he think she was planning to run off with the family silver, for heaven’s sake? A picture of herself staggering out of the house weighed down with clanking booty at the end of her stay almost made her smile.
‘I do not intend to stay any longer than necessary,’ she sought to reassure him, but if his formidable frown was anything to go by, she didn’t succeed.
‘I believe my predecessor ordered that you remain a week,’ he argued.
‘I am of age and a widow, and thus in command of my own destiny.’
‘Yes, and just look what you have done with it,’ he snapped.
‘Which has nothing whatsoever to do with you,’ she said with apparent calmness; it was that or throw the nearest ledger at his ridiculously handsome head.
‘I am head of the family now.’
‘Congratulations, no doubt you will enjoy wielding your authority over them, but luckily you have none over me.’
‘Your annuity comes from the family trusts, I believe?’ he asked in a voice that was suddenly silky with unspoken threat.
‘And I hope you are not thinking of using that fact against me like the villain in a poorly contrived melodrama?’ she returned scornfully.
‘Anything to put a brake on your folly,’ he ground out as if tried to the very edge of his meagre stock of patience.
If Miranda had not known better, she might have considered him a man driven to extremis by some deeply hidden passion, but surely an hour’s acquaintance wasn’t enough to raise his hackles so thoroughly?
‘My conduct is none of your business, my lord,’ she objected and suddenly she wanted to commit every sin in the calendar just to spite him.
‘Of course it is,’ he replied, more formidable than ever as he stepped closer and seemed to tower over her like a Titan.
‘If I choose to dance naked on every gaming table in Mayfair, you could do nothing about it and you know it.’
‘Try it and you’ll very rapidly discover your mistake,’ he gritted through clenched teeth, and she actually heard herself squeak with surprise when he clipped her into his furious embrace, as she discovered too late that she had goaded the predator in him just a little too far.
Possession, fury and sheer need blazed back at her as she stared up at him in wonder, waiting for her own rage to catch up with shock. It was shock that held her immobile, of course it was. To be helpless in the arms of a man whose strength and power far outran her own was a nightmare. Or at least it would be as soon as her mind took over from her senses. Then she would turn stiff and outraged in his arms, instead of lying passive and even a little intrigued against his muscular torso like some swooning idiot.
‘I won’t allow it,’ he informed her tersely, just before he did just what her silly senses wanted and bowed his dark head to take her mouth with his.
And take he did. She stood bewildered in his arms and gave right back with a generosity part of her screamed was the biggest mistake of a long line of them. Nothing that had gone before had armoured her against this, she realised, even as her mouth softened and then yielded to his and she let her senses drown in him.
His kiss felt almost desperate; hungry with more than mere lust, as if he had been starving for this for a long time. Ignoring the cynical inner voice that whispered she was living in cloud cuckoo land, she felt his tongue circle her suddenly pouting lips and then effortlessly persuade them to part and let him inside. Right in the heart of her something softened and glowed into dangerous life. The essence of her femininity was still there after all, she discovered, unsure whether to be shocked or fascinated as her body revelled in his touch as it never had before.
Not even Nevin Braxton had managed to destroy her, she suddenly knew, as another man’s mouth melted the ice her husband had put about her deepest desires. Christopher Alstone groaned at her passionate response while she exulted in it; knowing he had freed something locked down and lost at the heart of her. Yet if she was not to regret it, the annoying voice of returning common sense informed her, she must stop him before this went much too far for both of them.
Then he plundered even deeper and his tongue danced with hers and her curiosity sparked dangerously to life as well. What would it be like to know the extremities of passion with such a man? Every instinct told her there would be nothing of compulsion or horror in such mutual need. From what seemed like a long distance she heard herself groan, not in disgust, but because she wanted more, closer, deeper. A hand she did not even know was free until then wandered round to the nape of his neck and rubbed at his silky curls, left just a little too long for the strict dictates of fashion. The scent of him, fresh air, good soap and aroused male, filled her lungs and she felt almost as if she was becoming part of him, as if fate had a hand in a joining far more intimate and just as inevitable.
‘No!’ she gasped as the prospect shook every resolution she had formed the day she finally got free of her husband.
Their gazes clashed as they took in what had happened, and what might have, if she hadn’t awoken to the possibility she was about to be made the Earl of Carnwood’s mistress. Oh, the humiliation that would have been, when passion was spent and both parties realised what they had done to satisfy it. All she had learnt from Nevin was that humiliation and much worse, not the jag and drag of frustration and regret not making love with Christopher Alstone had left her with.
‘No,’ he confirmed.
‘Then release me?’ she asked and let her eyes drift to where his long-fingered brown hand rested on the curve of her slender waist.
He dropped his hand as if she had burnt him, and hectic colour burnt along his high cheekbones as he stepped away. His dark gaze became guarded even as hers sought the reassurance that she rarely asked for nowadays. If she hadn’t seen those long, strong fingers shake just once before he clenched them into fists at his sides, she might have thought him as unaffected as he was suddenly trying to appear.
‘Please accept my apologies,’ he finally managed, although his voice sounded gruff and somewhat rusty.
Eyeing him as dubiously as he was watching her, Miranda dipped him a perfunctory curtsy and forced herself not to make an undignified bolt for freedom. Then she cursed herself for not escaping as his grip on her wrist stopped her in her tracks.
‘Have a care, Cousin Miranda,’ he warned in a deadly undertone, ‘if I hear gossip of this I’ll have you put out of the park gates, will or no will.’
‘How dare you?’ she whispered back fiercely, heartbeat racing at the angry mixture of excitement and fury his touch and those contrary words aroused.
‘I dare what I must to protect my own,’ he rasped. ‘Your sisters are in my care now, and you will behave yourself for their sake.’
She gave him a haughty glare and thought dark thoughts about his future well-being. Yet for some silly reason her mind kept presenting her with an image of him, eyes warm and hungry for her and everything about her, and she didn’t even like him, for heaven’s sake!
‘You don’t know me, sir, and you never will.’
‘Don’t underestimate me, Mrs Braxton. Force me to hold up your life to public scrutiny and you’ll very soon regret
