her immobile, as if her strength were no more than a kitten’s. In rising panic she fought to avoid his lips, but he quickly stilled her with a hand at her head. He slid his tongue along the full curve of her lower lip with an expertise that made her gasp. Then he forced entry between her startled lips.
Lilliane could not breathe. She could not think or even marshal her frozen body to react. His tongue was heated velvet, plundering her mouth with an intensity that left her confused and weak. She felt his hand move to the small of her back and press her close against his hard frame. As he molded her body against his, so did he seem almost to mold her will to his own.
But Lilliane would not submit to him so easily. In impotent rage she pounded on his shoulders, pushing against his superior strength. She kicked at his shins, but he only moved his hand to her buttocks and lifted her clear of the floor. And all the while he deepened the kiss until his tongue was searching out her own.
Lilliane was helpless against such an onslaught. Her struggles were futile and indeed, with the intimate press of his hard-muscled body against hers, she found it almost impossible to think. Her mind cried in protest at such an uncivilized handling, but in her belly a languid heat was robbing her muscles of the ability to fight any longer. Like a fever it seemed to overwhelm her, spreading its deceptive heat until she was limp in his arms and pliant beneath his kiss.
His hold seemed to change then. His hands became gentle, stroking up her back as he held her pressed to him. His lips became less demanding and more enticing, teasing her mouth into a freer acceptance of his tongue. She was not conscious of curling her fingers around the smooth kersey of his tunic, nor of the softening of her mouth under his.
But when her tongue crept forward to meet his, she was wholly aware of the exquisite pleasure that seemed to fill her entire being. She felt almost as if she had melted into a hot, glowing version of her cold, former self. It was terrifying to lose such control. It was terrifying but it was fascinating. And she would have more …
“Where are your protests now?” Corbett whispered in her ear as he nibbled seductively at her lobe.
Lilliane fought for her breath and her reason as he continued his assault on her senses. “Let me down,” she managed to gasp.
“You’ll have to loosen your hold of my tunic, then,” he pointed out.
Horrified at her own wantonness, Lilliane released his tunic at once. He obligingly lowered her to the ground, but before he released her he pulled her close against him. Lilliane could clearly feel the thickening beneath his braies pressed hard against her belly, and she tried to squirm away. But his slow grin seemed to mock her as he stared at her appraisingly.
“You say you despise me but …” He shrugged. “Still, it is of no matter. You may dread our marriage above all things, but your father and I have already agreed.” He paused and his eyes became cool and sardonic. “You will become my wife on the morrow.”
He released her then and she stumbled back a few paces. He was so unfeeling, Lilliane thought. So completely indifferent to how she felt. She wanted to cry but pride held her back. Then as if she might erase the disturbing feel of him from her, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Perhaps I shall become your wife,” she muttered. “But I shall hate you just the same!”
Her eyes were brilliant with repressed tears as she watched a frown darken his face. When he spoke again his voice was low and calm, but she did not mistake the sarcasm rampant in it.
“We shall see. But mark my words, Lily, you will not rid yourself of my taste or my touch in so easy a fashion.” He turned to go, then paused and swept her with an icy look. “But if you truly find me so offensive, you need only close your eyes and imagine it is your pretty William who stirs you to such heat!”
Then with a
Lilliane could not breathe. She could not think or even marshal her frozen body to react. His tongue was heated velvet, plundering her mouth with an intensity that left her confused and weak. She felt his hand move to the small of her back and press her close against his hard frame. As he molded her body against his, so did he seem almost to mold her will to his own.
But Lilliane would not submit to him so easily. In impotent rage she pounded on his shoulders, pushing against his superior strength. She kicked at his shins, but he only moved his hand to her buttocks and lifted her clear of the floor. And all the while he deepened the kiss until his tongue was searching out her own.
Lilliane was helpless against such an onslaught. Her struggles were futile and indeed, with the intimate press of his hard-muscled body against hers, she found it almost impossible to think. Her mind cried in protest at such an uncivilized handling, but in her belly a languid heat was robbing her muscles of the ability to fight any longer. Like a fever it seemed to overwhelm her, spreading its deceptive heat until she was limp in his arms and pliant beneath his kiss.
His hold seemed to change then. His hands became gentle, stroking up her back as he held her pressed to him. His lips became less demanding and more enticing, teasing her mouth into a freer acceptance of his tongue. She was not conscious of curling her fingers around the smooth kersey of his tunic, nor of the softening of her mouth under his.
But when her tongue crept forward to meet his, she was wholly aware of the exquisite pleasure that seemed to fill her entire being. She felt almost as if she had melted into a hot, glowing version of her cold, former self. It was terrifying to lose such control. It was terrifying but it was fascinating. And she would have more …
“Where are your protests now?” Corbett whispered in her ear as he nibbled seductively at her lobe.
Lilliane fought for her breath and her reason as he continued his assault on her senses. “Let me down,” she managed to gasp.
“You’ll have to loosen your hold of my tunic, then,” he pointed out.
Horrified at her own wantonness, Lilliane released his tunic at once. He obligingly lowered her to the ground, but before he released her he pulled her close against him. Lilliane could clearly feel the thickening beneath his braies pressed hard against her belly, and she tried to squirm away. But his slow grin seemed to mock her as he stared at her appraisingly.
“You say you despise me but …” He shrugged. “Still, it is of no matter. You may dread our marriage above all things, but your father and I have already agreed.” He paused and his eyes became cool and sardonic. “You will become my wife on the morrow.”
He released her then and she stumbled back a few paces. He was so unfeeling, Lilliane thought. So completely indifferent to how she felt. She wanted to cry but pride held her back. Then as if she might erase the disturbing feel of him from her, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Perhaps I shall become your wife,” she muttered. “But I shall hate you just the same!”
Her eyes were brilliant with repressed tears as she watched a frown darken his face. When he spoke again his voice was low and calm, but she did not mistake the sarcasm rampant in it.
“We shall see. But mark my words, Lily, you will not rid yourself of my taste or my touch in so easy a fashion.” He turned to go, then paused and swept her with an icy look. “But if you truly find me so offensive, you need only close your eyes and imagine it is your pretty William who stirs you to such heat!”
Then with a
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