The Study of Seduction (Sinful Suitors, #2)(13)

But he merely laughed. “That’s absurd. My spies have seen no evidence of that.”

Anger spiraled inside her, and she clung desperately to it, hoping to banish her fear. “Spies? You’ve been spying on me?”

“I told you. I shall never let you escape me.”

Her blood faltered. Be strong, she told herself. You can bluff your way through this.

She donned her haughtiest manner. “If you’re trying to convince me of your love, that isn’t the way to go about it.” With a sniff, she rushed past him.

But she wasn’t quick enough. Catching her by the arm, he jerked her back around and pushed her against the wall.

“Then I shall have to convince you some other way,” he growled, before taking her mouth with his.

A tiny part of her screamed, Fight! But the rest of her froze. Dark memories from years ago swamped her. A night in an orangery. Soft kisses twisting into hard ones. A man’s rough hands groping, ripping . . .

Her ears began to ring. Her vision was tunneling now, and her head spinning . . . Oh, Lord, no, no, no. She couldn’t faint. Not now. Not with him!

Then the door slammed open beyond them, and through a dim fog, she heard Edwin say, “Let go of her, you bastard, or I’ll beat you within an inch of your life!”





Four


It took all of Edwin’s strength not to hurtle across the room and plant a facer on Durand. But laying out the charge d’affaires of the French embassy would set tongues to wagging, and the last thing they needed was rumors swirling about Clarissa and Durand. The man would use them to force her into marriage.

The very idea made Edwin’s blood run cold. Especially when she stood stock-still, trembling, her face white. Seeing her so shaken cut through him like a knife of ice. If the man hadn’t stopped trying to kiss her at that moment, Edwin might have pummeled the bastard anyway.

“Step away from her.” Edwin held his hands curled into fists before him in a pugilist’s stance. “Now!”

Durand frowned. “Stay out of this, Blakeborough. It’s none of your concern.”

“The devil it isn’t.” Edwin said the first thing that came into his head. “She’s my fiancée.”

Bloody hell. Had he actually said that? He’d never been good at lies, and that was a colossal one.

But he wouldn’t back out of it now. Too much was at stake. “So I’ll thank you to keep your hands off her unless you want to end up laid out on the floor.”

Looking panicked, Clarissa rushed over to put herself between them. “That’s enough, both of you!” She grabbed Edwin’s rigid arm and dragged on it until he reluctantly lowered his fist. “There will be no brawling. There must be no brawling.” Her imploring gaze said, This must remain private.

Damn it. She was right.

“You heard the lady,” Durand said with a smug tone. “There’s no need for brawling. Especially since we both know you’re lying about being her fiancé.”

She whirled on the man with a fierce look. “He is not.” Then she grabbed Edwin’s hand. “I just told you I’m in love with someone else. You simply refused to listen.”

Even knowing she was bluffing about being in love didn’t diminish the power of those words. Or the strange sensation of her fingers clinging to his hand so intimately. As if she needed him.

God help him, he would be here for her, no matter how many lies he had to spout. She was still shaken. He could tell.

It brought anger roaring up inside him once more. “I suggest you leave, Durand, or I won’t be accountable for my actions.” That was certainly not a lie.

The Frenchman laughed dismissively. “And what do you think you could do?”

Edwin’s free hand was still clenched in a fist at his side. “Not for nothing did my brother spend all his time with pugilists. They taught him how to fight, and he taught me. I’m happy to demonstrate what I learned.”

Rabidly eager, in fact. He couldn’t explain the violence of his anger, but it was a palpable, twisting creature inside him. If Durand made one move toward Clarissa, Edwin would gleefully punch the arse in the jaw.

Eyes narrowing, Durand glanced from him to Clarissa. “Your fiancé, eh? If that’s true, then why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

“We’re keeping it secret until my cousin returns.” Clarissa sounded far calmer than Edwin felt, though the surprising strength with which she gripped his hand belied her tone. “Edwin hasn’t had the chance to ask Lord Knightford for my hand formally.”

“Why not?” Durand crossed his arms over his chest. “Knightford brought you to town only a couple of days ago, didn’t he?”

Edwin’s gut twisted into a knot. The man knew her comings and goings that well? “Not that it’s any of your concern, but he had to leave right away again on business.” Edwin stared down into Clarissa’s face with what he hoped was a convincing lover-like expression as he prepared to lie his arse off. “Besides, I wanted to speak to her before I approached him. So I did. Yesterday. Unfortunately, by then he was already gone.”

The Frenchman scowled. “I don’t believe either of you. Here’s what I think happened.” Ignoring Edwin entirely, Durand sidled nearer, and Clarissa pressed herself against Edwin’s side so instinctively that it worried him. “Knightford had to leave on business, and he was afraid that if he left her ladyship alone, I might persuade her to give me a chance. So he asked his good friend to stand in for him as her protector.”