Page 22 of A Virgin for the Ton’s Wolf (Ton’s Wolves #4)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

I nfuriating. Simply infuriating.

Not to mention extremely difficult to understand and the most ill-tempered man to boot!

Scarlett hiked her skirts up her ankles as she stomped after Hudson to the gardens. Any other night, she might have appreciated how the gentle moonlight bathed everything around her in a silvery, ethereal glow, intertwining with the shadows.

A most perfect setting for a tryst, except that she was most definitely not trysting with the man. And after what happened at the tower? She would be insane to even think about it.

Which was why she was now convinced that she was at least a little mad to follow him out of the ballroom.

“What do you want?” she demanded, huffing just the slightest bit.

They were far enough away that no living soul could hear them. If it was privacy he wanted… well, he had it now. She was not going to take one step further than this extremely romantic gazebo.

“I told you not to test my patience, little cat,” he growled at her, his eyes narrowed as if he had been the one compromised.

Scarlett lifted her chin in defiance. She would not cower before him, nor have him bend her to his will. She had had enough of it.

“And in what way have I tested your patience, Your Grace?” she flung back at him with every bit of biting sarcasm she could muster. “You wanted me out of your hair, did you not? Well, after this ball that your mother so graciously arranged for me, after finding a match that I can live with for the rest of my sorry existence, I will gladly do so! In fact,” she added with a cold smile, “I cannot wait to do so!”

That was a lie. Every fiber of her being simply screamed at the thought of leaving him. Of another man’s hands touching her the way he had.

But she did not have a choice in the matter—he’d already made it for both of them.

“If that is what you call a good match, then you must be joking,” he scoffed.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Thank you for your great concern, Your Grace. Unfortunately, I have never pretended to make exceptionally astute decisions when it comes to marriage—not that you should concern yourself with it.”

She saw him flinch slightly and bit back the triumphant smile that hovered at the corners of her lips. Oh, she could be extremely petty when she wanted to be, and right now, he absolutely deserved every biting remark.

“Oh, but I am very concerned, my dear,” he said in a low, silky voice that ignited every single one of her nerves. “In fact, I find it rather infuriating, but here we are.”

Infuriating? She should be the one infuriated with his meddling!

And then her eyes widened in realization.

“You do not want me,” she murmured.

His gaze softened slightly. Or was that simply her wishful thinking?

The next moment, his eyes were biting cold once more.

“That is correct,” he replied smoothly.

Scarlett narrowed her eyes at him. “You do not want me, but you do not want others to have me? Your Grace, you must be mad!”

Madder than her, even, if such a thing was even possible.

Or perhaps they were simply two deranged people who managed to find each other against all odds.

They stood there, glaring at each other. And then she saw his hand before her.

“Come here, little cat.” His voice was low. Magnetic. Its timbre skittered down her spine and set her on fire.

Against her better judgment, she recognized the familiar heat pooling between her legs.

She shook her head and laughed mirthlessly. “Oh no. No, no, no. No .” She took a step back. “You do not get to tell me what to do, Your Grace . You cannot just toss me aside and then act like a jealous lover the next!”

Her voice was rising hysterically, and she hated it.

Hated how he could so easily affect her.

“You do not get to tell me what to do,” she told him. “Not after everything .”

“But that is where you are wrong, little cat,” he replied softly. “As long as you are here, you are mine.”

His . Her breath hitched in her throat.

How absolutely sublime. How laughably dangerous .

She could not be his any more than he could be hers .

She lifted her chin. “I can dance with whomever I want,” she told him daringly. “Even if it is with the Marquess of Colton.”

“I do not care if you wish to dance with the bloody devil himself,” he warned her. “Unless you want their blood on your hands, you will refrain from such foolishness.”

Foolishness? Scarlett wanted to laugh. Foolishness was standing here in a gazebo, within an arm’s length of an infuriated Wolf. Foolishness was following him out of the ballroom simply because he told her to do so.

Foolishness was still believing that there was something between them. Something worth risking everything .

Clearly, she had failed to learn her lesson, but Scarlett never made any pretense at brilliance. With Hudson, she was willing to be stupid over and over and over again.

Even then, at what point was enough truly enough?

He was livid, of course. That was a given. Livid enough to actually break the damn glass Daniel had warned him about before interrupting her little dance, her little act of defiance.

She had disobeyed and thwarted him at every turn, and as if that was not enough, she seemed to inordinately enjoy flinging her willfulness into his face as well.

So, yes , Hudson was angry.

But need and desperation had been gnawing at him for days, too, and the combination of all of that made for the most volatile concoction known to man. In short, he was now a volcano on the verge of eruption. Quite literally Vesuvius .

And right now, she was like Pompei, standing in the way of all that rage and heat.

He felt the throbbing insistence between his legs and suppressed a groan. He would want nothing more than to be buried so deep inside her he would leave his mark on her.

So maybe eruption was not the right word he should be using.

He took a step forward, and this time she stood her ground. This close, he could see her trembling. Was she afraid of him? That was understandable, but her bright blue eyes flashed in the moonlight without a trace of cowardice.

He could not help but smile at his mistake. Of course, she would not cower before anyone. Not even him.

He reached out, and his hand slid around the nape of her neck, his fingers digging into the elegant coils of hair her maid had painstakingly arranged for that night. Something deep and primal roared within him, and his grip on her tightened.

Mine , his body screamed. All. Mine .

“Hudson…”

His name escaped as a whimper. A soft plea.

His name. Not Your Grace .

“Scarlett…”

Her name escaped as a groan. A fulfillment of desires that he had thought he could restrain.

Not anymore.

His lips crashed against hers like a wave hitting the shore. His fingers sank into her scalp, anchoring her to the onslaught of his mouth. It had only been days since he had last kissed her, tasted her… and yet he devoured her like a starving man before a banquet.

A soft mewl escaped her throat, and he angled his mouth, deepening the kiss. His tongue swept past her teeth to entangle with her own. Bloody hell, but she was quite the adept student, and she had learned precisely how to drive him to his knees with just a kiss. Even the most adept courtesans from all over Europe had not been able to drive him this wild with need. They hadn’t even been close to what this goddess was doing to him.

“You… you cannot say that,” she panted.

He growled as his lips trailed down her jaw, reveling in the shuddering breath he felt her take. “And yet here you are.” He smirked against her soft, flushed skin. “In my arms, not his.”

He nuzzled the side of her neck and was rewarded with a strangled moan. Oh, she could try to resist him, but he knew better. They both knew better.

There was no way either of them could walk away from all of this unscathed. They had dug their claws into each other, leaving marks where no others could.

The Wolf and his little cat.

“You are mine,” he growled against her skin. “And that bloody Marquess of yours will do well to keep his hands off what is mine.”

She let out a shaky laugh that had his cock aching, straining against his breeches.

“He is not my Marquess,” she murmured, her voice tinged with some unfamiliar emotion. “Neither am I yours.”

He chuckled huskily.

Still denying that, are we?

“We shall see, little cat. We shall see.”

His hands slid down her hair, sending pins scattering in their wake. Her hair tumbled down in a riotous waterfall of flaming silk. Her lips, kiss-swollen, parted slightly as she breathed. Her blue eyes met his without flinching.

She was glorious, and every fiber of his being screamed at him to make her his. To bury himself to the hilt inside her tight, wet heat. To claim her as no other had before.

His fingers dug slightly into her ribcage.

Nor shall anyone ever come after me.

“Hudson.”

His eyes flickered to hers, seeing the naked want reflected in those pools of brilliant sapphire.

“You do not want me,” she told him, her voice trembling. “You must let me go.”

“And therein lies our problem, my dear,” he told her harshly. “I want you too damn much.”

He heard her sharp intake of breath.

“I want my name on your lips.” He swept the pad of his thumb over the peak of her breast, feeling the bud tighten beneath the layers of fabric that separated them.

“I want my cock buried between your legs.” He punctuated his words by grinding that particular part of his anatomy against her. “I want you coming on my lips, on my cock… but only after you beg me for release.”

Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and when he lifted his head, he was met with her clear blue eyes, blazing as she regarded him with a sharp-edged smile. His little cat had sunk her claws into him, and he found it quite delightful to be caught in her clutches.

“Oh, really, Hudson.” Her voice was a low, throaty purr that spoke to his deepest, darkest desires.

Desires that only she could quench.

“Then what is stopping you?”

What, indeed? Principles? He had none. Scruples? Even less of that.

At that moment, the last strand of his control snapped, and he pulled her close. She was going to be his downfall, but he did not care.

As his lips descended upon hers once more, all Hudson could think of was to let it all burn.

Just as he would burn with her.