Page 4 of The Devil’s Submission

So cold. So polite. Abruptly the character flaw her mother loathed reared its head, urging her to crack the mask, to make him feel something. “No need,” she replied, smiling with determination. “Your chamber is most adequate. And if I have timed it with any luck, the left side of the bed should be currently vacant…”

Her voice trailed off, not in embarrassment, but at what her lowered gaze spotted. Grayson’s trousers, incorrectly fastened, and a large bulge tenting the close-fitting fabric. Oh God. She’d interrupted him with a lover. Perhaps a temporary companion, or that woman, Charlotte, on her knees, stroking and sucking his thick length. Or maybe he’d been readying her, expertly licking and fingering between her legs while she moaned and arched in pleasure.

“Something the matter, Eliza?” he said, one eyebrow raised, his emerald green gaze suddenly gleaming.

“Not at all,” she gritted out, hating the woman, whoever and wherever she was. “I didn’t mean to disturb.”

Grayson moved past her, then unexpectedly halted so he stood behind her. “Not at all, my dear,” he said silkily, and it took every ounce of her will to stay upright and not melt at the brush of his hard lips against her ear. “We are well-versed in accommodating unexpected guests.”

Eliza clenched her fists at the barb. “Oh, of course you are.”

“Tart words from my timid wife,” he replied. “If only you’d wanted to…damnation, Eliza, why are you here?”

“Sin’s wedding,” she said slowly, her heart pounding at the slight crack in his armor. Dare she push him further? “He invited me, based on our past friendship. Nothing to do with you.”

“Rubbish. You would have sent a charming gift with your deepest apologies. Something else prompted you.”

Eliza licked bone-dry lips. Her blasted husband knew her entirely too well, but he forgot she knew him like the other half of her, too. And right now he balanced on an edge she could practically see. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Liar. Do you want me to petition parliament for a divorce? Or perhaps you are lacking a lover and wish to make use of Fallen. Well, my lady, I would point you in the direction of an activity room, but fucking a passionless and oh-so-proper society spouse is not a popular option. They want to leave those at home—”

The slap echoed through the chamber like a pistol shot. Eliza stared at her hand in shock, but the pink hue of her stinging palm confirmed she had indeed just hit her husband across the cheek. Her gaze flew to his, bracing for anger and disgust at the unforgivable act. Instead, she caught a flash of something dark and raw. Hopeful. Almost pleading? “Grayson…”

“Yes, Eliza?” he said in a voice she’d never heard: low and warm and rasping. He wasn’t even making eye contact now but staring somewhere over her left shoulder, and his whole body was tense like a bow pulled taut, his erection undiminished.

A pulse thudded between her legs in the shrieking silence, and her nipples were so hard the muslin of her tea gown felt like sackcloth. All she wanted to do was kiss the mark she’d made. Haul Grayson over to the oversized four-poster bed, tear his clothes off, and take that thick erection deep inside her wet heat. Not passively underneath as usual, but riding him like a mount, gripping him, milking him, forcing him to release every drop of seed he had to give.

Owning him.

Horrified, Eliza jerked away, practically throwing herself across the room to slump onto the long embroidered chaise resting against the west wall. What kind of monster had she become? Hitting her own husband and being aroused by it?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said hoarsely, tears welling in her eyes. “That was inexcusable. I don’t even know what came over me. But it won’t happen again, I promise.”

Eventually Grayson turned and shrugged, yet an emotion lingered in his eyes that looked incredibly like hollow disappointment. How could that be?

“Forgotten already, my lady. Though should you tire of society life, you could probably make a few guineas in the ring. Pay a few spectators to rile that Irish temper of yours, and boom! Knock out, round one.”

“That is not funny. I slapped you!”

“Indeed. I was here for the experience, and I deserved it. For all I know, you could have a dozen lovers and an entire room for feathers, beads, and toys.”

Shaking her head quickly before the inexplicably alluring thought of sexual accessories could lodge in her mind, Eliza stood. “Again, I apologize, Grayson. If you’ll just direct me to a guest room, I’ll have my trunks moved in there and make myself scarce for the rest of the afternoon.”

Grayson blinked, then scowled. “There are no spare chambers. All have been taken by Sin and Grace’s out of town wedding guests until at least Saturday.”

“Oh.”

“I suppose we could share a bed tonight. I trust you’ll keep your pugilistic impulses in check, even if I do mutter something in my sleep. Not at all sporting to hit an unconscious man, no matter how provoking he is.”

She laughed. “I shall be a statue, I promise. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Instead of smiling in return, Grayson grimaced. “Oh, I’ll know. Dinner is at eight. Do you wish to join everyone or have a tray in here?”

“A tray, if that is all right. Two days in a carriage and I’m quite exhausted.”

“It’s fine. I’ll have one of the harem attend you. Until later, then.”

The moment she was alone, Eliza buried her face in her hands. A half hour in Grayson’s company, an argument, and she’d hit him. If she’d been smarter, she might have asked for the bank draft to save her parents while the handprint across his cheek still glowed. Then maybe broken a few priceless vases and insulted Sin, Grace, and Vice to really impress.