How To Seduce A Sinner

encouraged a kiss.

Dorothea offered him a warm smile. “The music is about to begin, my lord. Shall we?”

She put her hand on his outstretched arm. He instantly covered it with his own, squeezing it with an intimate familiarity that pushed at the boundaries of propriety. Dorothea ignored the jolt of warning that rushed to her head. They would be dancing in a crowded ballroom, in plain view of hundreds of guests, including Lord Dardington, her self-appointed protector.

What possible harm could occur?

Chapter Five

Thirty minutes later, Dorothea pulled away from Lord Rosen’s embrace and gazed at him distractedly, wondering how she had managed to find herself alone in the garden with him. She had been amenable when at the end of their dance he had suggested they stroll outside for some fresh air. He had been charming and urbane, flattering, yet not too obvious in his remarks. She had enjoyed his wit, but even more, she had been impressed with the gentlemanly reverence he displayed toward her.

Caught in the romance of the moment, Dorothea wondered if he could possibly be the right man for her. There in the moonlight, with the stars twinkling brightly and the sweet smell of the spring flowers perfuming the air, she decided to find out.

She leaned forward, allowing him to kiss her. Lord Rosen’s lips pressed forcefully against hers and in that instant Dorothea knew she had made a dreadful mistake. A foolish mistake.

There was danger in Lord Rosen’s kiss, possession in his embrace. He was not subtle or gentle; rather, he was conquering and almost brutal. He felt large, ruthless, and powerful as he held her tightly against his chest. Though it was executed with great skill, and no doubt endless experience, Dorothea found something indefinably unpleasant in his kiss. It left her feeling uncomfortable, uneasy.

“We need to return to the ball,” she said breathlessly

“Relax,” he cooed at her, his voice a harsh rasp on her nerves. “There is plenty of time before we are missed.”

Instinctively, Dorothea put up her arm, bracing it against his chest to hold him at bay. He smiled indolently at her and lunged forward. Dorothea stood fast, stiffening her elbow, keeping her arm firmly in place. His expression became perturbed as he realized she was serious.

“We need to return to the ball,” she repeated.

“Come now, my pet. There’s no need to be coy. We both know what we want.”

Oh, Lord, now she was in serious trouble. Her left hand, so firmly planted in the center of Lord Rosen’s chest, began to tremble. The idea of wrestling with him was too undignified to be borne, but if necessary, Dorothea would fight with every ounce of her strength.

She raised her chin and met his eyes squarely. Speaking in a normal, quiet tone was an effort. “I really must insist.”

His eyebrow lifted. “I cannot believe you would be so cruel as to deny us both such untold pleasure. You see before you a man at the mercy of your beauty.”

She sent a frosty glare in his direction. “At my mercy? I believe you to be more attuned with your base appetites, my lord.”

Appreciative laughter fell from his lips. “And yours.”

“Hardly!”

He drew back slightly, his gaze openly skeptical. “You came out here willingly. You kissed me willingly.”

Dorothea swallowed past the lump that was lodged in her throat. She had come outside of her own accord. But surely he could not think she was going to bestow upon him more than a single kiss?

“One kiss is all that I allow, my lord. At least to a man who is not my husband or my betrothed. Lest you forget, I am a lady. An innocent, unmarried lady.”

Lord Rosen must have seen her temper flair, for he paused. His dark eyes surveyed her critically. “Do you believe yourself worthy of becoming my wife?”

Dorothea winced. That was rather blunt. What did he expect now, that she plead her cause? Enumerate her finer qualities, expound on her many virtues, show him her teeth? What nerve! Beneath her escalating fear, Dorothea grew angry. But she held her temper.

“That is not for me to decide, my lord,” she replied, keeping her voice cool. “Only you can determine who is worthy to be your wife.”

He smiled, seemingly pleased at her response, yet his heightened color indicated he had not fully regained his temper.

“Perhaps that is what I am attempting to do right now. Determine your worth.”

Shock forced a nervous giggle from her. She should have been prepared for this nonsense. Or better still, she should have been smart enough to avoid it altogether. The good Lord help her if by some miracle Lord Rosen did propose. He possessed in abundance that superior smugness prevalent in men who felt they needed to prove themselves with women. He would not take kindly to being rejected.

Somehow, Dorothea managed a strained smile. “This seems a rather awkward time and place to make such an important decision about your future.”

“It could very well be your future also,” he insisted.

If you please me. He did not say the words aloud, but his intent was obvious with every sultry, proud look. Pointedly, Lord Rosen glanced down at her arm, the physical barrier she held between them. His smug expression told her he expected her to lower it.

Dorothea stiffened. “I think not, my lord,” she proclaimed.

His expression of disbelief was comical, and unfortunately short-lived. Lord Rosen glared at her, clearly annoyed. Dorothea’s fear returned. If I survive this incident without harm, I vow I shall be more diligent in the future, she promised herself silently.

Dorothea dipped a quick curtsy and turned away, scolding herself not to scurry so fast, yet she could feel Lord Rosen’s penetrating gaze boring into her back.

“Miss Ellingham!” he shouted.

Her discomfort heightened. Her pace quickened. She was supremely conscious of how wildly her heart was thudding. It was undignified and a bit lowering to scuttle away like a frightened child, yet Dorothea reasoned it was far better to be a coward than a fool.

There was a sound behind her. His footsteps? Dear God! No longer giving any thought to how she appeared, Dorothea lifted her skirt above her ankles and broke into a run. Her feet crunched noisily on the gravel path, the stones cutting through the soft leather soles of her elegant dancing slippers.

Ignoring the pain, Dorothea kept running. Her shoulder brushed the side of a lush hedge as she turned the corner, but she dared not slow her speed. She was concentrating so intently on the sounds behind her that she paid little attention to what was directly in front.

It was like hitting a brick wall. A wall with powerful arms. Dorothea screeched as those masculine arms encircled her, imprisoned her. Twisting from the hold, she backed away on unsteady legs, trying to prepare herself to meet her attacker. Lifting her head, she met his eyes fully.

Lord Atwood! Dorothea’s mouth dropped open, aghast. Feeling off balance, she caught his arm and tried to steady herself, physically and emotionally.

“Gracious, woman, what is the matter?”

Shocked speechless, Dorothea stared at him. The moonlight reflected off his face, giving his features an almost angelic glow. Normally, physical beauty did not overwhelm her so intently. It had taken several years for her to come to the realization, but she did know that physical appearance did not directly correlate to a person’s character.

Lord Rosen being an excellent example of that fact. His very appealing face and form hid a darkness in his personality, a sharpness of temperament that was at odds with his outer beauty.

Something about the marquess’s looks…or maybe it was his bearing, drew her near. A kind of magnetic virility