshly. His finger traced the edge of her bodice. “You have wanted me since the moment we met. You want me still, I can taste it.”
Elizabeth cursed her traitorous body, still so enamored of him it refused to listen to the dictates of her mind. Hot and aching all over, she was no better than any of the other besotted women who fell so easily into his bed. She backed away, but was stopped by the cold marble railing. Reaching behind her, she wrapped her hands around the baluster, gripping it so tightly the blood left her hands.
“If you had any care for me at all you would leave me be.”
Flashing a smile that stopped her heart, Marcus stepped toward her. “I will show you the same care you once showed to me.” His gaze smoldered with seductive challenge. “Give in to your desire for me, sweet. I assure you, doing so will not be something you regret.”
“How can you say that? Have you not already wounded me once? Knowing how I feel about my father, you still acted as you did. I loathe men of your ilk. It’s despicable to promise love and devotion to bed a woman only to cast her aside when you weary of the sport.”
Marcus stopped abruptly. “It was I who was cast aside.”
Elizabeth backed up tighter against the railing. “For good reason.”
His lips twisted in a cynical smile. “You will receive me when I come to call, Elizabeth. You will drive out with me in the afternoons and accompany me to events such as these. I will not be turned away again.”
The cold marble baluster froze her hands through her gloves and sent shivers up her arms. Despite the chill she felt hot, flushed. “Are you not satisfied with the numbers of women who fawn over you?”
“No,” he replied with his habitual arrogance. “Satisfaction will come when you burn for me, when I invade your every thought and every dream. One day your infatuation will be so consuming that every breath you take apart from me will sear your lungs. You will give me whatever I desire, whenever and however I desire it.”
“I will give you nothing!”
“You will give me everything.” He closed the small gap between them. “You will yield all to me.”
“Have you no shame?” Tears welled and clung to her lashes. He was implacable and the direness of her situation struck home with cruel effect. “After what you did to me, must you seduce me as well? Is my utter destruction the only thing that will appease you?”
“Damn you.” His head dropped down to hers, his mouth brushing across her lips in a feather-light kiss. “I never thought to have you,” he breathed. “I never expected that you would ever be free of your marriage, but you are. And I will have what was promised to me long ago.”
Releasing the baluster, Elizabeth placed her hands against his waist to ward him off. The firm ridges of his stomach beneath her palms brought a raw, sweet ache to her body. “I will fight you with everything I have. I urge you to desist.”
“Not until I have what I want.”
“Leave her alone, Westfield.”
Sagging with relief at the sound of the familiar voice, Elizabeth glanced up and saw William descending the staircase.
Marcus backed away with a vicious curse. Straightening, he shot his old friend a fulminating glare. Elizabeth exploited his distraction, taking the opportunity to slip past him. Running into the garden, she di
sappeared around a corner of yew hedges. He stepped forward, determined to go after her.
“I wouldn’t,” William said with soft menace, “If I were you.”
“Your timing is unfortunate, Barclay.” Marcus swallowed a growl of frustration, knowing his old friend would relish any opportunity to fight with him. The situation worsened as spectators, alerted by the carrying tone of angry voices and the rigid set of William’s body, lined the edge of the balcony anticipating noteworthy gossip.