Page 46 of To Pleasure a Prince

He thought of how perfectly Regina had fit in the slender Whitmore’s arms, two elegant people elegantly entwined in an elegant kiss. Until she’d started fighting the bastard.

Marcus’s kisses had been more like the attack of a ravening wolfhound. And then his annoying size had forced him to kneel just so he could suck her breasts…

Not that she’d protested it. Her eager response to his kiss had merely whetted his hunger. Especially when she’d looked so appealing with her blond hair temptingly swirled and coifed and her female flesh plumped up so sweetly it would make any man weep to taste it. Great God, how could he have helped himself?

He could still hear her soft moans of arousal, remember her nipples growing hard as pebbles beneath his tongue. How dared she renege on their bargain after welcoming his advances—

“Well?” She turned to face him. “What did you want to speak to me about?”

With a start, he glanced around. He hadn’t even noticed they’d reached a sitting room, probably hers. He’d followed her blindly, like a slobbering lapdog.

Careful, man.She’d probably led him deliberately into this enclave of frothy fripperies and spindly chairs that would snap the minute he dropped his massive body into them. She wanted to remind him that she wasn’t meant for ungainly louts like him, but for refined gentlemen.

“You think to punish me with this coldness, don’t you?” he ground out.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“The devil you don’t. Ever since that moment in the corridor when I—”

“Throttled my cousin? Used unconscionably coarse language? Tried to ruin my reputation forever?”

He bristled. “Whitmore was the one trying to ruin you, and you know it. Damn it, you ought to be grateful that I took care of it.”

“Grateful! Your barbaric behavior made an enemy not only of him, but of his brothers, too. If you had used some restraint—” She broke off, then took a steadying breath.

“Which leads me to what I wished to discuss with you.”

This was it. She would break with him. It was exactly what he’d been waiting for—so why was he suddenly finding it so hard to breathe?

“It seems I misunderstood your reasons for courting me.”

That put him on his guard. “What do you mean?”

“You said you wanted someone to ease your entree into society. I thought that you wanted to support Louisa. Yet whenever you are in society, you are rude to whomever we meet.”

“Why be polite to that lot? They’ll despise me no matter what I do.”

“That’s ridiculous—if they despise you, it’s only because of how you act. And I can hardly blame them. You insult me and them at every turn, you make no attempt to adhere to gentlemanly manners, and you dress as if you’re going to a wheat-threshing instead of out into good society.”

“I’m only being myself. You knew what I was when you met me.”

“I assumed you were being rude to me then because of my brother. I never dreamed that you lacked any knowledge of proper social behavior whatsoever.”

He scowled. “I don’t. I’ll admit I overreacted when Whitmore made his threats, but that doesn’t give you the right to renege on our bargain.”

“Who said anything about reneging on our bargain?”

“That’s what I call it when you refuse to let me accompany you anywhere.”

She cast him one of her cool, condescending smiles. “You misunderstand. I am merely putting you off until we can resolve this situation.”

He eyed her warily. “Oh?”

“If we begin lessons at once, you should be ready in no time.”

He blinked. “Ready for what?”

“To go back into society. If you and I are to keep courting, you cannot continue to fumble about, insulting people willy-nilly. I do have a reputation to maintain.” He gaped at her as she paced the room, ticking things off on her fingers. “Since you’re so fond of books, I’ll send you the most recent ones on deportment for gentlemen. We’ll consult with Lord Iversley about a tailor, and I’m sure Simon would be willing to explain to you all the rules of appropriate gentlemanly—”