Free For Revenge or Redemption? by Elizabeth Power Page B

judgement. And we aren’t all like you, Seth Mason. My grandfather didn’t marry Corinne for…’ She couldn’t even bring herself to say it, hating having to listen to someone else voicing the doubts about Lance Culverwell’s good judgement that she had harboured in silence, alone. ‘He married her because he was lonely.’
    Those steely eyes seemed to strip her to the soul. ‘If you believe that, then you still haven’t grown up, Grace, despite all your claims to the contrary. He might have advocated high standards and good breeding—which he obviously found in the woman he spent most of his life with—but at the end of his life he was no more immune than any other man to the wiles of a pretty gold-digger who has about as much refinement as a bag of raw cane-sugar.’
    ‘Coming from someone as basic as you, that’s rich!’ sheshot back, hating him for saying these things to her. ‘All I can say to that is that it takes one to know one.’
    From the anger that flared in his eyes, she realised she had hit a raw nerve.
    Scared by the fury she had provoked, she started to move away, but he was too quick for her, and she gave a helpless little cry as he caught her, dragging her into his arms.
    Her robe had slipped off one shoulder and, tugging it off the other so that her arms were trapped inside it, he pulled her towards him before his mouth came down hard on hers.
    She struggled in his grasp, protesting little sounds coming from her captured lips, but her wriggling only made him more determined, his mouth growing more insistent in its demands.
    Her fruitless movements caused her robe to separate. She could feel the rasp of his suit against her stomach, her thighs, her naked breasts.
    She groaned again, only this time it was the muted sound of desire. She hated him and yet she wanted him! How sick was that?
    The revelation shocked her even as she realised that he had recognised it too.
    In response his arms came around her, pulling her into the hard warmth of his body, his mouth leaving hers only to force her head back for his teeth to graze with humiliating purpose over the far too sensitive column of her throat.
    Sensations ripped through her such as she had never known for eight long years. Why him? she asked herself savagely, clenching her teeth against all that he was doing to her. Was he destined to be the only man that she could ever respond to?
    Hating herself for her weakness, fingers curling tensely against the shoulders of his jacket, she battled with the traitorous responses of her own body so that she was standingbreathless and trembling with her eyes closed when he finally lifted his head.
    His face was flushed, his mouth taut from the desire he was holding in check, but his eyes were unmistakably smug.
    Even so, he seemed to have a struggle drawing breath before he said in a voice that was softly mocking, ‘Where are those principles now, Grace?’
    ‘You bastard.’ Her lashes parted to reveal the self-loathing in her eyes. ‘Was that why you came here tonight?’ she demanded shakily, pulling out of his grasp. ‘To try to humiliate me?’ Her hands were trembling so much she could scarcely do up her robe.
    ‘If it’s of any consolation to you, Grace, humiliating you wasn’t my intention.’
    ‘No? Exactly what did you intend? To try and soft-soap me with your supposed concern for my welfare, and hope that that and a few well-chosen flowers would have me falling at your feet?’
    ‘Just let me remind you, Grace, that there were two of us involved in that kiss—and you responded to me. As for my takeover of Culverwells, one day you might just thank me for stepping in when I did.’
    ‘Never!’
    ‘Never say never,’ he ridiculed. ‘So, we can do this the easy way by being civil and trying to get on…’
    ‘Giving in to your assaults, you mean?’
    ‘Or we can go on just the way we’re going,’ he said, ignoring her remark, ‘And keep up this pointless war. It makes little