Page 16 of Unraveled By the Duke
Alexander found himself admiring her in this excited state. Her gloriously pale, feminine cheeks were flushed, and her eyes flashed with a savage anger that harkened back to her Saxonancestors. Her lips were parted, and he fancied that a finger to her throat would reveal a racing pulse. Her heaving breasts showed it clearly enough.
“I am the daughter of an earl, and though I have made mistakes, I am an honorable woman. My husband may have power over me, but you, by your own admission, have no interest in being my master. Only a husband in name. Well, that kind of husband does not get to order me or command me. You are clearly not enough of a man to master me anyway.”
She reached for the door of the carriage, turning the handle even though the vehicle was still moving.
Alexander reached for the handle to keep the door shut, his hand clamping down on hers. Their eyes met. Blue eyes, hard as a winter’s sky, and brown, deeper than a fathomless mere.
They were inches apart. Her scent drove him to distraction. Maintaining a sharp edge of anger was hard when his mind was addled with that scent. When his eyes were unable to stop drinking in the glorious, ferocious beauty of her face and body.
“Let me go. You clearly have no desire to marry me. I will not go from my father’s prison to yours,” Celia demanded.
“I cannot,” Alexander whispered. “The scandal would destroy us both.”
“I do not care,” Celia huffed.
But Alexander could see that she did. She tried to hide it, to bury it beneath outrage and anger, but she was failing. The chinks in her armor were there to see. But how to break them apart?
Celia looked away, and Alexander wondered if she were trying to hide from him. He took her chin in the crook of his finger, turning her head to face him. She resisted at first and then jerked her head around, her eyes blazing through unshed tears.
Alexander’s finger lingered, the tip touching her jaw. The feel of her soft, perfect skin was magnetic. He did not want to withdraw his hand, to end the sensation. His eyes roamed over her face, drinking her in.
Celia’s eyes widened for a moment, and then she pressed her lips to his.
The kiss was unexpected and, in contrast to the last time, was initiated by her. Alexander was instantly lost in a world of tantalizing sensation and sensuality.
Her lips were soft but pressed hard against his own. She nipped his lips, and when he opened his mouth, her tongue darted in. His hand fell from the door handle to cup her face, and then, freed from his grip, she opened the door.
Alexander watched in astonishment as she stepped down onto the runner just as the carriage began to speed up, freed of the congestion of London’s busiest thoroughfares as it turned towards Somers Town and Pentonville. She skipped a few steps as she stepped off onto the road, easily balancing.
As she reached the pavement, she looked back with a smile that had shades of triumph in it.
She kissed me to trick me into letting her go. And she had the gall to challenge my ability to master her!
Driven by an impulse to prove her wrong, Alexander propelled himself from the carriage. As his feet hit the ground, he had to dart quickly for the pavement to avoid getting hit by a carriage racing in the opposite direction.
Celia darted away, picking up her skirts. She wove between a handful of pedestrians walking to and from the small group of shops that served the residents of Somers Town until she reached the gate of a church. Then, she stepped through while looking over her shoulder at her pursuer.
Alexander gave chase, snatching his hat from his head and breaking into a run that attracted attention from those around him. He didn’t care.
He followed her through the yard of St James’ Roman Catholic church, the famous Polygon rising beyond the far wall. That building rose from a forest of newer housing, but around the other side of the church were fields and woods, so far beyond the reach of the metropolis.
Celia was making for a gate in the wall on that side, and Alexander put on a spurt of speed to intercept her.
He caught her by the arm as he reached her, stepping in front of her. She was breathing hard, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes bright. The church door opened, and a figure clothed in black stepped out, peering in their direction. Alexander dragged Celia under the cover of a copse of willows around a small pond, brushing aside the drooping branches to step beneath.
“Do not run away from me,” he panted.
“I won’t be a prisoner,” she retorted.
“Then don’t be. Do as you will. But we will be married.”
“Make me then,” Celia hissed.
Alexander’s control snapped. He whirled, snatching her up by the waist and pressing her against the trunk of the willow. He kissed her, and she did not resist. Instead, her hands tangled in his hair, pulling so that his head was forced back and her mouth could fasten upon his throat.
He clutched her body hard against his, trapping her between the rigid demands of his manhood and the ancient hardness of the tree.
“You are the most maddening man,” Celia breathed.
