Dark One Rising(8)

She had promised her brother that she would give it an hour or two, and she had started counting down the minutes as soon as she entered the hall. Dinner was almost over and people would be taking to the dance floor soon. She frowned inside. She hated that the most. It was the perfect opportunity for the men to touch her inappropriately and whisper in her ear, without anyone the wiser. As soon as the remnants of the meal were cleared, she would try to slip out without anyone noticing.

She waited a half hour more, then as her father was having a conversation with an earl to his right, she slipped away. She was almost to the door when a hand grabbed her shoulder, not roughly, but firm. She turned to whoever was foiling her escape and looked up into the face of the Duke of Xenos. He was dressed in gray hosen, with a black leather sleeveless doublet and white ruffled shirt. He had black leather riding gloves tucked in his belt, and his black leather boots were polished. He smiled down at her in a charming way, but she knew better. She did not smile back and said nothing.

“Running off so soon, Your Highness. The festivities have only just begun.”

“I’m not feeling all that well, Your Grace. I feel I should lie down for a while.”

His smile turned to a sneer, his dark eyes piercing through her. “I’m sorry to hear that, Your Highness. Maybe all you require is a bit of soothing from a gentle hand.” He rubbed his fingers up her arm and then touched her cheek. A shiver went up her spine, but it was not from pleasure. She took a deep breath, calming herself. She knew all about him. He was callous and crass and quick to temper. He had plenty of mistresses, but none that kept him satisfied enough to marry. She knew he was looking, and she had heard his aim had been on her for some time. She refused to let him shake her.

“Tempting as that is, My Lord,” she answered pleasantly, “I believe sleep is all I require.”

“It’s impolite to leave your own party before well wishers have had time to celebrate you further with dances and toasts. Perhaps a drink or two would alleviate your ills, and you could find your strength once again to dance. I would be honored if you would permit me to lead you around the floor for a tune, or two.” He hooked her arm with his and tried to steer her back to the open floor of the hall. She pulled back. “I don’t wish to insult you, My Lord, but I don’t wish to dance with you, and I do not feel well enough even if I did.”

He leaned over so that he could get close enough to whisper in her ear. “There are some who think that you are just a tease. A woman who will lure men in with her charms and then push them away once they are ready to satisfy you. I think that you just haven’t had the touch of the right man yet. You will not be able to hide behind your skirts forever, Melenthia. Soon they will be pushed up and someone will have you, whether you want it or not. Teasing only causes men to get angry, and someone, one of these days, will take what they want. You have been unspoiled for too long. I imagine you are getting hot now, just by me talking about it.” He moved his hand between her legs, the layered skirts of her dress the only protection from his touch. He moved his other hand down her arm and slid it toward her waist. He swung it around her body and pulled her in to him and held tight so that she could not get away. “Can you feel it? I want you in the worst way. I’m already, just being next to you, starting to feel the heat rise in me. I could take you here and now if we were not in public. Maybe I should accompany you upstairs to your chamber and take away whatever ills you might be feeling. I think your fever is your desperate need to have a man satisfy you.”

She moved her free hand and slapped him. He backed away, but only a little, then grabbed her again by the arm, this time hurting her.

“Don’t tease me, Your Highness. I don’t like it.”

“You came on to me when I only wished to retire for the evening, by myself.”

He squeezed harder, pressing his leg up against her.

“Let go. You’re hurting me.”

“I will have you, Melenthia, one way or another. You can either give yourself willingly to me, or I will just take you. It’s your choice of course, but willingly will get you the least hurt.”

Kevaan glanced her way from across the room. He saw the look on her face and the one on Fallon’s. He excused himself from the conversation he was having and came over to her quickly, now trapped in the doorway by Fallon’s body. He placed a firm hand on Fallon’s shoulder and leaned in. “Is there something going on here I should know about?”

“No. This is a conversation between me and Melenthia. It doesn’t concern you, Kevaan.”