The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

She raised her chin, managing to keep her mouth shut.

“You must take care, else you won’t see the view of the world that we ordinary mortals have. Ah, my manners. Would you care for refreshment? Perhaps some champagne?”

“No.”

“A lady who is not demanding. What a nice change. Now, what was I going to say? Oh, yes, I believe you told Lady Bellingham you wanted to enter the hallowed doors of Almack’s. I have secured vouchers, and will escort you, and, of course, Lady Bella, tomorrow evening.”

She trembled with indignation. She’d needed to be in London less than a week to know that his escort to Almack’s would be tantamount to announcing their betrothal. Indeed, an announcement in the Gazette would be expected to follow but a few days after such an appearance.

She turned on him, all thoughts of pleasant indifference gone. “How dare you. I wouldn’t dream of going to Almack’s with you. Never, do you hear me? Never. You can’t force me to go.”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, the picture of bewildered innocence, but he found he was looking at her breasts, pushed up by the tight banding beneath, very white and full breasts, beautiful breasts. His hands clenched. Dear God, he wanted her. He swallowed and shifted his position in his chair. He wanted her too damned much.

She was furious, he knew that, and he found it amusing, at least he did when he didn’t want to rip her clothes off her and make love to her right here in his theatre box, perhaps against the curtained wall. Ah, and those beautiful breasts of hers were heaving with fury.

She was hissing now, not wanting to wake up Lady Bellingham. “My lord, I don’t recall ever having evinced a desire to attend the dancing at Almack’s. And you know quite well what your escort would imply, indeed promise, to all present.”

It seemed to Kate at that moment that flickering lights shaped like tiny devils danced in his gray eyes. Her hands fisted. She raised her right hand, only to feel his fingers close about her wrist and pull her hand back down on her thigh. He held it there. She felt the heat of him, and that made her feel other things too, strange things that were frightening yet oddly tantalizing, but just for an instant. She tried again to free her fist from his grip.

He leaned close to her ear. “Now, my dear Kate, it wouldn’t be seemly for a lady to strike a gentleman in so public a place. I might have to exact retribution if you did. Besides, you don’t wish to embarrass your kind hostess.”

“I’m not your dear Kate, damn you.”

“Such language. However, I will accustom myself to it. Perhaps if you’re with me enough, we’ll improve upon your rather mild curses. And, dear Kate, you will soon be whatever I want you to be, very soon now.”

She felt the strength of purpose behind his words. She was very afraid.

She bit her lower lip and turned away from him. With an effort she forced herself to say in a calmer voice, “Why won’t you leave me alone? What is it you want of me?” A stupid question, she thought, hating herself, and quickly added, “I’ve told you I have no wish to wed anyone, not just you. I don’t ever wish to wed. Please, my lord, believe me and leave me in peace.”

He answered her in a low voice, without hesitation, “I care for you, Kate. If I really believed that you didn’t care for me, I would withdraw, though unwillingly, for it would mean a continued life of unhappiness for you with your father. But I can’t and I won’t believe you’re indifferent to me. I’ve watched you when you weren’t aware of it. Your eyes give you away, that and your response to my kiss. You quite enjoyed my touching you, caressing you.”

“I don’t wish to wed you, Julien, no matter the assumptions you have dared to make about my feelings.”

“But you will wed me.” His voice was very quiet, very firm.

“Your choice is a foolish one, Julien. You lie to yourself. It is only because I rejected you that you now want me. It is only your wounded man’s pride. Stop looking at me like that. How can you want a wife who doesn’t want you?”