Wicked Seduction by Jade Lee Page B

Venboer. I sweated and bled for him. And I made sure others did the same. Ownership is a serious business, Miss Wilson. He should not make claims he cannot support.”
    Her expression shifted then. Frustration gave way to surprise and then a gentle sympathy. But she had no words for him. He could see her struggle to find something to say, but for the first time, he did not want to hear her voice. He didn’t want empty platitudes or inadequate words. So he stopped her with a touch on her arm.
    “He does not own you, Miss Wilson. Do not allow him to pretend that he does. All too soon it becomes fact whether you wish it or not.”
    She looked at where his hand rested on his arm. He didn’t know what that meant to her, but he saw his dark, slave’s tan against her white flesh. He saw the scars on his skin against her pristine softness. And he felt her gentle tremble through her skin.
    “I won’t,” she finally said. Then she looked at his face. “But now you have to leave.”
    “Would that pain you?”
    She bit her lip and didn’t answer. He could see the confusion in her eyes and knew that he had discomforted her. Likely she had never met a man as wild or bizarre as him in her entire life. That thought soured his mood, so he covered by reaching beneath the table to pull out his satchel. She blinked in surprise when he drew it out. Clearly she’d had no idea he’d kept it with him. But he’d be damned if he abandoned this bag to the maid—or the earl’s—prying eyes. It took him less than a second to draw out a Spanish gold coin and set it on the table before her.
    “I have wealth,” he said softly. “Just no English money.”
    “Put that away!” she hissed. “The staff is honest, but they’re not exactly trustworthy when gold is flashed.”
    He pushed it toward her. “It’s for you. Take it to a bank and exchange it for English sterling. A few coppers to the household account, and the rest for a new dress. As my thanks for helping me last night.”
    Her lips pressed tight as she looked at the coin. Then her body shrank away from it as if it were poison, and when she lifted her eyes to his, they were burning with fury.
    “You called me a mistress,” she said, her cultured voice in no way covering for her anger. “And now you seek to pay me with gold. I helped you out of Christian charity, Mr. Frazier.”
    “Christians cannot be paid? I assure you, the missionaries in Barbados certainly were.”
    “Well, I am not in Barbados. And I am certainly not any man’s mistress. So you will take your gold and you will be gone from this house as you promised. I begin to think you are much more savage than your clothes would suggest.”
    He arched a brow. “You have seen my scars, Miss Wilson. And you are only now thinking that?”
    She released her breath with a huff, but it in no way lessened the animosity in her eyes. “You are a puzzle, Mr. Frazier. One I do not care to solve.”
    His chin dipped in acknowledgment as he pushed his chair away from the table. “Then I will be off.” He picked up the coin off the table. “You should have a dress to replace the one I ruined last night. I will visit a bank today for English money, then make sure you are recompensed—”
    Her eyes flashed and he immediately adjusted his statement.
    “That the earl is recompensed for my night’s care.”
    She inclined her head. No queen could appear more regal. “I would be grateful for that, sir.”
    He caught her chin before she could pull back. Her skin was soft, but the bones were firm. Her lips parted on a gasp, and he found himself staring at the hot, wet center of her mouth.
    “Gratitude,” he murmured, “is not what I want.”
    Then he took a kiss. He couldn’t stop himself. But he did manage to keep from ravishing her mouth. He pressed his lips to hers and felt the heat of her breath as it invaded him. He touched his tongue to the seam of her mouth, wet the exquisite expanse of her lips in a single, long