Page 31

She yanked her hand away from her lips as if burned. Her breath hitched, her pulse skittering, and for one awful moment, she could still feel him. How warm his breath was, how possessive his grip, the way his body pressed against hers, the way hers melted into his.

“Victoria! For the love of God!”

She got up and paced the room, shaking her head as if that would be enough to dispel the effect last night had on her. It was fruitless. His touch was searing. He had branded her, made sure that she woke up and walked around with his fingers, his lips, and his breath imprinted on her.

“Victoria, listen to me.” She went back to the mirror, fixing her reflection with a glare. “This is Stephen Elkins, the most infuriating, arrogant, insufferable man in existence.”

Her reflection didn’t seem so convinced, flushed and bothered as she was.

“No,” she hissed. “I hate him.”

More like, I hate the way he makes me feel.

Because no matter how much she wanted to deny it, he did make her feel too much, too fast. As much as it would be convenient for her to assume that it was just her body reacting to his touch, to that rich, deep voice murmuring sinful things, to his enormous body caging her in, she knew the truth.

It was not just her body—though it very much was. It was more. He was meeting her challenges, matching her rhythm. He was right. Her ‘lovely’ disposition scared most proper gentlemen of the ton, her outspoken manners too much to handle. But not for Stephen. He could handle her just fine. He could handle her body, and he could handle her wit.

I need to handle myself right now!

Victoria took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to get hold of her rampant mind. It was a moment of weakness. That was all it was. Nothing more. He was angry and wanted to prove a point. And she was foolish enough to allow him to. It was done. Over.

With renewed determination, Victoria went downstairs for breakfast. She was not going to starve herself for something like that.

“I am happy that you resolved the whole thing in a civilized way.” Dorothy’s voice drifted from the dining room.

Victoria scoffed before she entered the room. What a blatant lie had he told his mother? She inhaled, steeled her heart, schooled her features, and entered.

“Good morning.” She smiled, keeping her eyes on Dorothy.

“My dear!” Dorothy was extremely happy.

In fact, Victoria knew that Dorothy wastoohappy. What exactly did Stephen tell her to make her so giddy this early in the morning?

She dared a glance at him. He had the newspaper in his hands but was looking at her. A scorching, intense look. The moment their eyes met, he looked down, suddenly too interested in whatever was written in the paper.

“I am so happy that you are getting along,” Dorothy gushed, patting Victoria’s hand.

Are we now?

Victoria threw him a side glance, but he was still engrossed in his paper—or at least pretending to be.

“How nice of Stephen to help you secure a husband, right?”

Victoria clenched the napkin she was adjusting in her lap. All she could do was smile at Dorothy, blinking far too many times to keep her cheeks from flushing. So, she decided to concentrate on other things, small details if only to save her sanity this morning. The sunlight streaming through the tall windows, the way it glinted off the silver teapot, the feel of the hot tea in her mouth, yet not as hot as his tongue?—

Oh, for God’s sake.

She stole another glance at him to see if he too was miserable. He seemed fixated on the same page, his knuckles white while gripping the paper too hard, and a muscle was ticking in his jaw.

Good. I am not the only one suffering here.

So, to sum it up, if she were to make one of her beloved lists, this was what was happening at the breakfast table:

- Stephen was certainly not reading that newspaper

- Victoria’s cheeks were not overheated by the tea

- No one was listening to what Dorothy was saying.