Lady Ruthless - Scarlett Scott Page 0,22

“Of course I do not require your help.”

“As you wish.” He stalked to the door. “I will wait for you to dress. Do not try anything foolish, princess.”

She watched him go, determined to find a means of escape.

Chapter Six

You may find yourself wondering, dear reader, whether I ever thought about the lives I had so ruthlessly ended. The answer may well shock you, for I did not.

~from Confessions of a Sinful Earl

Sin’s first indication that something was amiss came in the form of Lady Calliope Manning’s grumbled curses.

The woman had a filthy mouth.

But of course, he already knew that, having read the drivel she had attempted to pin on him. The bit about the orgy had been most riveting, but now was not the time to reminisce.

The second indication arrived in the form of her squeal and the sound of rending fabric.

Bloody fucking hell.

What was the maddening creature doing now? He did not bother to knock. He threw open the door and was instantly greeted by the sight of the she-devil’s rump framed by the window casement. Her gown was torn, having been hooked on the hinges, and she looked as if she were about to jump.

He was not about to have her death upon his conscience. If the fool jumped, she would break her damned neck.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, crossing the chamber to where she dangled herself from the window.

“Getting away from you by the only means possible,” she retorted, but her voice was tense.

He did not miss the fear.

She was terrified.

And well she ought to be. There was nothing to break her fall below save a pair of decrepit Grecian urns.

He caught her around the waist and hauled her back into the chamber. “Plummeting to your imminent demise is more like. Have you no wits in that pretty head of yours? There is no way to descend to the ground below save jumping, and jumping from this height will only have one outcome.”

She was trembling in his arms as he pulled her away from the window. The skirt of her gown tore more as he shifted her, ripping a strip off it entirely. But he had hacked off one of her sleeves the day before, so the dress was already fit for the dustbin. The proof of her terror left him oddly shaken. And furious.

“Plummeting to my demise seemed a better fate than remaining trapped here with a madman,” she bit out, her hands clawing at his as the fight returned to her. “Release me, you oaf. You have ripped my gown.”

“You ripped it yourself with your ill-fated attempt at playing a bird,” he observed, spinning her about so they were face-to-face.

Her eyes were wide, framed by lashes that were impossibly long. “Return me to London, and I will not tell a soul what you have done.”

Did she truly believe she was the one who possessed the bargaining power between them?

His grip on her waist tightened. “I will return you to London after you have agreed to become my wife.”

“Then I suppose we shall both remain here for all eternity!” Her gaze flashed with defiant fire.

Even after almost falling to her death, she remained stubborn as ever. He supposed he ought not to be surprised. The woman had been fighting him at every turn. Clearly, his plan was going to require some additional effort. Spiriting her from London had not had the intended effect of forcing her hand.

Instead, she had been all the more determined to flee him.

Her bosom was heaving with her breaths. She was glorious in her ire, in her bravery. He could not deny it. Lady Calliope Manning was a ravishing creature. Infuriating. Wrongheaded. Vicious, too. But there was something about her that fanned the fires of desire within him into raging, blistering flames.

“Eternity is a long time to wait,” he told her with a calmness he little felt. “Too long for me to wait to secure a wife.”

“Find a different wife,” she spat, fighting him with renewed vigor.

“I would have,” he gritted from between clenched teeth. “You chased them all away with your lurid tales and heartless lies.”

That much was true, lest she had forgotten. She was the reason for this war.

But like earlier when they had been abed, her fight stirred the beast within him. Her spirited rebellion made his cock hard. Preposterous, especially since he detested her and what she had done. Nevertheless, it was true.

Her nostrils flared. “I would never have written those serials if you had

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