Chapter 3
“Lady Prudence Germaine to see you, my lord.”
Titus’s brows rose as he looked up from the accounts he was working on in his study at Romney House. “Lady Prudence is here? In person?”
“Yes, my lord,” his butler confirmed evenly. “The young lady also appears to be unaccompanied by her maid.” The elderly butler did not quite manage to keep the note of disapproval from his tone.
A frown creased Titus’s brow. It had been three days since he last saw Prudence at her parents’ home in Grosvenor Square. But he distinctly remembered his last instruction had been for her to send him a note when she was ready to speak with him again and he would then call upon her there. Gardener was not the only one who disapproved of Pru visiting Titus’s bachelor establishment without even the benefit of her maid.
An occurrence which, now that Stonewell had his own agents following Prudence, Titus knew would be reported back to the duke.
He rose abruptly. “Show Lady Prudence into the library, if you please, Gardener. And bring in a decanter of brandy and two glasses.” He had a feeling that he and Pru would have need of it before the afternoon was through.
Much as the wearing of black gowns, bonnets, and lace gloves was appropriate to her time of mourning, and also gave Pru an air of fragility that was not otherwise apparent, Titus believed seeing her constantly garbed in such drab attire would grow very tiresome very quickly.
Indeed, he found the black silk bonnet she wore today distinctly unflattering. It gave her delicate features a gray cast. “Gardener will take your bonnet and cloak,” he stated firmly.
Prudence blinked at his autocratic tone. “It is not my intention to remain for long—”
Titus had his own ideas about the length of Prudence’s visit. “Nevertheless…” He held her gaze unblinkingly.
It took effort for Pru to retain her irritation with Romney’s dictatorial tone when she had spent the past three days thinking of what he might have wished to say to her that day if she had only allowed him to do so.
Finally, having persuaded her parents to depart for Bedfordshire without her this morning, Pru had been unable to contain her curiosity a moment longer. She had also deemed it wise not to involve Mary in her visit to Romney’s home, and instead sent her maid out on several unnecessary errands this afternoon. If asked, the young maid could then honestly claim she had no knowledge of her mistress ever having called upon Viscount Romney in the privacy of his home.
Pru’s mouth thinned as she now removed her cloak and bonnet before handing them to the waiting butler. “Thank you.” She gave the elderly man the ghost of a smile, waiting until he had closed the door behind him before taking in her surroundings rather than the man who dominated them.
The library in Romney House was both elegant and comfortable, with several overstuffed chairs near the unlit fireplace and a chaise in front of the bay window. The book-lined walls were filled with hundreds, if not thousands of leather-bound volumes that made Pru’s lace-covered fingers itch to touch them. She loved the feel and smell of a new book and had always been more inclined to read the classics than her sister, Cilla preferring romances when she read at all.
A waist-high mahogany table stood in the center of the room, with several haphazard piles of books on its polished top, some with bookmarks amongst their pages. Evidence that Romney liked to read too?
Pru brought herself up short. Her reason for being here was not to covet the viscount’s library.
Romney’s mouth twisted derisively as she turned to him. “It was my understanding, when we last met, you had no further wish to see or speak to that hateful man—me—ever again?”
Pru’s chin rose in defiance. “Nor do I,” she snapped her irritation. A displeasure which, unfortunately, did not prevent her from being totally aware of how handsome Romney looked in a dark gray superfine, pale gray pantaloons, and snowy-white linen. “Except, before you left the other day,” she continued firmly, “you said you had something you wished to say to me in regard to our carriage accident.”
“A good afternoon to you too, Prudence,” he came back dryly.
She sighed her impatience. “I did not come here to exchange pleasantries with you.”
Romney’s mouth tightened at the sharpness of her tone. “Nevertheless, you will do so.”
“No—”
“You will do so now, Prudence, or suffer the consequences.” He spoke quietly but with such firmness, he might as well have bellowed the words in the otherwise silent room.
Pru refused to be cowed. “I see your arrogance has not diminished in the slightest since last we spoke.”
“Did you expect it to have done?” he mused.
“No,” she acknowledged disgustedly.
He nodded. “Defiant and rude young ladies have that effect on me.”
Pru felt the color heat her cheeks. “And certain…gentlemen bring out those particular traits in me, I am afraid.”
He gave a snort. “You are afraid of nothing and no one. Least of all, it seems,” he continued harshly, “the possible scandal caused by visiting a single gentleman’s residence unaccompanied by so much as your maid.”
Her dismissive laugh contained no humor. “Do not pretend you care for the dictates of Society any more than I do.”
“That is hardly the point.”
“Then what is the point?” she challenged. “I am in mourning, for goodness’ sake. I certainly did not come here with any thought of seducing you!”
Titus clenched his hands at his sides to stop himself from immediately throwing this young woman across his knee before giving her bottom a sound spanking.
A single glance at the haughty expression on Pru’s face when she entered the library had been enough to tell Titus he had been correct in thinking his and others’ gentle approach toward her out of deference to her suffering at the death of her sister was only succeeding in allowing Pru to become even sharper and more intractable.
Kissing Prudence three days ago, fondling and caressing her breast until the nipple grew hard beneath his fingertips, had not been the right approach either.
Especially when it had also left Titus hungering for more.
More kisses.
More caresses.
More of Prudence.
If anyone had ideas of seduction, then Titus knew he was the one who wanted to seduce Pru rather than the other way about.
A desire he had done his best to put from his mind these past three days and nights.
The days he could easily fill with estate business, visits to Gentleman Jim’s boxing saloon, and lunching at his club with one or two of the other Sinners.
But the nights…
Titus had tried visiting a house of the demimonde the evening after he had kissed Prudence, hoping to purge his sexual frustration that way. But none of the ladies there had Pru’s golden hair, blue eyes, and plump breasts, and after only an hour, he had excused himself and returned home. He had dealt with his own sexual needs that night, and drinking a decanter of brandy had succeeded in sending him into oblivion for the next two nights.
Only that desire had come raging back, engorging his cock into throbbing life the moment he’d set eyes on Prudence again. The very idea of throwing up her skirt and spanking her bare ass made his cock ache.
“I—” Titus was stopped from acting on that desire as Gardener entered the room carrying the tray containing the decanter of brandy and glasses. “Thank you.” He nodded dismissal of the elderly man and moved to pour the brandy himself. “Here.” He held one of the glasses out to Prudence once they were alone. “Drink it,” he instructed harshly when she made no move to take the glass from him.
After a brief glance at his expression, she gingerly removed the glass from his fingers and into her black-lace-covered ones.
“I said drink,” he bit out when she made no effort to do so.
She frowned her displeasure of his tone even as she took a tentative sip before screwing up her face with distaste. “I do not recall you being quite such a bully as this.”
“And I do not remember you being quite so irresponsible as to put yourself in danger of being completely socially ruined, but it appears we were each wrong about the other.”
The color deepened in her cheeks at his rebuke. “How dare you—”
“I am still waiting.” Titus calmly took a sip of his brandy.
She looked totally bewildered. “Waiting for what?”
“For you to show me the politeness our stations in life dictate is necessary for Society to be able to keep turning.” Titus derided Society’s strictures of etiquette, for which, as Pru had stated, he had not the slightest patience or time.
She gasped. “You still expect me to wish you a good afternoon after you have insulted me?”
“By telling the truth?” He carefully placed his glass on the mantel of the fireplace before adding softly, “Do not say I did not warn you.”
Pru took a wary step back as the viscount stepped forward, knowing it had been unwise of her to continue to challenge Romney when he had already warned her there would be “consequences” for her actions. Quite what form those consequences might take, she had no idea, but neither did she like the expression of intent she recognized in Romney’s eyes. Those scars running down the length of his left cheek and the side of his neck added to his appearance of menace.
Scars Pru knew Romney had received while trying to rescue Cilla and Worthington from the burning carriage. Something she should, despite his efforts having been in vain, have thanked him for before now. “I owe you my gratitude for your attempts to save my sister’s life.” She spoke softly, her gaze lowered to the carpet.
“I am only sorry I was not successful in that endeavor.”
Pru gave an abrupt nod. “As am I.”
“Does that mean the two of us can be friends again now?”
She raised startled lids. “I do not believe we were ever friends, my lord.”
He nodded grimly. “Perhaps that is because the desire between the two of us remains…unsatisfied.”
Pru lowered her lashes again, swallowing before speaking. “I would rather not discuss something of such an intimate nature as that.”
The viscount snorted. “On the basis that if we do not talk about it that perhaps it will go away?”
“Yes,” she answered vehemently.
“And has it?” he taunted. “Has it gone away, Pru?”
He was suddenly standing far too close for Pru’s comfort. So close, in fact, she was aware of the heat of his body and that invasive aroma of sandalwood, lemons, and earthy maleness she had come to associate with him.
Her insides heated, the bodice of her gown suddenly feeling much too tight, constricting her breathing and making her conscious of the swollen ache of her nipples. Her cotton drawers chaffed against the slickly wet lips between her thighs and caused her to fidget in discomfort. The result of that was to have the cotton material rub against the hardened and highly sensitive bud above those plump nether lips.
Was this the desire Titus talked of so scandalously?
Pru knew that it was. She had been attracted to and desired Titus before the accident, and, despite everything that had happened, she knew she was still attracted to and desired him now.
She ached for more of his kisses.
Throbbed for the intimate touch of his hands.
To feel again, as he had made her feel when he’d last kissed and touched her.
Since that protective barrier about her emotions had been shattered, Pru had been filled with a restless longing for Titus to use his hands and mouth to satisfy the desire raging through her aroused body. To be able to forget, even for a moment, how alone and lonely she truly was.
Titus watched the emotions flitting across Pru’s expressive face.
The alarm.
Followed by confusion.
Then the heated glitter of desire burning in her eyes as she looked at him.
The blush of arousal on her cheeks.
The plumping of red and moist lips.
Would those lips between her thighs be as plump, Titus wondered, and found himself licking his lips in anticipation of the sweet taste of Pru’s desire.
For him.
Yes, much as Pru might not want to feel the emotion, he knew she did still desire him.
As he desired her.
But he had spent much time in the Germaine sisters’ company before the accident, and as such, he felt he had come to know the two of them quite well. One thing he felt absolutely sure of was that both of them were still virgins.
Not that it need prevent him and Pru from being intimate together. There were other things, many other intimacies he and Pru could enjoy together, which would not result in the loss of that physical evidence of innocence.
But first… “When did you last cry?”
She looked startled by the question. “I do not understand.”
“When did you last express your grief by crying?”
She swallowed. “Never.”
He nodded. It was the answer he had been expecting. “Bend yourself over the front of this table.” He shifted the piles of books to the floor before stepping back.
Pru’s eyes widened incredulously. “And why on earth should I want to do that?”
“Because I instructed you to do so,” the viscount rasped. “You may finish the last of your brandy first, if you wish,” he added dryly.
Even the smell of the strong alcohol was enough to make Pru feel slightly intoxicated on top of the single sip she had already taken.
But it was not the possibility of becoming more intoxicated which now bothered her, but Romney’s instruction she prostrate herself over the table.
For what purpose?
There was only one reason that Pru could think of. Well…two, but she doubted Titus intended ravishing her across a piece of furniture in his library. The other reason was even less appealing. “Are you intending to spank me?” She did not quite manage to keep the alarm from her tone.
“Oh yes,” he confirmed with satisfaction.
She gasped. “Why?”
Romney leaned back against the table, his body relaxed and one booted foot casually crossed over the other. “For many reasons.”
“Name them,” she challenged unwisely.
“Hm, let me see.” He pretended to give the matter some thought. “Your disrespect and rudeness toward me. Your disregard for your own reputation. Most of all,” he added firmly as she would have spoken, “because I believe you believe you deserve to be spanked, and I am more than willing to fulfill that need.”
Pru gave another gasp. “Why on earth should I think such a thing?”
Romney’s mouth tightened. “For the same reason I allowed myself to be pummeled and pounded at the boxing saloon once my burns were healed enough that I could take myself there.”
“And that is…?”
“We could not save them.”
She frowned her confusion. “I do not—”
“Because we both feel the same guilt at the knowledge we lived and Cilla and Worthington did not,” he clarified gruffly.
Pru felt all the color drain from her cheeks as Romney’s words hit home with the force of a hammer blow.
Was he correct? Was that what was wrong with her? Why, now that the past six weeks of numbness had been stripped away from her, she had trouble falling asleep at night and woke every morning still tired and filled with a rage she had no idea what to do with?
Was it possible she felt that way because of the reason Romney had stated?
“Well?” he challenged.
She swallowed. “Did sparring in the boxing ring make you feel better?”
“A little,” he conceded softly.
Was feeling a little less guilty worth the humiliation of being spanked?
More to the point, was she really going to bend herself over the top of that table and allow Titus to spank her?