Free My Fallen Angel by Pamela Britton Page B

exit in mind.
    “I wouldn’t do that.”
    She paused with her hand on the door.
    “If you leave, I will tell your aunt the whole sordid story.
    Lucy stiffened, then slowly turned to face him.“You wouldn’t.”
    “I would.”
    She felt herself pale at the expression on his face, pulling her gaze away to stare at the white and blue Chinese rug covering the floor. When he continued to remain silent she had the distinct impression he was merely gathering steam, as a typhoon does before it roars ashore.
    “My lord, please,” she began, trying to head him off. She peeked up at him.“I know wearing that dress was incredibly silly, but all I wanted to do was hel—”
    “Silly?” he interrupted, his expression turning thunderous.
    She licked her suddenly dry lips.“Very well,
foolish.
But ‘tis no reason for you to go off half-cocked. We can discuss this reasonably.”
    “Half-cocked?” Garrick said softly, taking a step toward her.“I’m more than half-cocked at the moment, my dear Lucy.” He took another step toward her.
    Lucy had the distinct impression he was being vulgar. She retreated a step, not trusting the look in hiseyes, then tried not to panic when her rear came in contact with the back of one of two couches facing each other in the room.“Now, Garrick—”
    “I am going to teach you a lesson.”
    Her eyes widened.“A lesson? W-what kind of lesson?” she asked, surreptitiously looking for an escape route.
    He took another step, this one bringing him within inches of her.“I have decided to teach you what happens to young ladies who disobey me.”
    Lucy tried to dart around him, but a hand streaked out. He pulled her to him, his grip nearly bruising, her rear against the couch again.
    “You’re demented,” she blurted.“And I didn’t disobey y—” Whatever else she’d been about to say was cut off when Garrick jerked her roughly, almost violently against him.
    Their eyes met, hers soft and pleading and sparking with just a touch of anticipation, his dark and promising.
    “Garrick, I—”
    She never got to finish her sentence. With the speed of lightning, his lips swooped down to cover hers. Lucy gasped, not in fear, but in excitement, for as Garrick’s mouth angled down to cover hers she realized that this, this all-consuming passionate
need
to be kissed by him, this was what she’d wanted since the moment they’d met, was the reason why she’d allowed him such liberties. Yes, he was being a bit of an unscrupulous knave right now, but it was exactly that roguish air that drew her to him.
    And if Garrick’s lips were just a little bit hard and punishing as they ravished hers, she didn’t mind. If hisgrip was a little too tight as he pressed her up against the back of the couch, she tolerated it. If what his eyes promised was punishment, she wanted to be punished for the rest of her days.
    Her body began to tingle, delicious, shivery little tingles which rose the hairs on her arm. She sighed, then stood on tiptoe, leaning her weight against the sofa. Her breasts pressed up against him through the scratchy fabric of his jacket. The feel of it brought to mind his touch. The memory sent a flash of brazen need coursing through her.
    Instinctively, her hands moved up his chest, over his shoulders, and to the back of his head. The silk ribbon in his queue entangled in her fingers. She pulled on it impatiently.
    “Ouch,” he grunted in pain when she tugged too hard. He tried to pull back but she wouldn’t let him, determined to feel his hair as it cascaded down around them. In a moment, it was loose, its soft, salt-smelling strands sliding up against her cheek.
    She moaned. Garrick cupped the sides of her face with his own hands and tilted her chin up. She yielded to the sweet pressure of his thumbs and opened for him. A spicy taste flooded into her mouth.
    She ignited on the spot.
    His tongue touched hers, lightly at first, then growing more and more aggressive. Her front teeth bumped