WANTON by Cheryl Holt Page A

she has had in hers. The men she’s seduced seem positively delectable.”
    “Delectable?” he scornfully muttered.
    “Yes.”
    She was evaluating him strangely, probably the way Eve had evaluated Adam before luring him to his doom. She was more transformed by the second, and she’d been with Barbara Middleton for just five days. If she remained a whole month, what sort of siren would she be?
    The notion didn’t bear contemplating, and he should have stomped out, but he couldn’t. He felt oddly responsible for her, as if his declining of their betrothal had pushed her down this corrupt path.
    He had no gallant tendencies and had never been anyone’s savior. He didn’t want to be anyone’s savior, but at the same juncture, if he didn’t intercede and she came to some harm, he’d blame himself for any injury.
    His conscience was stirring, which was a peculiar and novel sensation. He was worried about her and thinking he should intervene. But how?
    He downed his wine and walked over to the fainting couch. She raised a brow, curious as to his intent, and appeared more bored than ever. Her disregard aggravated him as nothing had in ages.
    “Get up,” he said.
    “I’d rather not. I’m comfortable right where I am.”
    “We’re leaving. Get dressed.”
    “No.”
    “I’m taking you back to my father’s, then I’ll have you escorted to Sidwell Manor.”
    “To do what?”
    “We’ll figure it out after you’re there. I won’t abandon you to this house of disrepute.”
    “You’re being quite tedious, Mr. Drake.”
    “Get up, Miss Hubbard.”
    She simply continued to stare, and as he reached down to grab her, he felt as if he was floating out of his body, as if he was watching some other hapless fellow prepare to manhandle her.
    He’d constantly been told how to behave, so he never told others how to act. Yet he was determined that she obey him—as if he had the authority to demand her compliance. He wrapped his fingers around her forearm, and since she was light as a feather, a quick jerk lifted her to her feet. The movement thrust her against him so her torso was pressed to his all the way down.
    With her wearing just the robe, it seemed as if she was naked, as if the sole barrier between them was his own clothes. She was perfectly shaped, rounded breasts, flat stomach, and shapely thighs. His brain rapidly analyzed every pertinent detail.
    Another wave of lust shot through him, one that was so powerful he was amazed his knees didn’t buckle. He’d never previously suffered such a rush of desire, and with his being so dissolute, he wouldn’t have guessed it was possible for him to become so aroused.
    “I really don’t wish to return to the country,” she murmured.
    “I can’t leave you here.”
    “It’s not up to you. You’ve been very clear that you won’t attach yourself to me. I’m fine with that decision, and with you having made it, you can’t be blustering in and taking charge.”
    “You need a man to guide you.”
    “You think it should be you?”
    “Definitely.”
    “No.” She shook her head derisively. “You had the chance to boss me, but you let it pass you by.”
    “Maybe I was wrong,” he was horrified to hear himself say.
    “I don’t believe you were, Mr. Drake. I don’t want you. I’m not interested either. Would you please go?”
    He was overcome by a confused longing to tarry in her company, and he felt dizzy with trying to unravel his plan. He didn’t like her and didn’t care about her, but at that moment, wild horses couldn’t have dragged him away.
    She still looked irked, as if his presence was a great chore, and her contempt pricked at his vanity. He yearned to stay merely to prove he could, yearned to ingratiate himself until she was glad he’d arrived.
    Before he could talk himself out of it, he dipped down and kissed her. It was an automatic reflex and not what he’d envisioned himself doing. But, suddenly, he was overwhelmed by the urge to be