“Not everyone in this house is kin to you. There are servants, are there not? And the occasional guest.”
She snorted. “Such as yourself? Is it fair to call you a guest? You’re constantly underfoot.”
“Well, you have made it your mission to remind me that I’m not a part of your family, so what else am I if not a guest?”
“Your unsavory reputation withstanding, I have nothing to fear from you.”
“No? You’re awfully confident in me.” He advanced a step. “How uncharacteristic for you to have faith in my ability to behave as a gentleman.”
She snorted. “I know very well I’m not the sort of woman to interest you.”
“True,” he agreed, forcing himself not to let his gaze rove over her again and disprove his words.
Her nostrils flared and he knew he’d offended her. Which was preferable to her knowing that he actually did find her appealing.
“And yet,” he added, “I imagine another man might not feel as I do.”
“Oh, indeed? A man ‘might’ exist to perceive me—wretched cow that I am—in a favorable light? Are you certain about that?” She made a sound of disgust and then stormed around him.
He grabbed her arm and forced her back to face him. “Don’t presume to know what I think.”
“I know your opinion of me.” He backed her up until she bumped the wall. She could not escape without touching him—a fact of which she was clearly aware. She pressed herself as far back as possible, her gaze skimming the breadth of his shoulders and chest before snapping back to his face.
“You know very well the effect you have on men. You had a table of men panting for you at Sodom. You took their clothes, their dignity. They gave it gladly. All for the chance to have a taste of you. I haven’t forgotten that.”
Her eyes widened. He’d flustered her by flinging that at her—by speaking of that night. Good.
He took a step closer, until the wall of his chest brushed hers. His attention fixed on her mouth. That plump bottom lip jutted out and the insane urge to take it between his teeth seized him. It still aggravated him. That she had turned into this—a temptation he had not seen coming.
“Can it be?” he taunted. “Aurelia at a loss for words? Impossible. Let us mark this day.”
She opened her mouth, gaping like a little fish. It was tempting to step closer. To feel those breasts against his chest, the nipples pressing into him like scorching points.
“You’re soused,” she accused, her nostrils flaring as she smelled the liquor on him.
“I’ve had a brandy or two.” Or five.
“Clearly, you’ve had one too many or you wouldn’t corner me here like this. I’m not one of your giggling tarts—”
“Of that I am painfully aware, Lady Aurelia. They know what to do with their mouths, and it isn’t talk.”
Bloody hell. Even in the dim glow of the corridor, he did not mistake the rush of color to her cheeks and throat. He blinked once, hard, as he considered that blush, wondering how far it extended beneath her night rail. Would it reach her breasts? Her belly? The dip of her navel? The insides of her thighs? He ground his cock into the soft slope of her stomach. Her breath caught in a sound that resembled a moan. A shudder racked him.
“But then you aren’t so innocent, are you? You’ve been to Sodom.”
She shook her head, but he couldn’t stop. With her, he could never stop. Never back down.