A Lady Never Tells(102)
“Are you mad? What does it matter? We’re talking about your lives here!” He strode over to her, color high on his cheekbones, his eyes bright. “You could have been killed! Don’t you care? Doesn’t it matter that your sisters could have been killed too?”
Mary sucked in a harsh breath, an answering anger surging up in her chest. “Don’t you dare say that! I have looked after my sisters all our lives. Nothing matters more to me than they do.”
She pivoted and marched away. He hurried after her, catching up to her in front of the summerhouse. He grabbed her arm, jerking her through the door into the privacy of the small structure.
“Then why in the bloody hell did you run out here with them?” He was still carrying the blanket, and he flung it down on the floor of the round room, letting out an oath. “Don’t you realize what might have happened? He could have hurt you, kidnapped you. He could have murdered you all!”
“I sincerely doubt that.” Mary faced him, her hands on her hips. “If you will notice, none of those things happened. We considered the possibility that he could be around here, but it seemed unlikely.” She ignored the snort of derision he let out. “We took reasonable precautions. It was daytime, and we were on the alert. There were four of us. It’s difficult for one man to kill four people. Even if he’d had a pistol in each hand, he would have had to reload.”#p#分页标题#e#
“So you’re only risking two of your lives.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We took our pistols, and Camellia is an excellent shot. She shot him . Twice. If you were more interested in catching him than in braying about your authority over us, you might send some men to search the area where he ran away. There are probably traces of his blood that could be tracked.”
“Braying about my authority! Bloody hell, woman, do you think I care about my authority? About my control over you?”
“That certainly seems to be what’s concerned you the last day or two—where we go, when we go, who we go with. We’re supposed to ask your permission before we escape the prison of that house. We can’t walk except in the upper gardens. Lady Sabrina kindly offers to take us somewhere, and you object. What is any of that about except your desire to rule everyone?”
“You could have been killed! When they told me where you had gone, I started out here to make sure nothing happened to you. Halfway here, I heard screams and shots. I thought you had been killed. I was afraid that when I got out here, I’d find your lifeless body lying on the ground. And you accuse me of being worried about my authority!”
He took two steps and grabbed her by the arms, staring down into her face with burning eyes. “Damn it, Mary, you will drive me mad.”
Mary stood her ground, staring back at him. She could feel the heat radiating from him and see the fire in his eyes. It matched the flames that danced in her own chest, the frustration and anger that made her blood sizzle through her veins. She wanted to lash out, to hit him, to scream, to … Her eyes flickered down to his mouth.
In the next instant, she was crushed against his chest, his arms like iron around her, his lips sinking into hers in a bruising kiss. They melded together, lips fused and bodies pressing into each other’s all the way up and down. Mary’s fingers dug into the back of Royce’s shirt, balling up the material in her eager fists. She wanted, wildly, to sink into his flesh and merge with him, to lose herself in him.
Royce’s hands went to her hair, pulling it loose from its pins and sending it cascading down, filling his hands and tumbling over her shoulders. Sinking his fingers into the soft mass, he kissed her until she was breathless.
Mary was falling into the vortex of his passion, spinning and tumbling, and she clung to Royce as the only steady thing in this suddenly chaotic world. He kissed her again and again as his fingers made their way down the back of her dress, undoing the row of buttons. Her dress fell open and his hands slid inside, roaming over her back, her skin separated from his questing fingers by only the thin lawn of her chemise.
He trailed kisses down her throat, murmuring her name, and her dress slid from her shoulders, catching at her wrists. Impatiently, Mary pulled the sleeves over her hands and let the frock drop to the floor. Royce raised his head, his eyes darkening as his gaze drifted down her.
His breath rasped in his throat as he took the bow of her chemise and tugged gently. The ribbon slipped undone, the top of the chemise sagging open. Mary watched him, her own eyes gleaming with the same intensity as his. The desire in his face filled her with satisfaction, even joy; she wanted to see the fire of passion consume him.