She had tenacity, Lady Calliope Manning. Sin would grant her that much. But she was also stubborn and foolish. And now, with his fingers wrapped around her sleek, pale throat, she gave away her fear. Her pulse beat a rapid staccato beneath his touch.
“Are you afraid, princess?”
He posed the question directly into her ear, and he had to admit, perverse bastard that he was, frightening her brought him pleasure. More pleasure than he would have imagined. Or perhaps it was not her fear but the feeling of her body pressed once more against his that had his cock at half-mast. Difficult to believe a woman he hated with all the fury of his black soul could also make his prick hard.
But when had he ever been a normal man?
Never.
His past sins were proof of that. The many women he had bedded. The wildness of his youth.
“Strangle me if you wish,” she said, her voice bold and brazen as you please.
Stubborn to the last. Had he expected any less? Ever since he had uncovered the true author of the memoirs which had ground his already dark reputation so far into the mud, it could never be retrieved, Sin had been studying her. Watching from afar. Planning. He knew she had her brother, the Duke of Westmorland, wrapped around her pinky finger. He knew she had all London on its knees for her.
Not many unwed ladies could return from Paris in a swirl of rumors and yet move freely amongst the crème de la crème of society. The famed painter Moreau was rumored to have been one of her lovers. A distasteful thought. When they married, she would have to wait until she provided Sin with an heir and spare before cuckolding him the way his last wife had done. But then, Celeste had proven herself a vengeful bitch with relative ease.
Suiting that he was about to bind himself to another woman who appeared to be cut from the same cloth.
“If I strangle you, darling, I cannot make you my wife,” he murmured, giving her throat a gentle squeeze.
Just one flex of his fingers. Nothing more. Nothing that would cause her pain. Contrary to what she believed of him, he had never harmed another, whether beast or man. He did not even enjoy the hunt.
She trembled beneath his touch. He felt her inhalations. Fast and shallow. She was afraid.
Good. Let her know some fear. Some desperation.
“I have told you, I will never marry you, and you cannot force me to do so,” she bit out.
“Fortunately for both of us, I will not require force.” He released her throat and stroked it.
She was soft and warm and feminine. He liked the way her skin felt beneath his questing fingertips. And despite his rage toward her, part of him had to acknowledge that bedding her would not be a chore.
What the devil was wrong with him? He ought not to be enjoying this in the way he was. Nor ought he to be enjoying her, his enemy.
How long had it been since he had last shagged a woman senseless? Too long. He had been attempting to win the prim Miss Mary Vandenberg and her American father’s fortune. He had been on his best behavior. But it would seem playing the saint was not good enough for Mr. Vandenberg when rumors of the murders his potential future son-in-law had committed were being bandied about London drawing rooms. Miss Vandenberg had cried off with all haste.
“I am already betrothed,” she bluffed then.
It was a futile ploy on her behalf. He knew everything there was to know about her.
“Lord Simon Montbatten,” he said calmly. “Difficult indeed to marry a dead man, is it not?”
Lord Simon had been of frail constitution. Two years ago, he had gone to Italy to aid his ailing lungs and take the waters. And he had never returned. From all accounts, Lady Calliope had been devastated by his death. Theirs had been a love match. Lord Simon had been the heir to Viscount Suttworth, an old title that hailed to the times of the Conqueror, much like the Dukes of Westmorland. The perfect dynastic union.
Lady Calliope stiffened, inhaling sharply. “How dare you?”
He stroked her pulse, reluctant to stop touching her. “How dare I speak truth?”
She resumed her struggles. “How dare you speak of him so callously? He was a wonderful man, a true gentleman. Your better in every way.”