Regency Scandal. Кэрол Мортимер

the aroused flush in her cheeks and the swell of her breasts still visible to him, the sweet curve of her lips also slightly swollen from the passion of his kisses. ‘The answer to what is no?’ he queried gruffly.

      Her eyes widened with indignation. ‘Don’t attempt to play games with me, Stratton!’

      The demanding throbbing of his engorged shaft clearly stated that the only game which he wished to play was one where she was naked and horizontal and he was buried to the hilt between her silken thighs!

      He gave a frustrated sigh. ‘I truthfully have no idea what you’re talking about, Pandora.’

      Her eyes burned deeply purple. ‘Then let me state quite clearly, here and now, that I have no wish, either now or at any time in the future, to ever take up the dubious honour of becoming your next mistress!’

      Rupert was so stunned by this heartfelt avowal that his fingers loosened momentarily on the silkiness of her bare arm, allowing her to pull free and descend from the carriage before sweeping majestically through the open front door of her house, the butler closing it swiftly behind her, as he had no doubt been instructed to do.

      Rupert fell back against the upholstered seat of his carriage, too surprised still to do any more than that.

      Pandora believed that his invitation to the opera yesterday, his wishing to speak with her today, their kiss just now, all to be a precursor to him wanting her to become his mistress?

      Hell!

      He might have found that assumption amusing, and her response to it even more so, if it was not also damned insulting! And what had she meant by calling it a dubious honour?

      ‘Do you wish to return to Stratton House now, your Grace?’

      Rupert looked blankly at his patiently waiting groom for several seconds, before reason finally returned and his resolve firmed. ‘No, by God, I do not!’ He surged out of the carriage on to the cobbled street. ‘Wait here, Gregson.’ He glanced up grimly at the windows of Pandora’s home. ‘I may be some time.’

      Pandora had barely had the time to march up the staircase, enter her restored and tidy bedchamber and remove her bonnet, before the door behind her was suddenly thrown open and an obviously incensed Rupert filled the open doorway. ‘What on earth—?’

      ‘For your information, madam …’ he slammed her bedchamber door shut behind him and began walking steadily, stealthily, towards her ‘… it is usual to wait until one is asked before one refuses.’

      Pandora, having backed against her dressing table, now held her hands up protectively in front of her as she stared at him with wide, apprehensive eyes. He came to a halt just inches in front of her, his height and the powerful width of his muscled shoulders looming over intimidatingly. ‘I did not— I had thought—’

      ‘No, madam,’ he bit out between gritted, even, white teeth, ‘I don’t believe you gave any thought at all to this situation before insulting me so soundly.’

      Pandora didn’t even pretend not to know what he meant. ‘Genevieve agrees with me that it’s obvious by your attentions towards me these past two days that it’s your intention to ask me to be your mistress.’

      ‘Flattered as I am that you’ve discussed me so intimately with your friend—’ the iciness of his tone clearly indicating the opposite ‘—I have to inform the pair of you that the conclusions you’ve drawn regarding my recent so-called “attentions” are totally in error.’

      ‘Oh …’ Pandora had never felt so humiliated. So utterly and completely devastated with the emotion that she wished she might crawl away and hide somewhere. Anywhere. An option clearly not open to her when Rupert continued to loom over her so ominously. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, an action that glittering silver gaze followed exclusively. ‘I apologise if I have caused you insult, your Grace—er—Rupert,’ she amended as those furious silver eyes narrowed in dire warning. ‘It was not my intention to do so. I merely wished to—’

      ‘Refuse the dubious honour of becoming my mistress before I felt compelled to voice it.’

      She had said that, Pandora acknowledged with an inward wince. A remark which he’d obviously taken exception to. ‘Well. That is … Of course, I’m sure that many women would be deeply flattered to so much as be considered—’

      ‘Oh, give it up, Pandora,’ he bit out harshly. ‘And accept that there’s no going back from your insult to me.’

      Her wince was outward this time. ‘I was angry when I made that remark—’

      ‘Because you had assumed I meant to insult you by making such an offer!’ A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw.

      ‘Well … yes. Rupert, do you think perhaps you might … move away slightly?’ Her neck was starting to ache from looking up at him towering over her so threateningly. Indeed, he seemed to have swallowed up all the air in the room, making it impossible for her to breathe!

      ‘No.’

      She blinked at his uncompromising tone. ‘You are in my bedchamber uninvited, sir,’ she attempted to rally. ‘For the second time in as many days. The least you could do is cease these attempts to intimidate me.’

      Rupert gave her accusation some thought, decided that perhaps she was right and he was guilty of intimidation and took a single step back. ‘Better?’ he challenged.

      ‘It is a … slight improvement, yes,’ she allowed with a small sigh.

      He felt some of his initial anger began to fade as he considered the amusement of their present situation instead. Pandora Maybury, with her unusual beauty, golden curls and mesmerising violet eyes, had minutes ago insulted him and his honour, more roundly, more completely, than any other living person. Perhaps because any gentleman who had ever dared to speak to him like that would have very quickly found himself at the other end of Rupert’s duelling pistols.

      His amusement faded somewhat as he recalled that to have indeed been the fate of Pandora’s husband and her lover …

      He moved away from her until he stood with his back to the room, looking out of the window into the street below. His carriage and four still stood on the cobbles below, waiting to take him back to Stratton House, an option he would perhaps be wise to take.

      If not for the presence of the woman who awaited him there …

      His shoulders stiffened with renewed resolve as he turned back to face the now cautiously watchful Pandora. ‘Contrary to general belief, the offer I intend making to you is not of becoming my mistress—but my wife!’