Page 56 of The Rogue’s Countess

“Damn you, Lucien. Let me go.”

“Not until we have this matter settled between us.”

“There’s nothing to settle. You condemned, tried, and judged me before speaking to me.”

“I’m speaking with you, now,” Lucien growled fiercely as he pulled her into his chest.

“No, you’re not. You haven’t spoken to me since the night you walked out of here without saying a word.”

“I did not simply walk out of here. You ignored me. You didn’t even acknowledge my presence.”

“I ignored—” Constance sputtered in outrage as she stared up at her husband and gritted her teeth at how he was blaming her for their discord. “For once in our marriage, I was willing to wait for you to speak. I was waiting patiently for you to bring down the wrath of God on my head.”

“God knows I wanted to, my lady,” he snarled. “I left before I found myself wrapping my fingers around this pretty throat of yours.”

“Are you telling me you’re not just as angry now?” Constance met his gaze defiantly. “Then have at it. End your frustration, Lucien. You’ve judged me. Now carry out your sentence.”

Lucien’s face drained of color at her fierce words, and Constance’s heart slammed into her chest. Dear God, what was she thinking? She knew better than to feed his fears that Oliver’s madness might be something he had inherited as well. Perhaps that was what it would take to make Lucien see he could be angry without fearing he was on the brink of madness.

Before she could say a word, Lucien’s fingers brushed across her throat. Startled, her eyes widened then narrowed as she scowled at him. Her husband was the most ridiculously stubborn man she’d ever met.

“Well, my lord. What are you waiting for?” she sneered. “I stand ready to accept your punishment, whatever it may be.”

Fury darkened her husband’s face, and for a brief instant, Constance wondered if she’d pushed him too far. She was being deliberately provocative, and she knew it. But Constance was no longer willing to let Lucien use the excuse of possible madness as a reason to avoid an argument with her.

She was tired of walking on eggshells whenever he was angry. Their love for each other wasn’t enough to ensure their relationship remained strong. They had to trust each other too. Constance trusted him not to hurt her, but she was all too aware that Lucien didn’t trust himself.

Suddenly, his hand slipped around her throat to cup the back of her neck. In a sharp movement, he tugged her even closer and captured her lips in a bruising kiss. It was a harsh caress filled with anger and frustration. Constance didn’t protest. She simply pressed herself deeper into his body and willingly gave herself up to his fierce embrace.

Determined to demonstrate how certain she was that he would never hurt her, she bit down on his lower lip much harder than she normally would. It was a quick action that caused him to utter a sound of surprised discomfort, and she quickly thrust her tongue into his mouth, where it tangled with his.

Beneath the palm of her hand, Lucien’s heart pounded a wild rhythm. It was as strong as her own frantic heartbeat. Her fingers spiked through his dark, silky hair as his mouth left hers and made its way down the side of her neck, where his teeth lightly abraded the dip in her shoulder. With her hips pressed tight against his, the hard length of his erection pressed into her inner thigh, and she shuddered as need spiraled its way through her blood.

God, she’d missed him these past few nights. Missed falling to sleep in his arms and waking to a gentle kiss in the morning or simply watching him as he slept. A raw sound rumbled out of his chest as his fingers began to undo the buttons of her dress in the back. She reached behind to help, but as their fingers tangled, he uttered a soft oath, and with a vicious tug, pulled the bodice apart.

The rough handling of her dress indicated the strength of his desire, and she released a soft gasp of delight. Eagerly, she slipped out of her gown as he swiftly discarded his jacket and vest. As they undressed, his mouth sought hers again. The passionate kiss made her weak at the knees until she was forced to brace herself with one hand on his shoulder.

Fumbling with the strings of her corset, she was startled when the boned stays were roughly tugged downward. The garment grazed against her hard nipples in a pleasurable way that made her murmur a sound of delight. A moment later, the tip of one breast was lightly clenched between his teeth, and she gasped at the sensation.

Desire flared inside her with a strength that took her breath away as she quickly unhooked the corset in the front, and it fell to the floor. She moved to pull the chemise over her head, but it was suddenly ripped off her body as his hands tore the fine lawn material away from her. An instant later, he was singeing her bare flesh as his mouth kissed and nipped at her breasts.

Her fingers moved as quickly as they could to undo her skirt and undergarments and let them fall to the floor. Need pulsed its way through her, and she pushed aside his half-opened shirt to touch the hard muscle of his chest. A dark growl whispered its way across her senses as her feet suddenly left the floor, and he carried her to the bed.

From where he’d placed her on the mattress, she watched him finish undressing. There wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t hard muscle and linear lines of raw, male power. Her eyes met his, and she drew in a breath at the passion blazing in his cerulean gaze. She stretched out her hand to him and smiled as his hard hand slipped around hers.

“If this is your punishment for my insolence and willful disobedience, my lord, I am eager for you to administer it.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched violently, and he jerked away from her as a fleeting look of pain flashed across his features. She flinched at his reaction to what had been meant to be a playful, enticing invitation. Her heart ached for him at his obvious fear he might hurt her. How could she make him see that he could never hurt her?

Lucien has always believed his darkness was a side of him that would frighten her. It never had. Her only fear had been the thought of the darkness driving him away from her. Quickly sitting up, her face was a hairbreadth away from his as she cupped his face with her hands.

“I don’t fear you, my love. I know you could never hurt me.”

“Do you?” he snarled softly as he jerked back from her again. “Can you honestly say you’ve never feared me? Think long and hard before you answer my question, yâ sabāha.”

“You once asked me if I trusted you, Lucien.” Her touch gentle, Constance brushed her fingertips across his brow. The memory of the night he’d branded her with his touch and made it impossible for her to be with any other man made her heart pound. “I told you then, as I’m telling you now, I know you could never hurt me. Will you not trust me now as I trusted you then, Lucien? Will you not trust yourself—trust your love for me?”

As if a dam had broken inside him, a dark noise rumbled out of him then vibrated against her mouth as he kissed her hard. His hand warmed her skin as it slid up her leg to pause at the apex of her thighs. Eager for his touch, she raised her hips up off the mattress in a silent demand he continue. When his hand moved up over her rounded belly, she murmured a protest. Unwilling to be teased by him, she traced a path with her forefinger down his chest to the flat plane of his stomach, pausing just above his erection. The sound of his sharp inhalation made her smile, and she cupped his face in her hands once more.