‘I—’
‘I said turn around, Lisette.’
She swallowed at the implacability of his tone. ‘I believe this was not such a good idea—’
‘I am afraid you are a little too late in making that decision.’
Her heart fluttered in her chest. ‘Too late...?’
‘Turn,’ he instructed again harshly.
At some time in their conversation, Lisette realised, she had ceased being the antagonist and instead had become the hunted. And in a confined space such as this carriage, she had nowhere to run or hide.
Except, perhaps, behind her earlier anger and indignation?
‘Do not even attempt it, Lisette,’ the Duke growled in warning. ‘I was quite prepared to pass the time pleasantly on this journey to London, but instead I was first subjected to another of your lengthy and wholly undeserved rebukes, when it was Marcus who lifted you and put you in the carriage, not I. That was followed by another of your icy silences. I now believe you have traversed along a path from which there is no turning back.’
As Lisette had feared might be the case. ‘I am overly impetuous sometimes, Your Grace—’
‘It would seem that you are overly impetuous all the time, Lisette,’ he corrected impatiently. ‘A habit that needs to be curbed if we are to progress together.’
Lisette had no idea what that meant; there could not be much further to go on this journey to London, after which she was to be handed over to this man Maystone. She had no idea what was to become of her after that.
‘Turn around, Lisette!’
She tensed at Christian’s increasingly uncompromising tone, realising that she had pushed him too far with her taunting and curiosity, that there really was no ‘turning back’.
She quickly turned her back towards him. ‘You will not hurt me, Christian...?’ she ventured nervously as she felt those deft fingers unfastening the tiny buttons at the back of her gown.
‘I have not decided as yet,’ he answered her gruffly.
Lisette did not move as the unfastened bodice of her gown slid down her arms before falling about her knees as she still knelt on the seat between his parted thighs, leaving her dressed only in her chemise, drawers, stockings and slippers.
‘Now turn and face me.’
Lisette felt like a marionette as she slowly turned, face blazing with heat as Christian openly enjoyed staring at her breasts, the pleasurably hard pebbles of her nipples no doubt visible through the thin material of her chemise.
She wrapped her arms about her protectively. ‘I am cold—’
‘You are aroused,’ Christian corrected huskily, ‘which is not the same thing at all. Lower your arms, Lisette.’
She wanted to deny him, to berate him with her ready temper, but something in his eyes, a dark and unrelenting intensity, prevented her from doing so as she slowly, oh-so-slowly, lowered her arms instead.
‘Now slip the straps of your chemise off your shoulders.’
Lisette gasped, even as she felt her breasts swell and tingle in response to the instruction. ‘This cannot be at all correct, Christian— What is so funny?’ she demanded as he chuckled throatily.
He gave a shake of his head. ‘I do not believe you have done one “correct” thing since I first met you! Seeking me out in the darkness and coming back to my home with me. Running out into the street in the middle of the night, without hat or cloak, when you heard guns being fired.’ His voice had hardened perceptibly. ‘Driving my carriage as if you were born to it. Tending to not only my own wound but also Pierre’s. Sailing on a boat back to England with me completely unchaperoned. Spending a night at an inn with me under the same circumstances. And now travelling in a coach alone with me—’
‘That is most unfair!’ Lisette protested. ‘The circumstances under which we have so far been acquainted have not been conducive to—’
‘I am known for my patience, Lisette—indeed, I believe I am praised far and wide for it,’ Christian snapped impatiently. ‘You, however, have the ability to make me forget how to be patient, let alone behave the gentleman!’ With this last comment he reached out to grasp the flimsy material of the neckline of her chemise and with one sharp pull ripped it from top to bottom.
‘Christian!’ Lisette’s shocked gasp was accompanied by her raising her hands and placing them over her completely exposed breasts.
For once in their acquaintance Lisette was at a loss for words. Whether as the Comte de Saint-Cloud, the Duke of Sutherland or simply Christian, she did not appear to have any defences against this man.
‘I can smell your arousal, Lisette,’ he told her softly. ‘Yes,’ he insisted as she gasped in protest. ‘Peaches, or perhaps apricots, mixed with a musky wholly feminine smell.’