Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(49)

No, she’d not been suspicious at all. She’d been wishing Lord Temple would speak about something besides breeding his newest stallion and the racer that didn’t like whips, but she’d been proud of herself for remaining open-minded. The man surely did not realize he was a bore on the subject—and saying things more than slightly unfit for a lady’s ear. Swanston would have boxed his ears if he’d heard him discussing how the stallion had pounded into the quivering mare and how she’d squealed. Bliss could not even imagine Duldon’s reaction.



And the whips? Why did the man think she wanted to discuss whips?

She’d worked hard to change the flow of the conversation. If they could simply discuss world affairs or the latest gallery exhibit then the conversation would turn about. Lord Temple must be interested in art if he wanted to traipse up three flights of stairs to stare at paintings. There must be something they could talk about.

And if that didn’t work perhaps she’d try kissing him. She’d meant it when she told Duldon that she needed to broaden her horizons. How was she to know if kissing him was exceptional when she had so little to compare? Lord Temple would not have been her first choice for kissing, but he was not a bad choice. If she were to read a written description of him she’d find him quite pleasant. He fit her criteria in almost every respect. He did have a title, but then so did Duldon. It would be hard for her to find a suitable man who did not.

Yes, she’d been more than willing to kiss him—only then he’d grabbed her. He’d simply grabbed her. No sweet meaningful looks. No poetic words. No statement of how desirable she was and that she was the one he’d been looking for all his life. He’d simply grabbed her. He’d come at her from behind, wrapped his strong arms about her, and his fingers had gone straight down her bodice, pinching at her nipples like cherries in a bowl, the heavy odor of brandy on his breath hinting that he’d had more than enough to drink.

She shuddered again at the thought. She wasn’t clear why his touch had been so different from Duldon’s, but it had.

Another step in the hallway. She’d have to plan her escape soon. If she could just make it back to the ballroom she’d be safe.



“Are you hiding in here, my sweet Bliss?” Lord Temple’s voice crept about the room. She hunched deeper into the shadows.

The crunch of his feet moved closer. “I do enjoy a good game, but this has gone on long enough. You’ve shown the proper resistance, now come and claim your reward. I promise you’ll be well pleased. I know all about you. I know just what you like and I am ready to try playing.”

She doubted that. How could Lord Temple possibly know what she liked? She didn’t even know what she liked. He’d probably heard rumors about her. There were always rumors about her. Rumors that she was fast, that she was willing to try anything. And while she might think being willing to try anything meant riding with no saddle or walking along the edge of a high balustrade, men always seemed to think it meant something else.

Hopefully the rumor was not a new one. She’d been busy enough with the old ones. Her true friends knew she’d kissed only four boys in her life, and that was including Duldon. Her heart filled with gratitude that she had not included Lord Temple in that number. If he’d only waited a few more moments she might have.

“Come on, my pretty thing. If you don’t come out soon we won’t have time to play tonight and my great hammer is more than ready for you.”

Pretending she did not know what that meant seemed by far the wisest course. How much lower into the shadows could she sink? And how long would it be before some servant came searching for more glasses or table linens?

“Damn you, girl. Don’t make me wait. I am not a man known for patience.”



Given that he’d moved from “my pretty thing” to “damn you, girl” in less than a minute she supposed that was true. Luckily this time his voice had sounded slightly more distant.

The sound of a door swinging shut and his next comment was so muffled she could not make out more than “bloody ass.” It was unclear whether he was calling her a bloody ass or saying he would give her a bloody ass. In neither case did she feel the need to follow him.

With some trepidation, she rose to her feet and eased from behind the shelf. It might be possible that Lord Temple was hiding, waiting for her to come out. There were only so many possible hiding places at the bottom of the stairs and she knew that he’d seen her flee down them.

A step forward and then another. Still no sound other than the noise of her own breathing. Holding her breath, she tried to quiet it. Another step. The door out of the pantries was just ahead. With care she placed both hands upon it and prepared to push it open.

Once she was through she would be close to safety. A few steps down the hall and then there would be other guests about. All she had to do was get through the door—through the door and not scream. She’d seen enough instances when a woman’s screams did nothing but encourage onlookers to believe she’d been doing something she shouldn’t.

Holding her breath, she gave the door a slight push and then a greater one. Almost. She was almost there.

She stepped forward and—almost as if her thoughts had ordained it—ran straight into a very firm, very hard, masculine chest.



Oh God, he’d found her. A heartbeat of dread, and then…