Page 24 of A Lady's Lesson in Scandal
Drake leaned against the couch, his hand flew back to the scar, his forefinger tracing the jagged rip across his cheek. Icy eyes sparked with something she couldn’t decipher. ‘How magnanimous of you, Miss Millicent.’
‘Thank you.’ But the warm bubble of satisfaction burst as Major General Drake’s lip curled into a cold smile.
Buggering blast.
He wasn’t going to make this easy. She knew it.
‘You asked me on the night of our engagement why I was offering for you, but we were interrupted before I could answer. I shall do so now. I’m marrying you not because I am an honourable man but rather because I am decidedly dishonourable.’
Millie frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Allow me to explain. I don’t care if you wish to be a single woman or one of ill repute. Your poorly planned escape from Viscount Tread created a situation that works to my benefit. I am in need of a wife. I was contemplating the arduous task of finding one when your fumbling attempt at seduction on the terrace solved my dilemma.’
Millie broke into laughter. ‘Surely you jest, sir.’
‘Rarely,’ Drake replied, his gaze still lingering on her mouth. ‘I’m going to ask you several questions, Millicent. I expect you to give me honest answers. Can you do that?’
Arrogant, pompous ass!
His tone begged for a blistering response. Millicent let the anger bloom. ‘I can do many things, my lord. Most of them better than you, I’d wager.’
His lips twitched. ‘I can only hope.’ Like a coin being flipped, his countenance shifted. Any levity fled as his ice-blue eyes hardened. ‘Do you find me abhorrent, Millicent?’
Millie huffed out a surprised breath. ‘What kind of question is that?’
‘The kind that needs an honest answer. Please.’ His rough voice hitched.
‘I find you…’ Millie paused. He asked for honesty. She would give it to him. ‘I find you fascinating.’
He froze, his gaze flicking back to her lips. ‘Monsters can fascinate people.’
‘So can mythical heroes. You are neither. Just a man. Yet still, I find you singularly captivating. That doesn’t mean I wish to marry you.’
Drake grunted, his finger once again finding the scar on his cheek. ‘My scars, they are far worse than what you see here.’ He leaned closer, running his fingers over the slash dividing his face. It was a fearsome wound, but Millicent found it did nothing to detract from Drake’s masculine appeal. ‘Some women have found them to be… less than desirable.’ He broke eye contact for a moment, and Millicent was staggered.
Dear God. He’s insecure. This powerful, dangerous, mysterious man is uncertain.
‘Some women have the intelligence of wet dough, Major General Drake. I am not one of those women.’ It became of paramount importance for Millie to make him understand that she was not rejecting him. Having suffered such injurious behaviour herself at the hands of St George, she would never wish to inflict such wounds upon another person, even one as insufferable as Major General Drake. She was rejecting an asinine offer brought forth by some ridiculously misguided sense of honour. ‘Releasing you from this engagement has nothing to do with your appeal and everything to do with my own desire to be free.’
He picked up her hand, placing it against his ruined cheek. The vulnerability in his gaze almost broke her. ‘I’ll know if you’re lying.’
Millie leaned closer. The scent of leather and cloves wrapped around her like a blanket. She was no stranger to desire, but the overwhelming tenderness coalescing with her need was unexpected and alarming. She shivered at the sensation of his warm skin beneath her hand. His stubble scraped over hersensitive fingers, contrasting the smooth scar tissue. Acting on instinct, she turned his head and pressed a kiss to his temple where the injury began. The room was so quiet. Their breaths created the only sound. Slowly, she moved along the scar, marvelling at how it changed beneath her lips, smooth in spots, rigid in others. She followed its course, pressing kisses to his eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, and finally, his cheek.
‘We all carry scars, my lord. Yours do nothing to diminish your desirability. Am I lying?’ she whispered in his ear.
Drake moved faster than she could countenance. One moment, she was leaning toward him, pressing chaste kisses over his scar. The next, she was lying on the couch, two hundred pounds of hot, hard, hungry man hovering over her. Her back screamed in protest, but she ignored it with brutal focus.
‘You are playing with fire, madame,’ Drake growled.
Millie thrust her chin up, refusing to back down from the challenge he presented. ‘I am not scared of you, Major General Drake.’
‘I wish I could say the same.’ He spoke the words like a curse, then fell upon her like a savage.
This was no mere kiss. This was an assault on her senses. His firm mouth crushed against hers, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. She should pull back, push him away, demand distance. But Millie was never good at doing what she should. Instead, she opened her mouth, granting him access. He stroked and teased until she mimicked his movements, testing the texture of his lips, teeth, and tongue. He nibbled along her jaw, nipping and sucking. She writhed beneath him, needing more. When his fingers tickled along the neckline of her modest day dress, she longed to be free of the constricting material.
Dear God. It’s glorious.
Her hurried coupling with St George was nothing compared to this incendiary exploration. She had no intention of marrying the man, but would it be so unforgivably wicked to explore this attraction?
