Page 14 of Loving a Beast of a Marquess
“You are trapped here with me, and no one knows about it.” He leaned forward still further until he was inches from her. Her lips tingled with the ghost of a kiss she absolutely shouldnotbe remembering at such an inconvenient time. “Remember, Evangeline, there are consequences to all actions.”
All except ones taken on dark nights with strangers who knew not your name. Of all encounters with gentlemen, she had preferred that one. At leasthehad a hold on his temper even if he was drunk.
“What are to be my consequences?” she asked, defiant, half sure he was going to kiss her. Certain—certain—she did not want him to. Except her heart pounded down past the hand holding her wrist to the wall, and her stomach twisted in anticipation, and her lips parted with a tiny gasp.
His gaze dipped to her mouth, and she was certain—so certain—he was going to kiss her there and then. So certain, in fact, she held her breath.
He released her hand. “Leave me the shovel,” he said curtly, holding out one hand. “As for your consequences—be assured there will be some. You will pay for your insubordination.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said before she could help herself.
Another eyebrow rose. “Then you are the first,” he said. “Do not test my patience again.”
Half unable to believe her luck, her stomach in knots over what had—and had almost—happened, Evangeline slipped from the room and hurried downstairs into the drawing room. Whatever consequences her father’s heir could dream up, she was certain she wanted none of them. If he had just kissed her, they would have been fair. Even. He could have done nothing more to get her back because he would already have done so.
She huffed impatiently as she calmed herself, tried and failed to wipe a sooty smear from her dress, and entered the drawing room. Whatever happened, she couldn’t let her aunt or sister know of what had occurred. They would not approve of her methods, and they’d be positively terrified of whatever the Marquess would do next.
Evangeline was not terrified. In fact, if anything, she was intrigued. Let the Marquess show his true colors; let him reveal to her what he was capable of. She would match his every blow, and he would see she was not an opponent to be scoffed at.
She was stronger than he would ever give her credit for.
* * *
Zachary was not entirely sure what he was playing at.
The nerve of the girl was one thing—a thing worth being angry at. In fact, as he crawled across the floor, coal shovel in hand, and attempted to remove the toad from under his bed, the anger growled in his stomach all over again. She was a mere chit, trying to scare him away.
And yet…he had almost kissed her.
Not just because she was there, pressed against the wall, her soft body utterly helpless under his own, her chest rising and falling with every quick, panicked breath. That had done little to provoke him.
No, it had been the way she’d looked at him. As though she’d examined every feature and found it wanting. She had been so very enticing when she’d done that, her mouth pressing together ever so slightly, her eyes hooded and curious but devoid of fear. That had been what had caught him.
Zachary was accustomed to being feared. Being disliked was part of the package and being feared—there were few outside the family who were unafraid. Fewer still who were female. Evangeline, daughter of the Duke of Wellton, was one such lady.
And for a moment, he had desired her more than he had desired any woman—save perhaps the lady in the gardens who had kissed him back with such feeling. Seeing Evangeline had brought back echoes of that want, and when she had looked at him with such challenge as if she knew his intentions and was daring him to carry them out, he had almost lost every iota of self-control.
Even now, instead of forcing her to catch this damned toad, he was crawling about on his hands and knees, doing it himself. He was, in a way he could not explain even to himself, protecting her and her foolish schoolyard actions. A quick, tight smile crossed his face as he replayed her indignant expression in his mind when he had accused her sabotage of being ‘schoolboy’. As though she had considered herself well above such lowly levels, despite the fact she had just attempted to put a toad between his sheets.
She was resourceful, he’d give her that. And she didn’t give up. Two admirable qualities if they weren’t aimed so negatively toward him. Yet, for some reason, he didn’t despise her for it. He could understand her actions, and…
Well. An image of her blue eyes and chestnut hair flashed into his mind. He was only a man, after all, and no matter how irritating he found her, clearly, his body’s response was not to berate her.
He groaned as he resumed his hunt for the elusive toad. The last thing he needed was a distraction. It would be easier if she hated him, and he her. Luckily, that was an area he was particularly adept in.
ChapterSeven
Once news had spread of the Marquess setting up in the Wellton’s home, fewer suitors made the journey to visit Evangeline and Emily. On the one hand, Evangeline could not be sorry; she had little to no interest in any, and the thought of marrying them was downright repulsive.
On the other hand, sooner or later the Marquess would discover her father’s death and assume responsibility for them if they were not married. Evangeline hoped to be married before then.
Mr. Linfield was the gentleman upon which her hopes were pinned. Not because she had any real interest toward the young man—he was, indeed, little more than a boy—but because he was the only suitor she thought she could have a halfway decent life with. He had no interest in her and was only pursuing her because his mother wanted him to; if they were to marry, they could live wholly separate lives.
“Surely you cannot be serious,” Emily said. She had been similarly unlucky so far with her options for husband, but she was still holding out gilded hope of a man riding up on a noble steed and carrying her away. Failing that, she had a noted soft spot for a certain Mr. Trimly.“You are hoping to marry him because you will not have to do any marital duties?”
“What martial duties are you looking forward to, Em? Sitting on the arm of an old man all your life?” Evangeline sighed and looked around the familiar confines of her bedchamber. “I have not yet broached the topic with Mr. Linfield, but you know his mother is eager for him to marry into the family.”
“All mothers are eager for their sons to marry into the family,” Emily said calmly.
