Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
As soon as he escorted Mrs. Merriweather to her door and bid her goodnight, Zachary broke his fuming silence. “I’m going to speak to your father about the duke this evening. He must know what kind of man he is.”
“No. You mustn’t. I can take care of my father myself.”
“You can’t. He’ll hear the rumors and deny what happened. He may expedite your marriage to that degenerate.”
“Must we spend our time arguing?”
He felt her study of his face. It prickled over his cheek and settled on his mouth. “You are a feebleminded fool to believe your father would champion you over the title. What’s worse is that he sent you there with a worthless chaperone.”
“My sister?”
“Exactly. She is as useful as a milk pail under a bull. She should have defended you.”
He was so angry he wanted to punch something and keep on pummeling it. He knocked on the side of the carriage to stop. “Let’s walk from here.”
Elizabeth took his hand and alighted. He held her hand and started walking fast. “That bastard,” he said flashing his even white teeth.
Gaslights lit the street, the light from the flames licking over his features in flattering adoration.
His deep cobalt eyes were fathomless as ever, zeroing in on her with the weight of the immense emotion she imagined this man was capable of feeling if he ever let himself go.
“Zachary.”
He stopped walking, grasped her to break her inertia.
Elizabeth straightened. “I’d hoped to talk to you tonight, but you seemed busy with all the women in your box. You do seem to have your admirers.”
He grinned like a Cheshire cat, kept hold of her wrist. “Jealous?”
She’d succumb to thumbscrews before she’d admit that truth. “Not at all. Other than Amanda, they had a hint of brazenness about them.” She’d seen the women’s behavior and how they sought measures to gain his attention. “One of them was bold enough to give you a kiss. How untoward and in public.”
He stroked his neck. “You caught that. I must admit, they were very entertaining and very beautiful.”
She attempted to tug her wrist from him. “If their bawdiness was to capture your regard, they’ve succeeded. Why Amanda would entertain such companions is beyond me.”
He arched a brow. “I did enjoy them. However, jealousy does not seem to be in your nature, Miss Spencer.”
She huffed. “Far be it from me to tell you what company you keep.”
“It spoils a man to be the object of so much scandalous interest.”
She flashed her eyes, and he laughed.
“How do you think I feel playing the ‘unacceptable’ among the parade of fools in your company?” His smile was in his voice, as was his jealousy.
“The sugar baron, the duke, every man at the ball…”
There it was again. That bitter tinge of envy in his voice that she quite liked.
“They are my sisters-in-law. They will be delighted to hear you have called them brazen hussies.”
“Your sisters-in-law?” Her mouth dropped open. “I never called them hussies.”
He folded his arms in front of him and narrowed his eyes on her. “I told you I didn’t want your financial help.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
He looked at her patiently, as if she were a backward child. “I can guess where the money came from. I don’t need charity.”
No wonder Fiona warned her about men. Provoking creatures.
“Well, Mr. Rourke,” she protested, twining a lock of hair around her finger and taking her time to embroider a response. “I’ve no talent for riddles. I can’t imagine who your secret benefactor is,” she said testily.
He grabbed her wrist, pulled her into the hidden shadows of an alcove, his thumb moving in lazy circles across her skin and the world seemed to close in on her.
His gentle caress set off an intense yearning in her.
She wanted to be closer to him, but he deliberately held her at a distance.
She yearned for him to let down his defenses, to erase the differences that kept them apart.
Somehow, they’d drawn even closer without her realizing it. His coat brushed her arm with each intake of his breath, his exhale sending warm air past her temple. If only—
“Elizabeth,” he whispered.
Before she could stop herself, she leaned up, placing her hands on his shoulders as she kissed him. He groaned in the back of his throat and the sound vibrated inside her, sending need and desire flooding through her veins.
He pulled her roughly to him, his mouth covering hers hungrily, that of a half-starved man, filling a wanting, as a desolate tract craves a deluge.
His tongue plunged into her mouth, and she burned everything about him into her memory.
She laced her arms around his neck. Boneless, she sank against him.
He circled his arms around her, holding her close, and she felt the fast beat of his heart. Blood pounded in her brain.
The scratch of wheels on pavement and the snap of a whip soaked through her passion-ridden brain. Zachary pushed her away, holding her at arm’s length. He had heard it, too.
“Elizabeth.” He whipped his head around while she steadied her legs. “Did you notice that carriage across the street? It has been everywhere, the riot at the theater, outside the orphanage. Someone is watching you.”
“I have no idea who it could be. It could be any random carriage.”
With their discovery, the unremarkable conveyance disappeared in the murky darkness. “My instincts say no. I’ll have Maguire investigate. Be wary until I find answers.” He had a good idea who it was.