Angel in Scarlet (Bound and Determined #4)(10)

“Let go,” he said. The words sounded torn from him.

Waiting a second, she released the rigid peaks. Blood rushed into them.

“God, you look so pretty, all red and swollen. You make me want to suck you, to nip you with my teeth. To feel your whole body tense at my touch.”

She could almost feel his touch. Her legs quivered and it was hard to stand still. What would happen if she walked toward him? Would he be able to resist? But what then? Despite the urges coursing through her, she must remember that they were in a garden and could be disturbed at any moment.

And she must remember that this was vengeance. Her vengeance.

She turned slightly, looking over her shoulder at the bright lights of the ball. What would someone see if they looked out the window? Could they see only dark, or could one tell from the back that her dress was lowered? The thought filled her with fear but also with something else, something deeper and harder to define.

The breeze suddenly gusted, causing her skirts to dance about her and the trees to whistle loudly.

She turned back to Colton—only he was no longer there. The terrace was empty of all but her and the blowing wind.

—

Colton stared hard at the back wall of the small garden. London gardens were all the same: They gave the illusion of vast space until you hit the wall and realized that you were only feet away from the busy streets. If Angela had bothered to follow him, she would have had no trouble.

Hell, it would have been impossible not to find him. Running a hand through his already disheveled hair, he contemplated climbing the wall. His jacket and breeches were certainly not designed for such an activity, and he’d probably scratch the polished leather of his slippers. Not that either of these factors actually worried him. Anders would be irate, but Colton had never been one to let his valet dictate his decisions. He was not a man to run from a fight.

So why was he standing here trying to puzzle out the best way to escape a ball?

He could only chuckle at his own actions.

He was willing to risk splitting his breeches to escape a bare-chested girl. Was he really expecting her to come dashing through the thin border of trees like an Amazon, with her bosoms bobbing in the moonlight? He paused. Pale globes of perfect flesh, their reddened tips begging for his touch, their sway and bounce crying for his hand, his lips, his teeth.

His already half-swollen cock grew fully erect.

If he actually thought he’d get to enjoy that sight without interruption, he’d probably have stayed.

Which was exactly why he needed to flee, why he had fled.

The Angela who had confronted him tonight was not the girl he had dismissed from his affections. No, the woman tonight had been the angel he had dreamed of, had been the woman he’d come to know, not the little lamb who had suddenly replaced her those last weeks. So which was the real woman?

Plenty of women acted differently after they thought they had a man caught by their lure, but in his experience that usually meant moving from sweet to temper, not getting sweeter and sweeter until a man’s teeth began to ache.

If Angela had always demonstrated the fire she had tonight, his decisions might have been very different. But she had not. No. The woman he’d come to know had lacked even the slightest spark. He must remember that.

He had kissed a woman full of fire, and two days later there was not a spark to be found. The kiss that had left him a burning inferno had evidently submerged any glow she might have had.

The Angela of tonight might represent a temptation almost impossible to resist, but if he wasn’t careful, he’d be visiting the parson with a woman he knew had come to bore and irritate him, a woman who repulsed his every attempt for further kisses, who had made it clear she found him as desirable as a pile of dirty rags.

And pledging his life to that woman was one thing that was definitely not in the cards.

Although hadn’t that been his original plan, to find a wife among the flock of lambs? And Angela certainly had not been a lamb tonight.

The more he considered, the more his thoughts moved in circles, his head near spinning.

Who was Angela really? Tonight her eyes had been filled with a gleam of passion and interest that he’d rarely seen before, and certainly not in one so young. Wasn’t that why he’d played with courting her in the past, the thought that there was something more in her than met the eye? And then one day, as soon as he’d kissed her, she’d suddenly begun to bleat just like every other sheep in the herd. Do you like my gown? Wasn’t that music divine? Which functions are you planning to attend this season? I do hope the weather is fine. I’ve heard such wonderful things about your estates. Wouldn’t you like to visit my parents in the country? They are having a house party in a couple of weeks.

Now, that was enough to make a man, any man, no matter how brave, run in fear.

Only she hadn’t sounded like that tonight.

I will do anything, anything that you want.

He hadn’t believed it. Hadn’t even been sure he believed she’d talked to Madame Rouge. Despite the look in her eyes, he’d been certain she was talking about something much simpler, about wearing a gown in a color he liked or letting him talk about horses for hours.

But she had meant it. The intensity of her face, as she’d pushed down her gown and exposed herself to him and to the dark, was unmistakable. She’d done it for him at first, because it had been his desire, but then because it had been her own. He’d seen the shift in her eyes, in the flush on her face.