Page 29 of My Rogue, My Ruin
Archer wanted that man to be the marauder, not the marquess. He wanted her eyes to glow with the tempestuous fire he’d seen on the lane. He wanted her to know exactly who had given her those rubies lying like glowing embers against her breast. They looked as he had expected they would. Dazzling. Seductive. Everything his fevered imagination had conjured and more. Archer wanted to see her in nothing but those rubies. The scintillating thought made his throat—and loins—clench.
He took a desperate swallow of his drink, banishing the provocative thought of Briannon’s deliciously naked body from his mind. But Archer knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had worn the rubies and that bewitching dress for a reason. She had come here to be the seducer, and he wanted her to know without question thathewas the man she’d come here to tempt.
“Looking for someone?” he taunted, following the path of her gaze. “A lover perhaps?”
“I beg your pardon?” Briannon’s mouth shaped the words, her transparent hazel eyes narrowed with a mixture of emotions. Archer was transfixed at how each one—shock, injury, outrage—made her eyes a shade greener each time, until they were snapping with vivid color.
“Why you vile, ill-mannered—”
Several couples on the dance floor craned their necks to get a better look. Without warning, Archer moved swiftly, taking Briannon by the arm, and led her out the pair of nearby doors to a private balcony.
“Release me,” she said. “I wish to return to my brother.”
“In a minute,” Archer said, keeping a firm grip on her elbow as he steered her farther out of sight, beyond the curious stares. “Briannon—”
She reared back as if his fingers were snakes. “Don’t you dare address me in such a familiar matter, you vile—”
“You called me that already,” Archer said with a smile. He had no doubt she could be more creative with her insults.
“Don’t patronize me. Why have you brought me out here after insulting me so?”
“No lover, then?” Archer’s stare fell lower to the daring décolletage of the dress. A becoming flush stole across her skin, her breasts heaving beneath the glittering tier of gems.
“Are you quite finished?”
He stepped toward her, and she took a step backward. Archer wanted nothing more than to provoke her into dropping that fake, haughty stare, and to do so, he had to risk inciting her wrath. “Then whom did you wear this for? This intoxicating dress? Although I can’t quite decide whether I prefer you in men’s breeches or women’s fashions designed to make men lose their fortunes…and their common sense.”
Briannon’s mouth opened and closed in shocked surprise. He knew he was being vulgar and insulting, but once he had started, Archer couldn’t stop himself from goading her. He wanted to punish her for not knowing it was he who had gifted her the rubies, not some stupid fop. He was irrationally jealous of a fictional bandit that he himself had invented. The entire situation was ludicrous, but he continued as if compelled by inner demons he hadn’t the slightest control over.
“Or perhaps the answer lies in wearing nothing at all,” he said, vaulting a mocking eyebrow. Her slap cracked across his face so sharply that the sound echoed into the night.Damn.He hadn’t even seen her hand coming. The stinging feel of it seared his cheek and brought him back to reality. Archer stared at her, tears shining in her eyes, and he felt sudden regret. What was he doing, baiting her like an overeager bull straight out of the gates? The minx would drive him to madness if he’d let her—she was absinthe in his blood.
But he ruled his emotions…they did not rule him. Archer drew a deep, calming breath. “My apologies, Lady Briannon,” he said in a controlled voice. “Please allow me to escort you back inside.”
“I don’t want you escorting me anywhere!” Her voice raised into a stifled shriek, the sheen of tears replaced by vitriolic rage. “You’re a…you’re unspeakable. How dare you insult me in such a manner? No wonder everyone avoids you like the plague!” She backed away, and as if drawn by an attached string, Archer followed the movement. “All the young ladies think you are uncouth and ruthless, and they’re right!”
Archer took another involuntary step forward. It eliminated the gap between them. Briannon’s hands grasped the stone balustrade that rested against her back. Her eyes grew into wide green orbs at his proximity.
“Are they?” he said softly.
Trapped and unable to flee, she fought, her sharp tongue as effective as any blade. “Yes…it’s no wonder you can’t find a wife. No respectable woman in her right mind would have you! You’re…you are…appalling.”
Archer did the one thing he could to silence her tirade. He kissed her.
It was a mistake. The soft contact of her warm lips was his undoing. His mouth slanted on hers, teasing that infuriating lower lip with the point of his tongue as he had wanted to do for days. Tension trembled over her mouth, and he wanted only to release it. To open her to him. But he did not simply want to be the aggressor and make her bend to him—he wanted her towanthis kiss. He relented slightly, putting a hair’s breadth of space between them.
Briannon’s hands pressed against his dinner jacket as she stared up at him. Shock clouded her expression, but something else simmered there, too. Archer read it clearly.Desire.
He slipped his hand around her waist and drew her closer, capturing both hands between their bodies. Her fingers tightened compulsively, winding into the material as if she knew what was coming…as if she, too, craved it. He could feel her pulse racing, see the fire kindling in her eyes. Here was the response he’d sought all night.
Archer’s mouth dipped to brush her cheek with deliberate slowness. “Is this so unspeakable to you?” he said, drawing his free hand down the curve of her jaw. Her skin was pure silk, his fingers skimming the line of her chin and neck, and dropping to where the necklace rested against her heaving chest. “Do you despise me so much that my very touch makes your body shiver with loathing?”
A twinge of regret—for her uncensored words perhaps—crossed her face for a moment. But then she hiked her chin and stared at him with those wide eyes sparking defiance, her lip quivering. She was not afraid of him, he knew. No, this girl was not afraid of anything.
Grasping the rubies in one hand, his knuckles grazed the tops of her breasts. Archer groaned low in his throat at the tantalizing feel of her flesh. God, he had no idea what he was doing. He had vowed to stay away from her, and yet here he was, doing the exact opposite. But once more, Archer couldn’t help himself. He wanted to see what else she was hiding, what other passions she kept under strict rein. Archer wanted to lay all her secrets bare.
“Or perhaps you shiver with want, instead,” he murmured.
Archer could feel her entire body tremble as his free hand slipped around her nape, tilting her chin up to his. She did not shy away. His eyes met hers, her pulse leaping wildly under his fingers. Despite her innocence, he could see the curiosity blooming in her eyes and feel her heart thudding against his through the layers of superfine and satin. Archer wanted more than anything to satisfy it.
