Zachary Black: Duke of Debauchery. Carole Mortimer

with you, Georgianna,’ Zachary murmured with satisfaction, mocking her response, her undeniable arousal at his caress.

      An arousal which Zachary knew no woman could fabricate or control.

      As he had been unable to control his own arousal as he had lightly caressed the engorged tip of her breast.

      Despite her having run away from marrying him ten months ago, Zachary could not deny that he still physically desired this woman. In his bed, beneath him, to be buried to the hilt between her thighs.

      Try as he might, Zachary had found no explanation for that sudden clench of desire when he had looked at Georgianna Lancaster ten months ago, and he had none now, either. It was enough to know that it still existed.

      A weakness, in the current circumstances, best kept to himself.

      He stepped back abruptly. ‘As I said, I have other things to occupy me this morning, but I will go downstairs now and arrange a breakfast for you, and then I advise that you get some sleep.’

      ‘I am not hungry, nor shall I sleep.’

      Zachary’s eyes narrowed on her critically, noting the hollows in the paleness of her cheeks, her slenderness beneath the unbecoming black gown. ‘You are grown too slender.’

      ‘I said I am not hungry.’ Those violet-coloured eyes flashed again in warning.

      Another show of temper Zachary did not care for in the least, as he stepped deliberately closer to her, so close that he could see the way the pupils of her eyes expanded as she now looked up at him apprehensively.

      ‘Nevertheless, you will eat all of the breakfast I have brought up to you.’

      She maintained her ground even as a nerve pulsed rapidly at her throat, no doubt as evidence of her inner nervousness. ‘And I have said I shall not.’

      Once again Zachary felt that grudging admiration for her stubbornness; not too many people dared to stand against him, least of all women. She was a very young woman at that, and one who did not as yet appear to fully appreciate the danger she had placed herself in by choosing to step back into his life.

      He gave a slow and deliberate smile. ‘I advise you not to defy me, Georgianna.’

      She eyed him rebelliously. ‘Why should I not?’

      He gave a nonchalant shrug as he murmured softly, ‘Because I shall win and you will lose.’

      Georgianna repressed another shiver of apprehension as she heard the arrogant certainty in his voice. As she acknowledged that, through her own stupidity this time, Hawksmere now had her completely at his mercy. She was his prisoner, to do with as he wished.

      Hawksmere smiled confidently as he seemed to guess at least some of her thoughts. ‘I shall be locking you in here in my absence, of course, and taking the key with me. And I advise that you not bother giving yourself a sore throat, or knuckles, by screaming or shouting, or banging on the door for my servants to release you whilst I am gone,’ he added derisively. ‘I shall make sure to inform them, before I depart, that it is all part of the erotic play between the two of us, and that the more you ask to be set free the more you desire to stay here and await my return.’

      ‘You truly are a monster.’ Georgianna’s cheeks burned with humiliated colour.

      He shrugged. ‘I have never made any pretence of being anything else.’

      The implication being, Georgianna knew, that she was the one who had practised deceit, when she’d lied to her family and her betrothed in order to run away with André.

      And that Hawksmere believed she was lying to him even now.

      Except she was not. And Hawksmere’s decision to keep her locked up here, and his threats, did not change the fact that time was more the enemy than this arrogant duke. ‘You will speak to someone this morning on my behalf?’

      Hawksmere’s mouth thinned into an uncompromising line. ‘I have no plans to do so until the two of us have spoken again, no.’

      ‘But you must,’ Georgianna gasped desperately. ‘Napoleon...’

      ‘Enough, Georgianna,’ Hawksmere rasped his impatience with her persistence as he grasped her arms, his silver eyes as cold as ice as he looked down the length of his arrogant nose at her. ‘I have not had the opportunity to sleep, either, this past night, and my patience is now at an end.’

      ‘But...’

      ‘I said enough, Georgianna,’ he thundered.

      Tears blurred her vision. ‘You have every right to be angry with me, to despise me for my having ended our betrothal in the way that I did.’ She gave a weary shake of her head. ‘Take your revenge upon me any way you please. I do not care what you do to me, as long as you take my warnings seriously.’

      ‘And if it is my wish to claim your body, for your having run from me, from our betrothal, ten months ago?’ he taunted softly.

      She shook her head. ‘As long as you also listen to me in regards to Napoleon.’

      ‘One more mention of that man’s name and more pressing responsibilities be damned, I shall be forced to begin that punishment now!’ the duke warned darkly. ‘Now that I think about it, it might be best if I were to request that you remove your gown,’ he mused hardly. ‘You will be less likely to attempt an escape if you are half-naked.’

      ‘I will not take off my gown.’ Georgianna pulled out of his grasp to move quickly away from him, her hands held up defensively in front of her rapidly rising and falling chest.

      Zachary studied her through narrowed lids as he noted the wild panic in those beautiful violet-coloured eyes. Much like a deer the moment it realised it was caught in the sights of the hunter’s gun.

      All because he had asked her to remove her gown?

      Surely a woman who had shared one man’s bed for the past ten months would not be quite so averse to the idea of another man seeing her naked?

      Unless...

      ‘Did he hurt you?’ Zachary scowled darkly.

      That violet gaze sharpened. ‘What?’

      His mouth thinned. ‘Did Rousseau hurt you?’

      ‘Of course he hurt me! How could he not, when he used me to make good his escape?’

      ‘That is not the type of hurt I am referring to, Georgianna.’ Zachary took several steps towards her, coming to a halt as Georgianna shadowed those steps by moving back, until she was now pressed up against one of the velvet curtains hanging at the window. ‘I have no intentions of harming you, Georgianna.’

      She gave a choked and bitter laugh. ‘You have just threatened to take away my gown.’

      ‘And that is all I have threatened.’

      She gave a shudder. ‘It is enough!’

      Zachary’s eyes narrowed. ‘Some men like to give pain to their bed partner during lovemaking, as a way of heightening their own arousal.’

      She gasped. ‘Do you?’ Pale and slender fingers now tightly clasped at the throat of that unbecoming black gown as she stared at him with dark and shadowed eyes.

      ‘No, I most certainly do not,’ Zachary assured grimly. ‘But I am beginning to suspect that Rousseau did. Do you perhaps share his perversion?’

      ‘No!’

      ‘I am glad to hear it.’ Zachary’s eyes narrowed. ‘But has he left lasting marks upon your body you would not wish another man to see?’ he added harshly, surprised at how violent it made him feel to think of there being so much as a single bruise administered to that alabaster skin, let alone any lasting reminder of the man Rousseau.

      Georgianna breathed shallowly, not sure she understood all that Zachary Black was saying to her. Not sure she wanted to understand.