Page 9 of A Virgin for the Ton’s Wolf (Ton’s Wolves #4)

CHAPTER NINE

W hy the hell should she want all of that?

He had meant to scare her. Meant to let her peek into his darkest desires so that she would never dare tease him again.

Yet, Lady Scarlett had looked and decided that she wanted all of it.

She was mad. She was insane.

And he could not have possibly desired her more.

“Hudson?”

Need rose inside him once more as her sweet voice breathlessly called out to him. He had never thought his name could sound so seductive on someone else’s lips.

“You should not want the same things I do,” he told her harshly.

If she knew the depths of his depravity, she would go running as far and as quickly from him as possible.

He stood up. “The rain has nearly stopped. Get dressed and meet me outside. We are heading back to the manor.”

Confusion marred her beautiful features. Followed by a huff of feminine indignation. Possibly frustration from unfulfilled lust, as well.

He would know all about frustration. His cock was still straining against his breeches, and it wanted her . He wanted to tear those blankets off her sweet body and sink himself into her wet heat. Wanted to hear her moan, and then scream, his name until she was hoarse.

And even then, he doubted it would ever be enough.

Instead, he stood up before he could find out just how far his debauchery went. For her sake, it was best they never did.

“Fine,” she seethed, scrambling away from him in a tangle of limbs and woolen blankets. “You can stand outside while I get dressed.”

She spoke with the imperiousness of a queen who found great dissatisfaction with her subject. A regal finger pointed to the door. At her feet, the damned puppy had begun to wake up and now regarded him with a suspicious stare and a low growl.

Hudson had just had his hands all over her. Had felt her responding so sweetly to his touch and his words alone.

If he was not battling intense lust, he would have found it most amusing.

But there was nothing amusing about their situation. So, he turned on his heel and strode out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Outside, the rain had slowed down to a drizzle. Hardly enough to douse the raging heat that surged through him just earlier. Moments later, Scarlett stomped out the door fully dressed, covered in a cloak. Underneath the voluminous folds, a snowy white head peeked out.

“The cloak?—”

“I found it in one of the cabinets inside,” she snapped.

She did not even deign to look at him. When Snowdrop whimpered, her tone swiftly became affectionate as she cradled the puppy to her chest.

Lucky bastard . The words slipped into Hudson’s mind without him even noticing.

“Well?” she demanded. “Should we not get going?”

He glowered at her once more. The cloak was much too large for her. It must have been made for a man.

“Here,” he muttered, handing her his cloak. “This will suit you better.”

Her fingers immediately clenched the clasp at her neck. She glowered at him. “This cloak suits me just fine,” she snarled back.

He bit back a smile. Such a fierce, bloodthirsty, little thing.

“That thing is threadbare and barely able to hold up in the wind,” he drawled. “I will not haul you back to the estate, simply to have you fall ill and be forced to extend your stay.”

She bristled at his words, but then she unclasped the cloak and angrily tossed it at him. He handed her his own and smiled in approval when she put it on.

“There. I have gone and put it on. Do not fret, Your Grace,” she seethed. “For on the most unfortunate occasion that I do catch a cold, I will have my mother cart me back to Southford, even if I am at death’s door.”

“Perish the thought, Lady Scarlett. Perish the thought.”

She rolled her eyes. “One would think that you would be the most pleased at my demise,” she muttered under her breath, stalking ahead of him.

Then, she turned around and glanced at him over her shoulder.

“Did you not say that we are heading back to the manor? Do not dawdle about, Your Grace. I would so hate to be the cause of your illness.”

Hudson bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smirking. It would take more than a little rain to fell him.

A little slip of a woman, however, was threatening to be his undoing.

He shook his head and caught up to her. The sooner he got her safely back in the manor, the sooner she would leave. The sooner she left, the sooner he would get his sanity back.

Hopefully.

Unfortunately, ever since Lady Scarlett Clarke’s unannounced visit, he had not had a moment’s peace. He doubted he would get it back soon.

Hudson—the Duke of Wolverton—was a hateful man.

Wicked, dangerous, and much more sinfully alluring than the devil himself, but just as hateful!

One moment, Scarlett was a quivering mass of need, lured into a lustful haze by his words and his touch… only to be discarded as quickly as a hot potato. It was jarring. Mortifying.

She even had to send him outside while she picked the pieces of her self-esteem off the cold floor.

From her arms, Snowdrop gave a little yip and bumped her with his snout. The affectionate gesture soothed her heart, but she continued to glare at the broad back in front of her.

“You must behave,” she gently admonished the puppy. “His Grace is not the most patient man, you see.”

She saw his back stiffen slightly and smiled. It would seem that her shot hit its mark.

“In fact, I have never met a more ill-tempered brute in all my life,” she continued.

And yet that ill-tempered brute had gone out of his way to chase after her in the rain. That very same ill-tempered brute had taken one look at her moth-eaten cloak and given her his own instead.

Indeed, his cloak was warmer and dryer and heavy enough to feel like a hug. A warm hug with a clean, masculine scent that reminded her of a pine forest.

And now she would have to live with that scent stamped in her brain, along with the vivid recollections of the embrace they had shared in the lodge.

I really should have chosen a different man to kiss . Even if it was just an imaginary kiss.

Although she had no doubt that the Duke of Wolverton could kiss. Very well. Extremely well.

And if she was to be kissed—as she sometimes thought about—she wanted it to be toe-curling. Heart-melting. Mind-rearranging. Soul-stealing.

In short, everything that a proper kiss was supposed to be.

It was just too bad that the only one who seemed capable of fulfilling that fantasy was someone who would much rather not .

They continued the trek back to the manor in silence. Once or twice, she caught the Wolf looking back at her as if to make sure she was still there, dutifully trailing behind him.

Trailing? Yes. Dutifully? Absolutely not.

Each and every time he did that, she raised her chin and stomped up the path. Fortunately, the closer they got to the manor, the better and clearer the path became.

When they finally arrived at the manor, a little wet and worse for wear, they were both immediately whisked into the parlor by the Dowager Duchess and plied with copious amounts of tea.

The Dowager Countess, however, was far less pleased with her daughter’s actions.

“What were you thinking?” she railed, as politely as she could in company. “Running off into the rain like that? You are so fortunate His Grace went after you, or heaven knows you would be?—”

“Dead?” Scarlett deadpanned.

Her mama glared at her. “Dishonored. Ruined. Oh, Scarlett!”

The Dowager Countess had her priorities set differently.

As for dishonor and ruination, Scarlett was much more likely to end up with both with the Duke—but her mama would never know that.

She gave her mother a reassuring smile. “But, Mama, I am perfectly all right!” She turned around to show her. “See?”

The Dowager Countess fanned herself. “And you could have very easily been not.”

If Scarlett did not know it, her mother was being more dramatic than usual. A tragedy that her intended audience was not the least bit amused by the whole spectacle.

Scarlett cast a glance at the man in question and found him standing stoically by the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression giving nothing away.

A true rake, if she ever saw one. He could indulge in debauchery and go on to have luncheon with the Queen as if nothing had happened.

But Scarlett would never be able to walk away from all of that.

“I, for one, am simply grateful that you are all right, my dear.” The Dowager Duchess smiled at her. She reached out to hold Scarlett’s hands. “Oh my, your hands are cold as ice! Why don’t you head back to your chambers, and I shall have the maids draw a nice hot bath for you?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Scarlett saw Hudson stiffen slightly. “That sounds lovely, Your Grace.”

“Very well then—a bath is in order. And then you must rest. You need not worry about coming down for dinner—I shall have it sent to your chambers as well.”

“Oh, but that is too much, Your Grace.”

“Nonsense, my dear.” The Dowager Duchess clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “As your hostess, it is the least I can do for you.”

If Scarlett did not have to come down for dinner, then that meant she would be less likely to encounter the master of Wolverton Estate.

She nodded with a weak smile. “If Your Grace insists, then I shall spend the rest of the day in my chambers.” She paused and then looked down at the folds of her cloak, where Snowdrop was snuggled. “And if it is not too much trouble, might I have something for the puppy as well?”

“I shall see to it, my dear,” the Dowager Duchess reassured her. “Now, go back to your chambers and get some rest. You have had a long day.”

You have no idea, Your Grace.

Scarlett bit her tongue and allowed herself to be ushered out of the parlor by her mama. She paused when she passed by Hudson and bobbed a quick curtsy.

“Thank you for searching for me earlier, Your Grace.”

She kept her head down, biting her lower lip. She could feel his gaze boring into her, although he remained deathly silent. But earlier, he had not been as calm. He was on the verge of losing control, too.

What would he look like if he truly lost control? How would it feel to be swept up in his arms in a storm of passion?

She hazarded a look at him, and her breath caught in her throat. He had remained silent throughout, that was true, but his eyes—it was as if he could see past the heavy cloak and her damp clothing.

She lifted her chin in challenge and smiled. She would make sure he had a lot to look at.

Look all you want, Your Grace. Let us see who blinks first.