Page 37 of A Virgin for the Ton's Wolf

He had told her that he wanted her bent over any surface, and he had not been lying about that. But more than that, he was starting to want things he had no business wanting.

“Do not ask questions you would not like the answer to,” he replied tersely, turning towards her with a glare that he hoped was enough to make her back down.

But tenacity was her strongest trait, and he should have known that she would meet his glare with one of her own.

“Or what?” she challenged him, her chin lifted in defiance.

They were standing toe to toe. So close that he could see the slight flare of her nostrils. The black consuming the blue of her eyes.

Desire, thick and heavy, hung in the space between their breaths. A space that could easily be bridged with a kiss.

Hudson had never wanted a woman more than he wanted her at that moment. Night after night of dreaming of her limbs tangled with his, his name on her lips as she moaned. And then screamed.

Instead, he said nothing and pushed a cup of perfectly warm milk with a teaspoon of honey into her hands.

“Do not poke your nose where it doesn’t belong, little cat,” he warned her. “I hope you have a good night, My Lady.”

He gave her a curt nod and pushed past her, striding towards the door as quickly as his feet could carry him.

Because he was a coward, and Lady Scarlett Clarke posed an enormous threat to him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Hudson glowered at his friend from his seat across the parlor. If he could, he would have grabbed the man and hauled him bodily out of Wolverton Estate. Instead, he mentally added the Duke of Sin to the growing list of people he would very much like to see off his property.

Playing host had never been his strongest suit, but Ethan currently had his arm draped over the back of his wife’s chair, and he was playing with a lock of hair that had slipped from her chignon—the very picture of annoying wedded bliss.

If his friend had wanted more time with his wife, he should have stayed in his bedchambers and spared the rest of them this particular display.

Hudson looked at the other occupant of the room and found Scarlett gazing out the window. The sunlight, softened by a layer of clouds, had turned her red hair into a deep burgundy that invited a man to run his fingers through it. There was a slightflush on her cheeks and an uncharacteristic furrow in her brow, as if she was pondering over some mystery.

“Staying indoors the whole day is so boring,” he heard Ethan complain. “Why don’t we all go for a turn about the gardens? With the weather being the loveliest it has been in days, it would be a shame to spend the rest of it cooped up.”

Phoebe, the new Duchess of Sinclair, smiled up at her husband. “It is still a bit cloudy, but warm enough, I suppose.”

The bloodygardens. Could there be anything more trite?

Hudson did not relish the idea of getting caught out in the rain again, so he glowered at his friend. Harder.

Ethan merely smiled back.

“What do you think, Scarlett?” Phoebe asked. “Would you like a tour of the gardens as well?”

Please say no. Please say no. Please say no.

Hudson watched as Scarlett shrugged her delicate shoulders. How his vision focused so completely on that simple motion, he honestly had no idea.

“I suppose. I do not have anything better to do with my time.”

She could be helping their mothers plan the damned ball. She could take Snowdrop out for a walk. She could be doinganythingother than touring the gardens.

“Well, I suppose that means you are stuck with us for the moment, old friend.” Ethan smiled affably at him.

Hudson wanted nothing more than to punch his ‘old friend.’ Perhapsthatwould effectively wipe the damned smile off his face for the entire duration of his stay.

He gave a noncommittal grunt, and his fate was sealed. The Duchess of Sinclair would have to forgive him later—he was going to murder his friend.

Or at the very least, make him suffer well for that suggestion of his.

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