Page 9 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

"How noble of you," Elizabeth said dryly, gathering her courage. "Though I hardly expected fidelity from London's most notorious rake."

His eyes darkened at her words. "You speak quite boldly for someone who's spent her life hiding behind her sister's skirts."

The barb struck home, but Elizabeth lifted her chin defiantly. "And you speak quite confidently for someone who couldn't even keep his intended bride from fleeing."

In two long strides, Cecil closed the distance between them. "Careful, my dear wife," he murmured, his breath fanning against her cheek. "You might find that provoking me has...unexpected consequences."

"Is that a threat, my lord?" Elizabeth asked, proud that her voice remained steady despite their proximity.

"Cecil," he reminded her, one hand coming up to trace the line of her scar with surprising gentleness. "And no, not a threat. A promise."

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat at his touch. No one had ever dared to touch her scar before, let alone with such...curiosity.

"I have conditions of my own," she managed to say, stepping back to clear her head. "If you expect me to fulfill my...duties."

His laugh was low and dangerous cutting her mid sentence. "My darling wife, do you know about wifely duties?"

"I know exactly what my duties are," she retorted, though her pulse quickened at the heat in his gaze.

"Do you?" He moved closer again, backing her against the desk. "Plus And I've voluntarily pledged my fidelity to you . Are you prepared for what that means?"

He leaned closer still, his breath fanning against her ear. The heat of his body seemed to envelope her, and Elizabeth gripped the desk harder.A wolf indeed, she thought, and she was trapped in his lair.

Elizabeth's hands gripped the edge of the desk behind her, but she refused to look away from his intense gaze. "I'm not some innocent miss who faints at the mention of marital duties, my lord."

"Aren't you?" His voice dropped lower as he leaned in, placing his hands on the desk on either side of her, effectively caging her in. "Tell me, Elizabeth, have you ever felt desire? Real, consuming desire that makes you ache in places you've never even dared to think about?"

A flush crept up her neck, but she held her ground. "You seem very certain of your own appeal."

"I am." The corner of his mouth lifted in that devastating half-smile. "And I think you feel it too. Your pulse is racing." His eyes dropped to her throat, where her heartbeat betrayed her. "Your breathing has quickened."

His hand came to rest beside hers on the desk, his little finger just brushing against hers. Such a small point of contact, yet it sent sparks racing up her arm.

"That's merely irritation," she lied.

"Is it?" He bent his head, his lips barely brushing her ear. "Then perhaps you need a demonstration of what real desire feels like."

The heat of his breath against her skin sent shivers down her spine. "I didn't agree to be one of your conquests."

"No," he agreed, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. "You agreed to be my wife. And while I may be a rake, I take my vows seriously. For the next three months, you'll be the only woman in my bed—or against my desk, if you prefer."

The bold words made her gasp, which only seemed to amuse him further.

"You are absolutely insufferable," Elizabeth breathed, trying to ignore how her body responded to his proximity.

Cecil's eyes darkened with amusement. "And you, my dear, are far more passionate than you pretend to be. I wonder what other surprises you're hiding beneath that proper exterior."

"You'll never find out," she declared, though her voice lacked conviction.

He stepped back suddenly, leaving her feeling oddly bereft of his warmth. "Oh, I will. You see, desire isn't something you can control, Elizabeth." He walked to a cabinet and poured himself a glass of brandy. "It's a force of nature, like a storm at sea. You can try to resist, but eventually..."

"You seem very sure of yourself."

"I am." He took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving hers. "Within a month, you'll be begging for my touch. Within two, you'll be crying out my name in the dark. And by the time our three months are up..." He paused, letting the tension build. "Well, we'll see if you're so eager for me to leave then."

His fingers traced an invisible line down her neck, following the path of her scar, making her shiver despite herself. When she couldn't quite suppress a small gasp, his eyes darkened with satisfaction.

Elizabeth straightened her spine, gathering what remained of her dignity. "You overestimate your charms, my lord. I've spent years resisting the advances of men?—"

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