Mikhail’s mind blanked for long seconds, and something akin to panic clawed from the back of his throat. He pushed it down and narrowed in on the evident pain she tried to bury. It could not have been easy being jilted and facing the censure of society. “Not all men are dishonorable, and those who are belong to both high and low society in equal measure.”
Her eyes flashed fire, and she held up her hand. “I have met many lords, and I daresay I can say with confidence I know less than five men who are true gentlemen. At first I was coveted for my wealth, maybe my beauty, but never for my intelligence and accomplishments. After I was jilted I received several invitations from men to be their mistresses. My worth was lowered in their eyes because one of their own no longer thought I was suitable for marriage. I will admit being a part of the haute monde was exciting initially, but then I realized it would never end—the balls, the gossip, the careful masking of oneself so as not to offend. As long as I married a man of the haute monde…I too would be subject to their infernal rules and hypocrisy.”
Understanding scythed through him. Most of his appeal was because he presented as common. She really had no interest in his wealth, or that he was seemingly connected to as notable a family as the Calydons. The notion was so startling it rendered Mikhail silent and, instead of filling him with pleasure, unease settled heavy in his gut. He had never met a young lady who did not yearn for a title. The entire success of their coming out in society depended on securing an advantageous match, the loftier the title the better, the more yearly income the better.
“And what would be your opinion of me, if I confessed to possessing several titles and that I am far wealthier than most of the lords you know?” He kept the tension from his voice, hoping she would view his question as mild curiosity.
She lifted startled golden eyes to his and then chuckled. “I would urge you to reconsider calling on me for, though your kisses are sublimely wonderful, I yearn for a life without the glitter of high society.”
He clenched his jaw against her assertions, burying the snarl of denial. Her words were said teasingly, but her voice rang with sincerity. “You must yearn for wealth,” he murmured, his heart beating more frantically than he would like. He was a damn prince. He should be cool and unflappable at all times.
“I do not.”
“Damn it to hell.” The snarl ripped from him, and she jerked, her eyes widening.
“Mikhail, I—”
“No…tell me what it is that you want from life. What do you need? A title or a lack of title does not define a man or a relationship. Whether I am the blasted king, or the poorest of commoner, you would have expectations of me…as a man, as your man. Tell me what those expectations are,” he ended hoarsely, unable to tolerate the idea that the only woman he’d ever wanted, ever craved to feel her touch, would reject him because of his blasted titles. The feelings of wanting something more had been tentative, but now the thought of really experiencing a life more profound, and not encased in an emotionless shell, made his teeth ache with the need to attain.
I want to know how to please you, to chain you to me, so when I reveal my nobility you will see that you will want for nothing.
A streak of rebellion glowed in her eyes. “I want to wear trousers and ride in London if I wish without judgment. Connie’s husband, the Duke of Mondvale, owns the gaming club Decadence, and I confessed to wanting to see inside. I was scolded as if I were a child and not a woman who could speak her mind and offer her opinions freely. I want to be loved…admired…respected for all I am, and not be ridiculed if I push the boundaries of the conventions instituted by a hypocritical society.”
She gave a disdainful sniff. “I do not want to be told I cannot because I am not a man. Do you know how frustrating it is to never be able to feel as if I have choices? In the quiet moments when I spoke of wanting to write, I was scoffed at. When I showed my illustrations I was looked down on, not celebrated as I had hoped.”
Her golden eyes flashed as she shifted on the bench to face him fully, leaning so close their lips brushed. “I…I…want to kiss you, to feel your hands on my bare skin, teasing and caressing me, and not feel as if I am wanton to indulge in such a desire.”
Her words were like the hottest of fists clamping over his cock.
“Get up, mount your horse, and return to the estate. I will call on your father tomorrow.”
Her eyes widened, and then her gaze dropped to his lips. A soft moan hissed from between her lips as if she reacted to the charged tension roiling from him.
“Payton, if you do not leave, I will hoist you onto the table, kiss you, tease and caress you as you desire…but I will not stop until I have you seated deep on my cock.”