The Marquess Who Loved Me - By Sara Ramsey Page 0,15
she accepted him because he had inherited a title. But if he was careful, he could have her again without getting his heart involved.
Just as he decided to kiss her senseless, perhaps take her hard and fast against the wall as he’d dreamed of any number of times — perhaps ignore his revenge until morning — she pulled back.
“Nick…I can’t.”
All those years ago, kissing her amongst the blackberries, he was the one who had stopped first, too cautious for her sake to risk more than a kiss. She wanted him just as badly now as she had wanted him then — perhaps more, now that she knew exactly the pleasure that their kisses would lead to. But even though her body screamed for him, her voice broke. He could kiss her again, try to coax her…
Her eyes, though, stopped him cold. He had never seen her cry before — not when they had started their secret engagement, and certainly not when she had thrown him over for his cousin. But the tears were there now, threatening to spill over her lashes, turning her blue eyes into fathomless pools.
This wasn’t his plan. The Ellie he knew wouldn’t come undone over a mere kiss. He wanted her tears — or thought he did. But he wanted to wring them from her in a way that left no doubt he’d won.
She blinked furiously. All her armor slammed down over her like a prison gate. When she looked at him again, the tears had turned to glaciers.
She walked toward the door, saying nothing as she reached for it. He caught her in two strides and slapped his palm against the wood.
“I’m not done,” he said.
She stiffened her shoulders. In a different mood he might have admired how she turned to face him. Another woman would have fainted, or at least cried, at the menace in his tone. But Ellie didn’t flinch.
“Your actions over the past decade say you’re done,” she said. “Why else would you have stayed in India all this time? Unless you knew you couldn’t see me without changing your mind?”
He couldn’t answer that. She reached up to stroke his face. Not a greedy, full-palmed caress — more a whisper, one fingertip trailing down the line of his jaw. Her nail scraped against his skin, and he shuddered.
“Why are you not done, Nick?” she asked. Her hand dropped to his chest, unerringly flattening against the rapid crescendo of his heart. “Have you come back for me?”
Yes. His heart screamed yes. Did her skin soak in that scream? Did her blood carry it to her heart, her mouth, her soul?
His heart screamed yes.
But his mouth and soul were liars.
“I’ve come back to take what you owe me.”
She dropped her eyes to his chest, to where her hand curled into a fist before falling away. Her mouth tightened — confused that his words contradicted what she felt?
“What do you think I owe you? If you want an apology, I’ll give it,” she said.
Her voice was soft but resolute. Ellie would apologize, just as she had apologized the first time she’d broken their engagement. But when he had found out who she would marry and came back to dissuade her — she hadn’t apologized then.
Even if she did now, even if he could believe an apology from her, it wouldn’t be enough.
Only revenge would be enough.
“You owe me more than an apology. You can pay me on your back, or on your knees — but you’ll start tonight.”
CHAPTER SIX
She almost wished he’d slapped her. A bruise would fade. But those words, cruel and implacable, would run endlessly through her dreams.
She sucked in a breath. His heart had beat for her. She was sure of it. But his eyes denied it. That brutal look was back. His mouth — the mouth that kissed her like he’d never left her — was an uncompromising line, a weapon he would use to eviscerate her.
Ellie forced her fists to open, forced herself to settle back onto her heels. She’d come to her toes as though the added height could help her. The darkness in his voice told her to run. But the images already playing in her mind, the memories of all the ways they had loved each other back when she had thought that love conquered all, made her heart race and her palms dampen.
As revenges went, there were worse fates in the world than sharing a bed with Nick.
Still, she’d pleased and placated men before, and always,