Inclining her head to the large butler lurking in the corner, she cleared her throat. “Alone.”
Adam smiled, the flash of teeth both sudden and startling. The motion lacked all humor, though, more akin to a lion baring its teeth.
“Niall, Daphne is uncomfortable with your presence,” he declared, glancing over her shoulder at the silent butler. “You’ve frightened the girl half out of her wits. Would it kill you to crack a smile from time to time?”
Her eyes widened, and she glanced over her shoulder at the butler—who was apparently named Niall. Her face burned with embarrassment, but he hardly seemed ruffled.
“Of course I’m not afraid,” she said, turning back to Adam. “What I wish to discuss is a delicate matter, and—”
“Excellent,” he quipped with a dismissive motion of his hand. “Niall loves nothing more than listening to the inane concerns of pampered ladies, don’t you, Niall?”
The butler remained where he stood, but did turn his head to meet his lord’s gaze. “I’ve been known to indulge in a wee bit o’ gossip, Master.”
The mocking tone of both their voices set her teeth on edge.
“My lord, I really must insist—”
Adam’s fist came down on the surface of the table, causing the silverware to rattle and tea to slosh from her cup and pool in the saucer. She started, flinching in reaction to the sudden outburst, her heart taking up a rapid cadence. Any humor in his expression fled as he slowly rose to his feet, the golden prisms in his eyes flaring to life as if stoked by some inner fire.
Rounding the table in two quick strides, he took her arm in an iron grip and hauled her to her feet. She struggled against his hold, but he gave her a swift tug and wrapped his other arm around her waist. Her entire body stiffened as it came against his—the hard planes of his chest digging into the soft flesh of her breasts.
Her breath caught and held in her throat while his huffed against her cheek.
“Perhaps I am not making myself clear enough,” he whispered, his voice low and ominous as he pressed his mouth against her ear. “This is my domain. I am the master of everything and everyone inside it, and for the next thirty days and nights, that includes you. Aside from your lady’s maid, you do not possess the authority to order my staff about. This is not London, little dove … you cannot shoo Niall from the room as if he were some bothersome fly. If you do not wish to speak in front of him, then I suggest you keep those pretty lips of yours shut lest I find some other way for you to occupy them.”
Short pants made her breasts heave against his chest, the anger and confusion this man made her feel setting the surface of her skin on fire. One second, she was ready to take him to task; the next, he was catching her off guard with his sudden shifts in demeanor. Going slack in his arms, she ceased fighting his ironclad hold and glared at him, refusing to avoid his piercing gaze.
“I was informed you intend to purchase clothing for me,” she snapped. “I simply wanted to tell you there is no need to go to such lengths. If there are more where these borrowed clothes came from, I am happy to make do with them. Or, perhaps Maeve might loan me a few simple garments.”
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his entire body—and, by proxy, hers. His teeth flashed again with a sardonic smile, and he kept one arm around her, but released the one he’d been holding, using the now-empty hand to cup her face.
“Isn’t that just darling, Niall?” he teased, stroking a thumb along her lower lip. “The little chit would rather wear the rags of a maid than the expensive trappings I could provide her. Could it be because she doesn’t want to be pretty for me?”
“I cannae pretend to know, Master,” Niall replied dryly.
“It does not matter whether you’re dressed in rags, the finest ball gowns, or nothing at all,” he continued, stroking her lower lip with slow swipes of his thumb. “You are mine to do with as I please. I am paying good money for access to your ripe, virginal body, and that means I will use you how I wish, when I wish, where I wish. It also means you will wear what I tell you to wear, or you shall wear nothing at all.”
As he leered at the generous amount of flesh revealed by her indecently low bodice, a niggling of fear trickled down her spine. Something told her he would make good on his threat to have her traipse about nude.
“Might I at least be allowed a chemise?” she asked, hating that he would reduce her to begging for so basic a dignity as smallclothes.
But, dash it all, she could not let this encounter past without gaining anything—even something so small as a pair of drawers. Not after he’d taunted and humiliated her in front of Niall.
“No,” he replied. “I want as few layers between me and you as possible. What fun would this be if you wore a chemise under that gown?”
He emphasized his last words by moving his hand from her face and placing it between her shoulder blades. With a flick of his fingers, the first button loosened from its hole.
She sucked in a sharp breath, thrashing in his hold. No man had ever seen her completely undressed, and her limited experience had not prepared her for this. The soft kisses and tentative caresses she’d been treated to in the past should not be expected here—she had known that. But, when setting out to do battle with him, she had never expected him to disarm her so quickly.
He tightened his arm around her, the hand at her back now moving up to clutch her neck. He stilled her movements and forced her to look at him, his hooded gaze deceptively calm. Beneath the limpid stare, she saw the depravity simmering in the depths—the hunger of a predator prepared to maul and devour its prey.
“Shh,” he murmured. “Fighting will not cool my ardor, little dove. In fact, it will only stoke it. Is that what you want?”
Trembling in his hold, she shook her head. Of course he would enjoy the hunt, the chase, and the inevitable surrender. No monster wanted to pursue a victim that lay limp and accepted its fate. Perhaps that would be her salvation—passively accepting his attentions instead of fighting against them. If she could cause him to grow bored with her, she might escape this ordeal unscathed. She certainly was not worldly enough to raise any other sort of defense. Cursing her inexperience, she wished she knew what to do, what to say to gain firmer footing with him.
“I will undress you now, and you will let me,” he said, his voice low but his tone firm. “Yes?”
Taking a deep breath, she released it on a shaky exhale. What else could she do but allow it?
“Yes.”
Going back to her buttons, he smirked. “Good girl.”
She avoided his gaze, staring off across the room as he worked his way down her spine, steadily slipping the buttons free and causing her dress to slacken until it slipped off her shoulders. The warmth of the fire caressed her bare back, but she avoided thinking about it—or about the fact that only his body mashed tightly against hers kept the gown from falling away and baring her completely. She tried to distance herself from him entirely, to become nothing more than a piece of flesh for him to manipulate—not a living, breathing woman who could be hurt on a whim.
Keeping her pressed up against him, he lowered her, allowing her body to drag against his in a slow caress. The fabric of his wool coat rasped her nipples through the velvet of her gown, and his cock brushed against her stomach. Heat flamed in her cheeks at the feel of his masculine organ, hard and pulsating against her.
“You will not try to run or claw my eyes out when I release you, will you?” he teased with a glance at the gown still held up over her breasts.
It would seem he did not intend to allow her the distance she needed to survive this encounter. Very well, then. She would do what she’d intended from the moment she’d agreed to this preposterous arrangement … she would face him, confront him, meet his challenge by showing him that she would not be so easily fazed.
Still avoiding his gaze, she kept her lips pressed together as she took a step away from him—not far enough that he mistook the movement as evasive, but
just enough that the gown sagged down to her waist. With her forearms still trapped inside the long sleeves, her breasts and belly now lay bare to his view, the gown resting at her hips.
Only Adam’s eyes reacted to her state of half-nudity, the dark pupils dilating and the golden flecks dancing with the green. Goosebumps rippled along her skin as his gaze skimmed her naked breasts and traveled over the plane of her stomach. Reaching out with one hand, he fisted the front of the gown and gave it a rough jerk, leaving it in a pile at her feet. She flinched, but held her ground as he stood back, studying her with an almost clinical sort of detachment.
The mystery of what he might be thinking as he traced the curves of her waist and hips with his scrutiny put her on edge. While she did not care whether she possessed enough womanly appeal to tempt him, she did not want him to become displeased by the simple sight of her. After all, he had paid thirty thousand pounds for every inch of the skin he stared at now.
“Would you look at that?” he murmured, his voice joining his gaze to travel over her in a handless caress. “Niall, isn’t she the bonniest thing?”
Gasping, she covered herself—one hand cupping her mons and an arm shielding her breasts. He’d caused her to forget the presence of the butler, who loomed somewhere behind her, silently witnessing this entire encounter. Willingly allowing him to inspect her had been one thing … being forced to let another man witness it, quite another.
“’Tis hard to say from behind, Master,” Niall replied, his tone light, as if the two men were discussing the weather instead of the nude woman standing between them. “Though from here, I can attest she’s got a lovely arse.”
If she flushed any more, she might go up in flames, her entire body from scalp to toes alight with humiliation.
“Well, don’t be shy,” Adam prompted, grasping her shoulders. “I’m a bit jealous of Niall’s view of your arse, and I know he’s keen to see those fine tits of yours.”
Before she could blink, he had spun her to face the butler, who remained at his post in the corner of the room. He had an unobstructed view of her as Adam gave her a little push forward. Then, coming up behind her, he grasped her hands and forced them away from her body, revealing every bit of what she’d tried to hide. Keeping a firm hold on her wrists, he lowered them to her sides and pressed his front against her back, his pelvis cradling her arse and giving her another feel of the hard ridge between his legs.
“You enjoy his eyes on you, don’t you, Daphne?” he rasped against her ear as across the room, Niall appraised her with eyes that betrayed nothing.
Lifting her chin, she met Niall’s gaze defiantly. “No.”
Adam nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply and then releasing his breath on a chuckle. “Liar. You know how bonny you are, don’t you? You primp and preen for the young blades of London, priding yourself on remaining chaste while driving them mad with lust for you. Swaying those hips of yours when you walk and batting those long eyelashes for their attention, then retreating to the protection of the men who cosset you. Back into your cage where it’s safe, little dove … they cannot touch you there. And there you remain, pretty, unsullied, and pure.”
“Not for long, eh?” Niall mumbled, prompting another laugh from Adam.
“Not for long, indeed,” he agreed.
Releasing her, he approached the butler, turning his back to her dismissively as he reached into the breast pocket of his coat. Daphne refused to cover herself, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how he’d humiliated her. She kept her head held high and her gaze locked on him as he handed an envelope to Niall.
“Have this letter delivered to Fairchild House in London, posthaste,” Adam commanded. “We must let Daphne’s family know their pampered princess will be safe with us.”
Bowing to his lord, Niall then cast her one last cursory glance. “Right away, Master.”
As the butler retreated from the room, tucking the envelope into his breast pocket, she breathed a sigh of relief. At least Adam would remain true to his word and ensure her family knew she was safe. At least, as safe as she could be in the company of the man who seemed set on their destruction.
They would be horrified to know where she had gone, but not foolish enough to come after her. Too much hung in the balance, and with Bertram’s reputation already in tatters, they would do everything they could to conceal her absence from the ton. They would understand that it had to be her—that she was the only Fairchild with anything of value left to barter with.
When she returned home thirty thousand pounds wealthier, she hoped they would be able to forgive her for what she’d had to do. She hoped Bertram would understand she’d done it all for him—her brother; the only man who had ever treated her as if she possessed a mind of her own. The only man to treat her as an equal.
Her virtue in exchange for her family—a price she was more than willing to pay. They might not have always understood her—her parents trying to stifle some of her less than ladylike propensities—but they loved her, and had done what they could to help her fit in with the other ladies of her age, to ensure she had a secure future and could make a good match for marriage. Bertram had accepted her as she was, often giving her the sort of understanding and affection their father had seemed incapable of. When they were finished being hurt that she’d acted without their leave, they would forgive her. Perhaps, they would even thank her.
Once Niall had gone, Adam returned to her, arms folded over his chest. All the humor had fled the room, as if the butler had taken it with him. Adam’s gaze upon her felt cold now, as if he assessed how best to effectively dismantle her.
Then, he was moving to the table where they’d shared breakfast, shoving dishes and platters aside. Turning to her, he grasped her waist and lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather. He deposited her upon the table, grasping her knees and pulling her legs apart as wide as they would go. The swift motion threw her off balance, and she used her hands to brace herself, forcing her back to arch and thrusting her breasts upward. She wanted nothing more than to right herself and close her legs, but he quickly stepped between them, looming over her and bracing his hands on the edges of the table to trap her between his arms.
“The idea of forcing you to run about naked has just become more appealing,” he said, his lips brushing against her jaw. “Yes, I can see it now … you crawling to me on your hands and knees wearing only those stockings.”
She turned her head just before his lips could touch hers, narrowing her eyes at him. “I am not a dog, and I will not crawl about on the floor like one.”
Leaning even closer, he nuzzled her nose with his, momentarily disarming her with the unexpected gesture. Were he not looking at her as if prepared to rip her to shreds, she might have mistaken it as one of affection.
“No, not a dog,” he agreed. “More like a kitten wearing a bonny little ribbon.”
Taking the end of the ribbon tied around her throat between his fingers, he caressed it, his sun-kissed skin dark against her porcelain. His knuckles brushed her breast, and when she shuddered in response, he grinned and repeated the motion—dragging his knuckles across her nipple over and over as his thumb and forefinger played with the silk ribbon.
“Will you purr for me when I pet you?” he whispered.
She had just opened her mouth to hurl a stinging retort when he suddenly slammed his lips over hers. The words lodged in her throat, shoved down by the invasion of his tongue as he slipped it into her mouth.
Daphne had been kissed before, and in truth had always found the experience varied depending upon who one happened to be kissing. She would have liked to think her past experiences would prepare her to be kissed by Adam.
As it turned out, nothing could have prepared her for this.
His mouth pressed hard against hers, his lips parting and closing in a languid rhythm that left her drugged, his tongue retreating to trace the seam between them before invading to search for hers again. The velvet rasp of his
tongue sent a little thrill through her, causing the tips of her breasts to tighten.
A low sound rumbled between them—a growl vibrating through his chest and echoing between their parted mouths. Her head began to spin as the primal sound echoed around them while he mauled her with his lips and tongue and teeth. She winced when he bit her lower lip, then sighed when his tongue caressed away the sting. Then, as if the first bite had been a prelude, he nipped her again, hard enough to draw a sharp cry from her. He followed the bite with gentler bites, then slowed the tempo of their kiss entirely, languidly brushing his mouth over hers as their racing breaths mingled on the air between them.
Before she could make sense of the mess his assault had made of her faculties, his heavy hand fell onto her belly. Meeting her gaze, he held it as his hand began to slide down toward the mound between her legs. Despite her intentions to remain passive, she couldn’t muffle the low whimper of panic that escaped as her thighs clenched, impeded from closing by his body wedged effectively between her knees.
“Shh,” he crooned, still steadily brushing his lips over hers. “Let me touch you, little dove.”
His thumb slipped between her lower lips, finding the hidden bud of pleasure. She’d only let one other man touch her here, but it became hard to think of him now as Adam stroked her in slow circles, the calloused pad offering delicious friction.
“Oh,” she whimpered, small shudders of pleasure rippling out through her body with every pass of his digit over her clit.
He deepened their kiss, his tongue tangling with hers as he dipped his thumb lower to discover the wetness seeping from her core. Smearing it over her pearl, he increased the pressure of his caresses, changing his rhythm as if he noticed she angled her hips toward him more when he touched her a certain way. As if he knew, by simple touch, what she craved.
“That’s it, love,” he grunted, his voice thick and heavy with the lust causing his cock to bulge against the front of his breeches. “Relax and let me touch you. Doesn’t that feel so good?”
The Villain Page 4