Ruthless - By Anne Stuart Page 0,14

afraid of Veronique.”

“She’s not the woman I think you should worry about,” Reading murmured. And a moment later the door slid shut, leaving them in cocooning darkness once more.

Rohan looked down at her. “You see, my dove. There are creatures far more terrifying than rats who wander these corridors.”

“You’re known as the King of Hell, Monsieur le Comte,” she said. “What else would I expect from your guests?”

He laughed softly, but she had the sense she’d annoyed him. “Next time you wish to call me names you might consider what I’ve saved you from. Veronique is not very nice to girls—she is one who takes pleasure from hurting people, where most of the whores simply fake their distress.”

“I’m ever so grateful,” she said with cloying sweetness.

“Of course you are, love. Unfortunately I desire that you show your gratitude before I release you. Just a small token is all that’s needed.”

“I beg your pardon?” she said in an icy voice.

They’d reached what appeared to be a blank wall. The rest of the corridor disappeared into darkness, and there were no embarrassing animal sounds. He moved, and suddenly she felt her body pressed up against the wall, quite firmly, his hands on her arms. And then a moment later, before she realized what he intended, he moved closer, his tall body covering hers in shadows, and all she could do was feel him, hip to hip, his chest against hers, his heart, slow and lazy against her racing one, as he filled all her senses, and she was drowning.

Endure, she reminded herself, and closed her eyes, holding very still. He moved his head down, to the spot at the base of her neck, and she felt his mouth, his teeth, just the lightest of bites against her skin, and she quivered. Endure, she reminded herself again, trying to breathe normally. He was much too strong to fight.

His body held her still, and he released her arms to slide his hands up, the fingers stroking the pulse at her neck that was racing so wildly. “Ah, child,” he murmured. “If only you’d been lying.”

A second later he pulled back, no longer touching her, and she knew she should run. And run she would, as soon as her senses regained their proper order.

“I…I do not lie, monsieur.” The stammer was faint, and she couldn’t help it. Those few seconds in the darkness had been…overwhelming.

“Alas, you don’t,” he said. “I had hoped you were more like your dear mother. That you’d seized upon this opportunity to find a protector, as Lady Caroline was prone to do. But appearances, unfortunately, are not deceiving. You’re an innocent, and you have no more interest in partaking of our unholy pleasures than you do in becoming a holy martyr.”

“It’s better than rats,” she said frankly.

Silence, and in the darkness she could only see the gleam in his hard eyes. “Child,” he said faintly, “you unman me. If I am ever in the position where I wish to seduce someone I will simply assure her it’s better than rats.”

“Why wouldn’t you be in the position of seducing someone?” It was an impertinent question, but she was still oddly light-headed, here in the darkness with him.

“I don’t have to make the effort. They all come to me, sooner or later,” he said simply.

“How boring,” she observed.

“Indeed.” He reached up behind her to touch something that was out of her line of vision, and a moment later a door opened, and he guided her through.

It was like stepping into another world. The small salon was warm and cozy—a fire burned in the grate, the walls were covered in pale green silk and the furniture looked sturdy and comfortable. There was no sign of revelers or indeed, any of the kind of jeweled ostentation of the first room she’d been in. No false throne and dais, no gilded walls and cherubed trim. She might as well be in a family drawing room in England.

“There’s a seat by the fire,” he said as she pulled away from him.

There was indeed, a large, tufted chair that looked so comfortable she wanted to weep. “Isn’t that yours?”

“Much as it pains me to tear myself away from you, I have other responsibilities, as well as the party I seem to be hosting,” he said. “My guests will wonder where I’ve gone.”

“I must get home. My mother…”

“When your mother is found she’ll be taken back to the city in comfortable accommodations. You will follow, and you’ll never have

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