grave that I have told you the truth.”
Perhaps she would go to hell for that, but it was better than sending someone else.
His eyes held hers a long moment. “Almost I wish…”
She didn’t ask, because she knew what he wished for—some excuse to vent his rage at her. Now he would have to try to suppress it at least until he had proved her a liar. And when he had—
He bent, putting one hand on the top of the littered vanity and slipping the other beneath the fall of her hair. With that one, he gripped her neck strongly enough that even had she dared, she would not have been able to turn her head. His mouth fastened over hers, his tongue demanding entrance.
She didn’t respond. She never did, because it made no difference to him. He preferred her impassivity. Or even, as she had learned very early in their relationship, her resistance. That was a mistake she had never made again.
As her guardian kissed her, the movement of his mouth hard, almost brutal, tears burned at the back of her eyes. Unwillingly she remembered the touch of another man’s lips. Another man’s kiss. Another man.
He isn’t a man, she had warned the Englishman. She had known from what she had seen in his eyes that he didn’t believe her. And so, even as Julián’s mouth moved against hers, her mind raced, frantic to find before it was too late, some way to prevent what was about to happen to him.
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