A Daring Liaison(99)
‘You don’t mean that—’
‘I most certainly do!’ Pandora insisted emotionally, sure that if she did not escape his steely grip very soon that she might actually swoon. Which she did not believe for one moment, from the expression of carnal intent now darkening Lord Sugdon’s face, would succeed in securing her release either; indeed, the man looked as if he were more than capable of taking advantage of her while she lay unconscious and unknowing in his arms. ‘You must stop this immediately, my lord!’
‘Like it a little rough, do you, my beauty?’ Sugdon grinned in satisfaction. ‘You will hear no complaints from me on that score!’ One of his hands released her waist long enough to grasp the neckline of her gown before pulling on the delicate fabric until it ripped and allowed her chemise-covered breasts to spill into view. ‘Now there’s a pretty sight to behold, to be sure.’ His gaze was heated on her semi-naked breasts as he licked the fullness of his lips in anticipation.
Pandora gave a choked sob, knowing that her life—a life that had been overshadowed by so much unhappiness these past four years—had just lowered to a depth of depravity she could never have imagined before this evening. ‘Please, you must not do this!’ she pleaded desperately as she continued to push ineffectively against the strength of Lord Sugdon’s hold upon her.
‘You know that you want me to.’ His hand now cupped one of her breasts, his fingers digging painfully into her tender flesh. ‘That you have been begging for just this all evening.’
‘You are wrong if you think that, sir!’ Pandora gasped. ‘Now please—’
‘It is you who shall please me in a few moments, my lovely— Why, you—!’ He snarled angrily as Pandora’s hand landed painfully against his cheek. ‘You shall pay for that, you little—’
‘I believe you will find, Sugdon, that when a lady says no as vehemently as this one is so obviously doing, that it is better to err on the side of caution and accept that she really might be turning down your advances.’
Pandora staggered back into the bench as she found herself suddenly released from Lord Sugdon’s hot and repulsive embrace, uncaring of the bruising of the metal into the back of her legs as she clutched her ripped gown tightly over her breasts, her face deathly pale as she stared across the terrace at her unexpected—and totally improbable—saviour.
Lord Rupert Stirling, eighth Duke of Stratton. Otherwise known to the ton as simply Devil...