Free Sweet Surrender by Cheryl Holt

corrupt—"
    He glanced at her sister.  "Would you excuse us?"
    Eleanor wrung her hands, unnerved by their tempers.  "I don’t know if I ought to leave the two of you alone."
    "Don’t worry about us," he told her.  "Your bedchamber is still open.  Why don’t you rest from your ordeal?"
    "I’m not tired."
    "Then I doubt you had any food this morning."
    "I didn’t."
    "As I assumed—seeing as how your sister is a lunatic."
    "I’m not a lunatic!" Grace bellowed like an insane person. 
    He ignored her and continued to cordially chat with Eleanor.  "Locate a servant and order yourself a meal."  He gestured magnanimously.  "Whatever you like, they’ll be happy to fix it for you."
    She anxiously asked, "What do you think, Grace?"
    "You should eat, Eleanor," Grace seethed.  "I’m about to commit murder, and I’d rather you didn’t watch."
    "I completely agree."
    She scurried out, and he had Grace all to himself.
    Grace was standing very close, and he leaned in so they were even closer.  The foolish woman wasn’t afraid of anything so she didn’t retreat.  He didn’t move away, either.
    For some reason, when in her presence, the oddest sensations were generated.  A current of energy flowed from him to her, as if their proximity ignited sparks.  He couldn’t guess what was causing it—perhaps it was their hot natures grating together—but he was fascinated.
    Apparently, he was physically attracted to her.  Perish the thought!  He—who had a virtual harem of beauties at home in Egypt—was enticed by a petite, nosy busybody.
    If it wasn’t so hilarious, he’d be incensed.  Didn’t he have better taste?  Hadn’t he always set his amorous sights a tad higher?
    He felt alive and invigorated.  He could smell the soap with which she’d bathed, could perceive her torso’s heat emanating through her horrid gray dress.  To his absurd delight, he was wondering again how she’d look without her clothes, and it occurred to him that he was desperate to learn the answer to that question.
    "I’m amazed by your gall, Grace."
    "Don’t call me Grace."
    "I specifically asked you to stay and you left anyway."
    "You don’t own me."
    "You barged in and turned my world upside down, but when I wasn’t to your liking, you scampered away like a frightened rabbit."
    "I won’t have my ward within a hundred miles of you."
    "Won’t you?"
    "No."
    He leaned even nearer so the tips of his boots slipped under the hem of her skirt.  Their legs and feet were tangled, and finally, he’d rattled her. 
    She took a step back, and he took one forward.  She took another, and he did, too, forcing her across the floor until she bumped into the library’s desk and could go no farther.
    He pressed himself to her, holding her against the solid wood.  She was trapped and couldn’t move unless he decided to permit it.  He seemed to want something from her, though he couldn’t decipher what it was. 
    With each encounter, she grew more surly and less impressed by him, and her lack of regard was spurring him to recklessness.  What was wrong with him?  Why couldn’t he just leave her be?
    He pushed her down until she was actually lying on the desktop, with him wedged between her thighs and stretched out so he could feel every delicious inch.  He was being an ass, and he should have risen so she could scoot away, but his common sense had fled.
    "Get up," she fumed, shoving at his shoulders. 
    "No."
    "Get up!" she repeated more sternly.
    "No."
    "You are a bully."
    "I am.  I admit it."
    "I can’t abide an arrogant male."
    "Then you’ll definitely detest me."
    "You’re bigger than me so you think you can treat me however you please."
    "You’re correct.  That’s exactly what I think."
    "Ooh, I hate you."
    "I don’t care."
    He studied her as she studied him in return.  He was held rapt, utterly bowled over by her and unable to pull away.
    "We’re at an impasse," he said.
    "Only in your deluded mind."
    "Yesterday, I asked