Chapter 12
Dorian’s tone grated. “Do you recall the agreement not to inquire into my private affairs?”
“Yes,” she replied quietly. “I apologize.”
Slightly aggravated, Dorian sipped his wine.
They did not like each other. . . but he couldn’t tear his eyes from her. He desired her, hungered for her. That was unquestionable. The fact that they fought like cats and dogs couldn’t stop the need that shot through him like a potent drug.
With her clad in a frilly white wrapper, her glossy curls tumbling free, he thought back to the kiss they’d shared last night—and wanted more. That kiss had stolen his reason, and if not for the gravity of the moment, he would have pushed for more.
“Take care not to do it again,” he muttered.
She had enjoyed it—he knew for he had seen it in the pink tinge of her cheeks, the wideness of her eyes, and the rapid pace of her breath. Whether Evelina wanted to admit it or not, she enjoyed kissing.
And how he would love to teach her to kiss some more.
But he could not. Could he? Would their agreement allow him to?
“What do you suppose my family is saying with us not attending the wedding breakfast?” she asked.
“Anything, from you wanting to rush off to the honeymoon, to me banning you from seeing them because of how repugnant they are,” Dorian replied.
“Repugnant,” Evelina uttered. “Is that not a touch unkind?”
“Not from where I stand, no,” he replied. “How well do you know your relatives?”
“I know my aunt has a liking for the ton—”
“An obsession.”
“—that has made her do some silly things—”
“Completely outlandish.”
“—but my uncle is an honest, hardworking man, and my cousin is the most loving soul I have ever met,” Ellie said.
Finished with his meal, Dorian sat back, and cocking his boot on his other knee, he replied, “Your uncle may be hardworking, but he is far from honest. Nevertheless, he is not the issue I have with the pair, it is your aunt who galls me.”
Confusion shone on her visage, even in the flickering light. “Whatever do you mean?”
Dropping his knee, he leaned forward and braced his forearms on the table. “Your aunt came from money, Evelina. Her father, your grandfather, was a rich merchant and gave her everything she ever desired. However, when your father took over the helm, he tightened the purse strings.
“New season gowns, denied. A new set of jewels, denied, even a new carriage, also rejected,” Dorian told her.
“She resented being told no, so she found a suitable husband and married him, thinking he would give her everything she wanted and elevate her to peer status. Alas, we both know that is not how that story turned out.”
Evelina turned her head to the window; the soft light played over her face. “And then my father lost his wealth.”
“Your aunt was furious as she’d imagined a healthy purse to gain, but then when she realized the truth, she took you in with the aim of using you to gain that status, which is precisely how Carrington came into your life,” Dorian finished. “Now you understand why I said repugnant.”
Her face fell, and she pushed her plate away.
Beneath her controlled facade, he felt that she was roiling with emotion.
No one wanted to know their relatives, their blood, had planned to use them for their own means.
He knew that all too well, what with his hunt for his traitorous uncle still underway.
“I am sorry to rip the veil from your eyes,” he murmured.
Evelina slowly shook her head. After a long pause, she said, “I find it very concerning that you were able to deliver such news with little emotion behind it.”
“For good reason,” he said.
“This uncle business of yours,” she added.
“Yes.”
Covering her plate, Evelina asked, “There are so many gaps between you ending up on the streets, running with a gang, and your uncle and Carrington. Would you care to align those events for me?”
“I was thirteen when my father took ill,” Dorian began. “Too ill to read, let alone manage the estate. My uncle stepped in—said he’d help, just until I came of age. I believed him. We both did.
“He brought documents—said they were for business matters, nothing to trouble myself over. I trusted him. So I signed. So did my father, though he barely knew what he was putting his name to.”
Dorian’s jaw tightened. “With the help of our solicitor, who was likely in on it, my uncle shifted control of the businesses to himself. Usurped most, bled the rest dry. By the time we realized, everything was gone. The lands, the accounts... all of it.. We were cast off like driftwood, and I had to find a way to cobble our lives back together.”
“So that is where Carrington came in.”
“Him and his gang, yes,” Dorian nodded. “As I grew, I began to break away from him and did the exact opposite of what he expected from me. I am a self-made man, Evelina, in every respect.” His tone was devoid of emotion.
“I have been making my own way in the world since I can recall. In my twenties, I started my own club, The Labyrinth, that bloomed into more success than his, and deep down, he still resents me for it. I have since grown from that business, and over the years, I have managed to regain much of what my uncle stole. But I still have a few sticking points.” He paused. “Do you have any questions?”
“Only about three score and ten,” Ellie replied. “But I suppose those can wait for another night. Though I do have one pressing question…”
He waited. “And what is that?”
“We are to attend balls and soirees, of your choice—” she added, “—but I feel as if we are still strangers to each other.”
“We are.”
She puffed out a breath. “Do you not think others will see that and challenge our union?”
Rising, Dorian left the dining table for a loveseat near a set of wide windows. The night was balmy, so he did not feel the need to go to the small hearth across the room and light a fire.
“What do you suggest?” he asked.
“What if…” She chewed on her lip. “Oh, fiddlesticks…”
Catching a hint of what he thought she was about to say—what he wanted her to say, Dorian leaned forward. “What is it, Evelina?”
“It is either terribly, terribly complicated, or terribly, terribly simple,” she began. “The ton does not take lightly to shows of emotion, but I think we should employ a strategy that middles both ends when we are around our peers.”
A wicked emotion struck through his eyes. “Sweet Evelina, are you asking me to seduce you?”
“No,” her face went cheery red. “I certainly did not say that.”
His voice lowered to a seductive timbre. “Given our attraction to one another, I have no objections to that.”
“I—I should go and retrieve whatever sense of self-respect I have left—” She surged to get up, but Dorian leaned forward first and grasped her arm, stopping her mad rush and reeling her back to him.
Her head flashed to him, and with a second tug, he had her on his lap. Her legs folded against the hard rack of his thighs.
“Seduction, hmm?” he murmured. “An intriguing proposition. Usually, I’d avoid an inexperienced virgin such as yourself like the plague, but this might help us.”
Framing her face with both hands, he swept his thumb over her cheekbones. Hesitancy was rife in her eyes, but soon it vanished as a bolt of steel took its place. One thing he could say for Evelina; she was no shrinking violet.
He brushed his lips against the plush and pliant set of hers, causing her to yield in a submissive way that made his heart and manhood pound with desire.
Cradling her delicate jaw between his palms, he feasted on the sweetness of her surrender… the surrender that only a woman with her strength and spirit could give. The tender embrace vanished in a breath.
Tilting her head back, he deepened the kiss and swept his tongue through her warm cavern, plundering her mouth, eking out a needy moan from her that burned through him like a fever.
He coaxed her tongue out to play, twisting and twirling, as if they were spinning on a dance floor. She followed his lead to perfection, their flesh gliding and twining in a slick, hot dance that made his trousers grow tight.
He ended the kiss for self-preservation. Her lips were swollen, her eyes glazed with need, and a primitive part of him wanted to scoop her up, carry her to bed, and have his wicked way with her.
He was hard… from a damned kiss.
But he wasn’t a troglodyte… not that way, anyway. “Sweetheart… are you sure you solely asked because you wanted to perfect our ruse?”
“What other motive would I have to ask?”
“I think after our kiss last night, you grew curious and wanted to replicate it,” he teased. “You wanted another kiss.”
“N-no—” She scrambled off his lap, and he instantly missed the feel of her soft skin under his palms. “I certainly did not.”
“Evelina,” her name halted her at the doorway. When she spun, he asked, “How long do you think it will take me to disabuse you of the notion that you find me not only attractive, but that I have an effect on you?”
She straightened. “Of course you do. You aggravate me to madness!”
Throwing his head back, he belted out a laugh. “I’ll accept that half admission. One day, I’ll seduce you enough to get the other half.”
Yanking at the knob that led to her rooms, Ellie replied, “You’ll never get that from me.”
Reposing on the loveseat, he grinned. “Do you care to make that a wager?”
The door slammed behind her.
After a fruitless night of tossing and turning, Ellie woke with the troubling realization that Dorian had gotten under her skin. What she couldn’t comprehend was Dorian showing up in her dreams as well, his golden eyes dancing with wicked glee.
Did she want him to seduce her? Did she want his drugging kisses?
Apparently so, as she’d dreamed of his hands, his mouth, his daring eyes, and the pleasure he’d eked from kissing her. A part of her cracked on the realization that, yes… she did want his wicked looks, his dry drawl, and his masterful lips roaming over hers.
And that bothered her to distraction.