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He was going to stop, but then she let out a soft mewling sound. He didn't know if the sound indicated a desire for more or a desire for him to stop, but it only urged him on, made his body thrum.

Her waist was slender under his palm and she fit into him perfectly. She tasted so perfect too. Like sweet surrender. Like innocence and a hunger that matched his all at once.

And-

The flapping wings of a bird taking off made him pull away from her. Her mouth was wet and swollen and a sense of barbaric smug satisfaction filled him.

He had done that.

She raised one trembling hand and brushed the backs of her fingers across her bottom lip.

"Wh-wh-"

"Was that enough emotion for you?" he put as much hardness into his voice as he could and it worked.

Right before his eyes, Lavinia snapped out of whatever spell that kiss had put her under. Hazy green eyes turning sharp once more.

"You absolute cad!" she cried, then turned and fled.

He waited until she had gone out of view before he slumped back on the tree behind him, panting like he had run a marathon.

The Duke told himself that he had only done it to prove a point, but point or not, he knew he was going to be replaying that kiss in his head for days.

Hours later, he lounged against the leather chair in his office, a glass of whiskey hanging limply from his hands.

Across from him, Lord Dillon had his feet kicked up on the desk, cravat loosened and waist coat unbuttoned, looking the very picture of a cad.

"I'm sure she's all bark and no bite," his friend assured him. "Women are generally pigheaded until they recognize a dominant power."

"For the sake of you getting to old age with your bullocks intact, I suggest you never say that to a woman," the Duke told him, shaking his head.

"This conversation is confidential," he raised his glass in a mock salute before throwing it back, "what do you plan on doing about the chit?"

Victor gritted his teeth. That was the question he had been asking his own self. They couldn't continue how they were going. He had to establish the fact that she was to respect him in society and none of her obstinate behavior.

"When we get married, things will be different," he said. "They have to be. I cannot expect her to obey me now. I have no rightsover her. But under my roof, she will understand that there will be none of that surly attitude."

"Hear, hear," Patrick raised his glass, then threw his head back and let out a roar of laughter.

"What's funny?" He glared at his friend, still firmly of the opinion that he needed to get himself a new friend.

"You are, Your Grace," the viscount smirked, "I do not believe that things will be as easy as you have just said. But then again, I shall be here to watch the unfolding drama."

"Do you not have responsibilities?"

"None whatsoever," Patrick chuckled, "I'm completely at your behest."

"I do not want you at my behest."

He shrugged. "You have me regardless."

Patrick climbed to his feet and grabbed his coat that had been thrown over the back of his chair, "Majestique opens its doors for the first time tonight. Are you coming?"

Victor raked a hand down his hair, "No. I've sent a letter over to Hartfield house. I am to meet with Lavinia's guardian."

His friend shrugged, "The doors will be open to late. Let us get some debauchery done before you settle into the boring life of a leg shackled man."

"This marriage is not going to change anything."