Page 44 of Loving a Beast of a Marquess
As he spoke, he trailed one hand up her legs, over her dress, to the apex of her thighs where that need soaked her. She made another inarticulate noise as he pressed with two fingers, the simple pressure sending a rush of pleasure through her.
“Please,” she moaned.
“Oh, but I wasn’t done.” His voice and hands were wicked now, though the hard edge of anger hadn’t abated. “Because once I’ve prepared you with my fingers, I would finally be able to enter you with something else.” For emphasis, he rubbed that hard length against her once more. “And oh, the sweet sounds you would make. I would claim you as you deserve to be claimed, love you as you deserve to be loved.” He looked down at her, still pressing his fingers against that sensitive nub, his other hand still holding her breast. “Is that what you want, Evangeline?”
“I want you,” she managed, breathless, hardly able to form a sentence past the distracting pleasure of his circling fingers. “I came here because I want you, and I—”
His fingers stopped. “Did you think I would take you though you intend to accept another man?”
She blinked, trying to formulate her thoughts. “I wanted to spend this last morning with you,” she said.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
In truth, Evangeline didn’t know what she wanted. She had come here because she wanted him because she wanted to share this last moment with him.
Instead, her body throbbed with frustrated want as he stepped away from her.
“It appears neither of us gets what we want,” he said. “I shall see you later, no doubt, at the game of Pall Mall.”
“You intend to go?”
“But of course.” He gave a bitter smile. “Where better to see you with your future husband?”
ChapterEighteen
Zachary burst into his bedchamber and hurled a vase at the wall. It shattered, the porcelain pieces spearing the carpet, and he slammed a fist against the door.
Even now, he could see Evangeline looking up at him, lips parted, eyes heavy with desire. She wanted him—even now, on the cusp of accepting another man, she wanted him, and it wasn’t enough.
His body still ached for her. He wasn’t sure how he had kept from ravishing her there and then as she’d moaned under his touch at the idea of what he wanted to do to her. She’dwantedit, and he’d wanted to give in more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
Damn it.
Yet she was about to marry Riffy. His friend. Although he could hardly see Riffy as a friend now, after a betrayal of this magnitude. Never mind Riffy could not have known of his feelings for Evangeline; the connection should have been enough to warn his friend away.
Rage burned in his gut. More than wanting to take her—he’d wanted her eyes to widen as she realized he would be the only man to ever take her for the first time. That she was offering her virginity to a man who would never marry her.
That it may well destroy her marriage before it began.
That was why he needed to leave. If he had remained, if he had given into the temptation to take her in that way, he would have destroyed her future.
He could not allow himself to do that.
But there was no denying this fury that consumed him at the idea she would marry someone else. That she might desire him, but she would never love him because he was a monster who pinned her to the wall and treated her roughly when she deserved kindness.
Damn it.
He knew the situation. He knew she had always intended on marrying quickly before the truth of the situation came out. If he had been sensible, he would have prepared his heart for this eventuality.
He kicked at the remnants of the vase, panting, sense swallowed by the enormity of what had happened. He’d lost her. He’d never had her—not really—but he’d lost her all the same. And he had committed to spending the day at this damn garden party and game of Pall Mall.
It would be intolerable, but once it was over, he would leave. Back to the country, perhaps; he still had his estate, after all, and he could retreat there to lick his wounds until he was confident he could see Evangeline without wanting her as desperately as he did now.
The house awoke around him, but Zachary remained in his bedchamber, pacing and muttering to himself, attempting to assuage his temper. Trapped alone with his thoughts, he was unable to do anything but feed his rage, with the result that by the time the picnic was announced, he was in the blackest mood he’d been in since his father’s death.
* * *
Lady Pevton had invited few to their game, preferring, as she called it, ‘a rather more intimate affair’. From that, Zachary was able to infer she knew about the offer of marriage—indeed, there was little chance they could have hidden it considering Percy likely asked her permission—and from the beaming looks she bestowed on Percy, it was clear she approved of the match.
