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Authors: Michele Sinclair

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BOOK: A Woman Made for Pleasure
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“What is my name?” he growled in her ear, supporting her limp frame in his arms.
He delved his hands into Millie’s hair and pulled her head back. She looked at him, her eyes sparkling like large amethysts. Chase felt his whole body tighten. “What is my name?” he asked again, his voice husky with need.
It took several seconds for his words to penetrate her drugged state. “Charles,” she murmured and then rested her forehead against his chest.
“Never forget it,” he whispered, holding her close.
Though still reeling from the kiss, his arrogant command rankled as her head slowly cleared. Millie pushed back and squared her shoulders, faking indignation. “What were you trying to prove?” she asked, trying to sound displeased.
An unmistakable smile mixed with satisfaction and possession tipped the corners of Chase’s mouth. Her attempt at an icy stare did nothing to diminish his pleasure at hearing his name. She had called him Charles. “Just reminding you of who I am, love. Go greet your pompous guest, but
he
had better remember who
I
am.”
Millie did not move. Chase was acting too self-satisfied. “And just who are you,
my lord
?”
Chase drew her close again. “Who I have always been. Your protector,” he said, leaning down to brush his mouth possessively across hers. Releasing her lips, he turned and descended the staircase, exiting out the back door. For several moments, Millie futilely tried to digest what had just happened. Giving up, she again headed toward her room to prepare for her treacherous guest, Lord Marston.
 
 
Chase watched from across the hall as Millie glided gracefully into the drawing room to meet Marston. She had prepared herself quickly, but the results were remarkable. Donned in a simple dove-colored half dress with white Vandyke trim on the puffed sleeves and along the short train, she looked incredibly alluring and untouchable at the same time. Her dark hair was swept up high in a simple knot, intentionally allowing several soft curls to escape.
Even from his semi-concealed vantage point, Chase could see Lord Marston’s favorable appraisal as he greeted her, kissed her hands, and smiled quite charmingly, before the door was closed. Unfamiliar emotions—intense and dark—raced through Chase’s veins, along with a powerful need to protect. He despised Marston. He was vain, shallow, unfaithful, and one of the most dishonorable noblemen Chase had ever known.
Chase had fully intended to go riding when he left Millie on the rear stairs, but when he came back in to retrieve his gloves, he had spied her descending the main staircase. Ignoring his internal counsel, he surreptitiously followed her to the drawing room. Deep down, he knew Millie had no tendre for Marston. No, she had been truthful earlier. Her interest in the handsome blackguard spawned from very different reasons than that of lust. Reasons unknown to him.
Witnessing Marston’s physically demonstrative greeting, Chase decided to put his riding plans on hold. He convinced himself he needed to know why Millie had agreed to the social call, but more importantly, he wanted to ensure she did not fall into one of Marston’s scandalous traps. He cracked open the door and covertly positioned himself to listen and discover her plans.
Millie’s voice was warm and inviting. “Lord Marston, I cannot tell you how surprised I was this morning to receive your request for a visit.”
“My lady, I hope not unpleasantly surprised. I believe I expressed a desire to liven your stay here in London.”
Marston’s veiled suggestion of continued companionship made Chase’s insides knot.
“Oh? And how would you enhance someone’s holiday while in Town?” Millie’s tenor was that of a perfect hostess asking an innocent and commonplace question.
“May I suggest a ride tomorrow?”
Millie scrunched up her nose. The excursion was exactly what she desired, but after what happened in the stables, she wanted to ride only with Chase—not this slick nobleman oozing charm. It was obvious Marston wanted to be in her good graces for a reason, but what could it be?
Marston misinterpreted her unenthusiastic facial expression. “My lady—Millie—you do not have to be afraid. I have the perfect mare for you. She is very small, like you, and extremely gentle.”
Millie could not help her reaction as her eyebrows shot up in complete horror. She swallowed and moved to sit down in an isolated chair that prevented him from sitting next to her. “And I suppose you are going to assure me this mare has no capacity for speed.”
Marston moved to sit on a light-blue velvet settee across from her. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. “You have my absolute promise of her submissive nature. I do not think the little animal could even trot faster than I could run. There now, does that reassure you?”
Millie held her breath and stared with hooded eyes for several moments at the man who was obviously well practiced in deceitfulness. Again, he insulted her by underestimating her nature and her abilities. First at cards and now at riding.
The thought of being on a small, pathetically slow animal was worse than not riding at all. Despite her desire to get outdoors and discover Marston’s true purpose in seeking her out, Millie found it easy to decline. “While tempting, my lord, I am afraid I must refuse your offer. In spite of your assurances to the contrary, I just cannot see me on top of a
small
horse.”
Relief flooded through Chase. When Millie had not turned Marston down immediately, he wondered if she was going to accept. Since her arrival in Town, she had been unable to persuade a chaperone to join her in the permissible things she loved to do, such as ride. If Millie was not provided an acceptable means of entertainment soon, she would seek adventures where Chase feared he could not protect her.
Chase refocused his attention on the conversation, realizing Marston was not deterred by her refusal.
“I understand, and do not trouble yourself regarding your fear of riding. I spoke to Lady Alstar earlier this week, and I understand that you have accepted her invitation to Saturday’s ball.”
Marston’s demeanor and tone had changed. In a heartbeat, he went from an affable man relying on his charm and dashing good looks to one significantly more aggressive. He was taking control of the conversation. Millie recognized the change but had no idea how to stop him. “Well, uh, yes . . .” She stood and moved toward the window in hopes to put some distance between them.
As if realizing her intentions, Marston immediately rose and followed her. “Lady Millie, if I cannot persuade you to ride with me, I must insist you allow me to escort you to Alstar’s ball this Saturday.”
He stood very close, using his height to intimidate her. It was an obvious maneuver employed by men who were either extremely insecure or closet tyrants. In the past, when gentlemen callers performed such ploys, she quickly denounced their behavior, which normally resulted in the offender’s humiliation. But with Marston, Millie instinctively knew it would not be wise to summarily cut off the man’s heavy-handed approach. He was different. Marston didn’t want
her
per se, but something she could give him. And he would continue his insistent pursuit until he had what he wanted. She was both fearful and curious to know what it was.
“Lord Marston . . .”
“Call me Neville, Millie.”
It was a command, not a request. And he had used her given name again without permission. Everything she knew about noblemen was based on the principle that they behaved as gentlemen, especially in the presence of higher-bred ladies. Marston might be of noble birth, but he was no gentleman, and Millie had not a clue how to regain control of the conversation and situation.
Unable to see Marston’s looming stance, Chase had continued to let the conversation play out, although he could hear the apprehension growing in Millie’s voice. But when he heard Marston’s latest demand, a fierce wave of protection took over, and he stepped into the room.
“Lady Mildred, my mother wanted me to remind you that I will be escorting you to Alstar’s this Saturday. She expects all of us to attend and travel together. Please coordinate the exact time of our departure with her.”
There was no room for misinterpretation. Chase was going to escort Millie Saturday—not Marston. Chase knew his timing was obvious but did not care. And looking at the relief in Millie’s eyes, he was positive she did not care, either. The only one who did mind was standing near the window, livid at the intrusion and disruption of his plans.
Marston watched as the dark-haired vixen and Chaselton exchanged looks. He had been right about Lady Mildred Aldon. The interruption at Vauxhall Gardens had been no accident. Chaselton was definitely more interested in the beauty than he let on. Marston had been dithering as to whether Chase’s interest was strong enough to be used to his advantage, but now he knew for sure. Marston opened his stance, to be less confrontational. He needed to present himself as someone harmless.
Millie watched Chase stride into the room, his power and authority permeating the room. His amber eyes captured hers. Millie could feel the heat rise in her cheeks at his look of cool possessiveness. Her lips curved into a tentative smile conveying her gratitude.
“Certainly, my lord. I will meet with your mother this afternoon to discuss, uh, the details,” Millie replied, using the opportunity to distance herself from Marston’s overbearing company. Now standing next to Chase, she felt much less the ensnared animal in a well-laid trap. She gestured toward Marston, who stood scowling in the corner. “Let me introduce . . .”
Marston interrupted her. “Chaselton and I are old acquaintances.”
Chase locked eyes with the man. Untold words were spoken during the seconds they exchanged stares. “Marston.”
“It appears you have the privilege of escorting this charming woman to Saturday’s main event. I hope I have the pleasure of such duties in the future.”
Over my dead body
, thought Chase. “It may prove to be difficult. It has taken me eight years to acquire the chance. I doubt I will be willing to relinquish the privilege so very soon.”
If ever
, Chase thought.
“I see,” said Marston. “Well, Lady Aldon, let me detain you no further this afternoon. Although I do hope Lord Chaselton will not monopolize all your attentions this weekend. I meant what I said earlier in regard to providing you the freedom to pursue your, um, ‘inclinations.’” Marston then quickly waved his hand in a flowery motion as he bowed and then pushed through the drawing room doors.
Millie took several retreating steps as she saw golden flames of anger flicker in Chase’s eyes.
“Care to explain Marston’s last comment? In fact, do you care to explain
any
of what he just said?” Chase asked sharply.
Millie’s jaw tensed and her lavender eyes flashed in response to his challenge. “No, I would not.” She straightened her shoulders and headed toward the back doors to leave the room.
In four steps, Chase caught Millie by the shoulders, whirling her around to face him. “I suggest you change your mind.”
Millie struggled for composure. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, causing her to tremble violently. His cold eyes sniped at her, and Millie’s instinct was to flee. But she knew the only way she was going to escape was to tell Chase the truth—or at least some of it. “Earlier, before today, Lord Marston and I discussed the absence of excitement in London life. He offered to alleviate my boredom. He . . .” Millie paused to lick her lips and gather fortitude. “He was the one who mentioned Vauxhall Gardens. Today he offered to take me riding. And do not pretend you are unaware of what I am referring to—I know you were listening. Bloody hell, Lord Marston knew you were listening, the way you barged in here.”
Understanding her motives, Chase’s voice warmed a few degrees. His amber eyes softened as they drank in her proud, delicate face. “I know, but Marston excels at trapping women in difficult situations, one of which he was well on his way to entangling you into. Or had you intended to go to Alstar’s ball with him?” Chase asked, knowing the answer.
Millie bristled at the idea. “Of course I had no intention of letting him escort me. I was just trying to summon a way of refusing his offer without raising his ire.”
A swift shadow of possession took over Chase’s expression. “What do you care if his ire was raised? What are you up to, Mildred Aldon?” he asked roughly.
Millie shrugged and twisted her hands unconsciously. “I do not know exactly. But I think Lord Marston has some ulterior motive driving him toward me, and I want to know what that is.”
Standing so close to her, Chase’s dissipating anger was being replaced with a renewed desire to pull her back into his arms. There was no mysterious reason behind Marston’s motives. Lust. And Chase found the idea of another man besides himself craving
his
ethereal beauty intolerable. If he found it near impossible to quash the rush of sexual need her presence stirred in him, he had no doubt that Marston did as well. He decided to take measures to ensure the man kept his distance from Millie.
Chase reached out and wound a loose lock of her hair in his hand. “Maybe the fact that you are an incredibly beautiful woman is his reason.”
BOOK: A Woman Made for Pleasure
4.31Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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