His mouth tilted into a sinful grin. “I give you leave to be inappropriate with me at any time you choose. In fact, I have always relished your moments of inappropriateness.”
“You have had a number of willing women who suited you just as well.”
“Never, my love. You have always been separate and apart from every other female.”
Elizabeth had met her share of scoundrels and rogues but always their slick confidence and overtly intimate manners left her unmoved. Marcus was so skilled at seducing women, he managed the appearance of utter sincerity. She’d once believed every declaration of adoration and devotion that had fallen from his lips. Even now, the way he looked at her with such fierce longing seemed so genuine she almost believed it.
He made her want to forget what kind of man he was—a heartless seducer. But her body would not let her forget. She felt feverish and faintly dizzy.
“Three years of mourning,” he said, with a faint note of bitterness. “I am relieved to see grief has not unduly ravaged your beauty. In fact, you are even more exquisite than when we were last together. You do recall that occasion, do you not?”
“Vaguely,” she lied. “I have not thought of it in many years.”
Wondering if he suspected her deception, she studied him as they changed partners. Marcus radiated an aura of sexual magnetism that was innate to him. The way he moved, the way he talked, the way he smelled—it all boasted of powerful energies and appetites. She sensed the barely leashed power he hid below the polished surface and she recollected how dangerous he was.
His voice poured over her with liquid heat as the steps of the minuet returned her to him. “I am wounded you are not more pleased to see me, especially when I braved this miserable event solely to be with you.”
“Ridiculous,” she scoffed. “You had no notion I would be here this evening. Whatever your purpose, please go about it and leave me in peace.”
His voice was alarmingly soft. “My purpose is you, Elizabeth.”
She stared a moment, her stomach churning with heightened unease. “If my brother sees us together he will be furious.”
The flare of Marcus’s nostrils made her wince. Once he and William had been the best of friends, but the end of her engagement had also brought about the demise of their friendship. Of all the things she regretted, that was paramount.
“What do you want?” she asked when he said nothing more.
“The fulfillment of your promise.”
“What promise?”
“Your skin against mine with nothing in between.”
“You’re mad.” She breathed heavily, shivering. Then her eyes narrowed. “Don’t toy with me. Consider all the women who have graced your sheets since we parted. I did you a good turn by releasing you to—”
Elizabeth gasped as his gloved hand spun about beneath hers and his fingers squeezed with crushing force.
With darkened gaze, he bit out, “You did a great many things to me when you broke your word. A good turn is not one of them.”
Shocked at his vehemence, she fought back. “You knew how I felt about fidelity, how strongly I desired it. You could never have been the type of husband I wanted.”
“I was exactly what you wanted, Elizabeth. You wanted me so badly it scared you away.”
“That’s not true! I am not afraid of you!”
“If you had any sense, you would be,” he muttered.
She would have retorted, but the steps of the dance led him away. He flashed a brilliant smile at the woman who minced steps around him and Elizabeth grit her teeth. For the rest of the dance he spoke not a word, even while he charmed every other woman he came into contact with.
Elizabeth’s hand burned from Marcus’s touch and her skin was flushed from the heat of his gaze. He’d never hidden the blatant sexuality of his nature. Instead he’d encouraged her to release her own. He’d offered her the best of both worlds—the respectability of her station and the passion of a man who could turn her blood to fire—and she’d believed he could make her happy.
How naive she’d been. With a family such as hers, she should have known better.
The moment the dance was over Elizabeth fled with rapid steps. A slightly raised hand caught her eye, and she smiled at the sight of Avery James. She cleared her thoughts, knowing immediately he was the man she awaited. Avery would only attend a social event such as this at Lord Eldridge’s behest.
Eldridge had assured her that as the widow of a trusted agent if she ever required anything she was only to ask. Avery had been assigned as the man for her to contact. Despite his cynically world-weary appearance, he was in fact a gentle and considerate man who had been indispensable to her in the first few months after Hawthorne’s death. The sight of him reminded her again of why she was here.
Elizabeth picked up her pace as, behind her, Marcus called out her name.