One Wicked Sin. Nicola Cornick

other one?”

      “Equality,” Ethan said. “Yes, those are the beliefs of the revolution.”

      “An odd sort of equality that sets one man up as an Emperor over the others,” Lottie said. “But then, I have never had much interest in politics so perhaps I am missing some crucial point. I fear that affairs of state bore me.” She yawned.

      “Fortunately I have no desire to talk politics with you,” Ethan said. “I did not buy you for that.”

      The air in the carriage cooled as though a breath of frost had blown through. Ethan saw that he had angered her with the blunt reminder of her situation. She still had plenty of pride. She turned her face away from him, her expression haughty. The carriage had slowed down at the meeting of two streets; it jerked forward and Lottie lost her balance, putting a hand out to steady herself against the door frame. As she moved, Ethan heard the unmistakable chink of coin, and expensive coin at that. Guineas. There could be only one place she had got those from. Their eyes met and in that moment he realized what she was about to do.

      She was going to cheat him and run away.

      Lottie had a hand on the door, already had it half-open with the noise and lamplight spilling in from the street outside the carriage. Ethan made a grab for her arm, felt the velvet of her cloak slip and slither between his fingers and caught her about the waist a second before she jumped.

      “Not so fast.”

      DAMN HIM. HE STILL sounded unperturbed. Was there nothing that could ruffle this man’s calm?

      Lottie half sat, half lay across Ethan’s lap, breathing quickly and feeling as trapped and furious as a cornered cat. Ethan’s arm was as unyielding as a steel band about her waist. She shifted a little, trying to ease his grip, and immediately the bag of guineas she had stolen from him bumped heavily against his thigh. He slanted a look down at her. His lips turned up in a grim smile as he extracted the purse from the pocket of her cloak.

      “I thought so. When did you lift that from me?” He sounded mildly interested, as though the pickpocket-ing habit of a society lady-turned-whore was a matter for careful consideration. Lottie felt her temper tighten further.

      “I took it whilst you were negotiating with Mrs. Tong,” she snapped. “You weren’t paying attention to me.”

      He nodded. “I underestimated you.”

      He ran his hands over her in an impersonal search that felt oddly like a caress. Lottie trembled a little beneath his touch. She felt tense as a bow, frustrated, furious, to have been caught out, yet alive, aroused, and dangerously close to the edge.

      “There aren’t any more,” she said. “I only had time to take the one.”

      “And then you were going to run away from me.”

      Lottie did not reply. She saw the cynical smile deepen on his lips.

      “Where did you plan to go?” Ethan’s face was so close to hers that she could see the planes and hollows illuminated by the skipping lamplight. His expression was dark and unrevealing. Some men were easy to read, Lottie thought, easy to understand and even easier to manipulate. Ethan Ryder was not one of them.

      “I have no notion,” she said. “I had not thought that far ahead.”

      “So only the theft of my money was planned?”

      Ethan’s voice was smooth but there was contempt beneath the surface. Well, she was not going to apologize. Perhaps it was wrong by conventional standards but she had moved so far beyond convention that she no longer cared.

      “Yes,” she said. She met his eyes very directly. “I planned to rob you from the moment I saw all those lovely guineas.” To have a little money would have given her back a tiny measure of control and the chance of freedom, she thought. Fate had presented her with an opportunity to wrest back some power so she had tried to take it. The fact that she had almost succeeded was infuriating. She had come so close—and then she had failed.

      “You were going to cheat me,” Ethan said. He grabbed her upper arms and held her still.

      “Of course I was,” Lottie flashed. “You would be a fool to think I would do otherwise.” The anger bubbled up in her again. How many times had she been cheated, used and discarded? It had been her turn for a change.

      “I thought we had an agreement,” Ethan said. She could feel tension in him, wound tight. The hands that held her were merciless. “Where is your loyalty?”

      “I have already told you that I do not possess such a quality.”

      “And now you have demonstrated it.” His tone was still level. “I do not think that you understand. As my mistress I expect you to be faithful to me, to show me a modicum of honesty and certainly not to try and rob me and run off.”

      “Surely you did not trust me anyway?” Lottie said disdainfully.

      “Naturally not.” He sounded dismissive. “But that does not mean I wished to be proved right.”

      “And yet you are not even angry with me.” For some reason this enraged Lottie all the more, as though his refusal to be provoked meant that she had failed twice over.

      “You mistake me,” Ethan said. “I am angry.” He raised a hand, eased back the hood of her cloak and tangled his fingers in her hair, bringing her face forward so that they were very close. She could feel the fury in him now, as elemental as fire. It was a shocking contrast when he kept his voice so steady.

      “I don’t show my feelings very often,” he whispered. “You should bear that in mind if you wish to please me in the future.”

      Lottie made an enraged sound. “Please you? I have no wish to please you! Surely you have realized that by now?”

      “You are ungrateful.” He sounded amused. “I could have left you in that brothel servicing half of London.”

      “Instead you bought me to service you!”

      “I gave you a choice,” Ethan said. His words were cool but the undertone was fierce. “I told you I did not want an unwilling mistress. You did not have to come with me.”

      “Then I would not have had any money, would I?” Lottie said, furiously.

      There was a pause and then Ethan laughed. “I do believe,” he said pleasantly, “that you are even more mercenary than I suspected.”

      He cupped her face between his hands and kissed her hard. Lottie could sense the heated anger but beneath that was an equally turbulent desire. It fed both her fury and her need. In the brothel she had known that he wanted her and yet he had chosen not to take her. His control had baffled her where another man would simply have indulged his lust. Now though, Ethan’s control was slipping, ignited by an anger she sensed went far deeper than mere annoyance at her deceit. She could feel a fury in him that was dark and ungovernable and went as deep as his soul. It was no wonder that normally he kept so tight a grip on it.

      Ethan slid his tongue along her lower lip, delving into her mouth, plunging inside to taste and plunder. It made her head spin. Only an hour before she had felt desolation at what had become of her. Now that misery and frustration fused into an anger so great it met and matched his. He ravaged her mouth and she kissed him back as fiercely and as furiously as he took her.

      She moved to straddle him on the seat of the carriage. She could feel the long hard ridge of his erection against her thigh and she pressed down on him and heard him groan.

      “This is what you bought,” she said against his mouth. “See if you like it.” She bit him, not gently. He jerked back, swearing, then rolled her over on the seat so that she was beneath him now, her legs tangled in a waterfall of silk and lace petticoats, his weight holding her down. She lay panting, looking up at him. He was breathing as hard as she, and there was a dark, feral light in his eyes.

      Ethan pushed the cloak off