15

A new fear settled in the pit of her stomach. She jerked on her arm in an attempt to free herself but to no avail. Her eyes were wide pools of uncertainty and fear as she struggled to keep her wits about her. "I said let me go."

She wrenched free of his hand and pressed her fists against his chest in an effort to push him away. She released a sharp breath as his fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck and stilled her frantic struggle. She felt a fleeting moment of panic before his mouth crashed down on hers. Her cries of protest were muffled against the sudden sweep of his tongue as his arm tightened, pulling her closer to deepen the kiss.

Ginelle struggled against him, terror causing her to panic at the sudden turn of events. Dorian was kissing her! This man whom she had been quite certain detested her, was kissing her! No one had ever kissed her before and it sent shocks of electricity throughout her body.

Just as quickly as the kiss had begun, it ended abruptly and he shoved her away. She quickly righted herself and pressed a shaky hand to her swollen lips as she stared at his livid back. "Get out and get dressed." She detected the imperative warning in that tone that if she defied him, there would be consequences.

Hesitantly, she made her way from the water as she cautiously watched his turned back. She quickly gathered her discarded jacket and donned it to cover the wet material that clung to her like a second skin. His kiss had not only frightened her but startled her. He had done it to make a point and his point was quite clear. She should not have ventured alone into the forest; though she was familiar with the stream, there were some uncharted regions that could have imposing dangers. She shivered at the thought and the warning in his kiss.

He turned then and she flinched as those cold, assessing eyes moved over her. He was right to make his point but it did not justify his actions, even now her bruised lips burned from the remembrance of his kiss.

Anger flooded through her for she had not deserved any of his cruel treatment. She closed the space between them and instinctively, delivered a slap to his roguish face. Strong fingers seized her wrist and tightened a fraction as the muscle at his jaw flexed where the imprint of her hand remained. She stiffened; horrified that she had slapped him as a minatory rage darkened his smoky eyes.

He jerked her forward until they were a mere breath apart, a glint of warning deepening the blue of his eyes as he said, "You tread on dangerous ground, milady."

As much as her body quivered with fear she wouldn't allow this man to control her. "Do not ever kiss me again." She wrenched her arm from his grasp and moved to untie her reins from the dangling limb. She felt his eyes boring into her back as she mounted the mare and turned the horse widely about. She took off at a frantic pace, not caring if he followed. Her heart thudded within her chest as she sought the sanctuary of her room. It wasn't until she reached her bedroom that she allowed the tears to come.

He swept an unsteady hand through his unkempt mane of black hair as he gripped the brandy glass nearly drained of its contents. Since he had returned to the estate he had refused to see anyone; his mood as black as the approaching night. His thoughts were plagued with images of large, unguarded brown eyes fringed in thick, black lashes. He brought the brandy glass to his lips as he remembered the taste of her kiss and how lovely she had felt against him.

He sneered as he slammed the glass down on the table and leapt from the chair. He paced the floor of his room, his temper rising for he could not rid himself of this sudden attraction that left him burning. Was it simply because he had not had a woman in so long? Or the fact that he could not have her?

This thought brought a grunt to his lips for he could have any woman he wanted, including a small, doe-eyed female that stirred him in ways unlike any other.

A sudden anger forced him from the study and into the narrow hall. He stalked the empty corridor until he found himself outside her bedroom. He lifted the latch and pushed open the door, all rational thought fled as he stepped into the quiet, dusk of the room. Instantly he found her sleeping form in the massive, canopied bed. He moved towards her, the candle on the side table flickering in protest as he stood over her, his eyes moving leisurely over the length of her body clad in a sheer, white chemise.

The warm glow proclaimed by a single candle cast a golden hue across her sleeping face, producing shadows to enhance the delicate cheekbones and defiant arch of her jaw. He reached out to touch a strand of white-blond hair dispersed across the pillows and marveled at its rich, softness. His heated gaze rested on the firmness of her mouth, slightly parted in her sleep. A sudden impulse to taste that honeyed mouth caused the muscles of his body to tense as he curled his fingers against the urge to touch her.

He was suddenly enraged. What was he doing? Why did he lust for this chit who had done nothing but stir foreign feelings and provoke him beyond recognition? This unwelcoming attraction was most disturbing and it was best he find a more willing and curvier woman to appease his lustful appetite.

Immediately he thought of Victoria but the image of the curvaceous redhead did nothing to the fire burning in his groin as his eyes studied the dark lashes caressing those delicate cheekbones. Victoria had been his mistress for years on end and always satisfied him but he suddenly found her exquisite beauty lacking in comparison to the angel sleeping before him. He allowed himself a moment to imagine what it would be like to have her; to claim her as his own.

Almost as abruptly as the thought occurred, he dismissed it for he was certain once he spent his lust in Victoria's arms that he would rid his body of this fire.

The best thing for him to do was marry the little chit off to the first suitor that came along. His hands curled at his sides at an unexpected emotion that bordered the line of jealousy seized him. He nearly laughed aloud at the ridiculous thought yet the feeling remained which only darkened his mood.

Ginelle had slept very little that night so when she had managed to sleep for a few hours, she was relieved when her eyes fluttered open only to feel immediate disappointment as her room still bore the remnants of darkness.

She felt her heart leap against her chest at the looming silhouette standing beside her bed. She was seized in an icy shroud of terror as a whimper escaped her lips and she bolted upright to put space between her and the man. Only then did she realize the shadow was immense and could not possibly be Pierino, but her recognition did nothing to appease her fear.

The man turned and his face was caught by the single candle still burning on her beside table. She released a startled gasp and her fear was overcome with anger. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"There is something you and I need to discuss."

That deep, authoritative voice made her tremble but she remained firm against his domineering front. "It couldn't wait till morning?" and then realizing she wasn't appropriately dressed, she quickly snatched up the coverlets and pulled them to her chin. "Or until I was properly clothed?" she seethed, as if he hadn't gotten his fill earlier that day.

Deep shadows played across the lines of his face and for a moment she fancied him handsome but she was quick to notice the deep scowl of disapproval and automatically dismissed the absurd compliment. "Pray tell what is of utmost importance that you had to come to my room in the middle of the night to tell me?"

"You are at a proper age for marriage." He stated solemnly.

She felt the blood rush from her face and she inhaled sharply. "What?"

"I have found a solution to our disagreement."

Ginelle gripped the blanket in a maddening grip as she stared at him, "Our disagreement? What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I will marry you off." His bold statement made her flinch. "You do not wish to reside at Ashford, nor do I. The solution is quite simple."

Ginelle narrowed her eyes at him, "I will not marry."

She stiffened as he leaned forward, forcing her back against the headboard as he planted both arms on either side of her. "You do not have a choice in the matter. You will marry because I demand it."

"You seem to forget that I am not of noble birth. Who would marry me, a lowly female with no title to her name?"

Dorian straightened, his face hardening as he replied, "My sister left you a sufficient dowry that would prove acceptable to a man pursuing a woman such as yourself."

His words stunned her. Eloise had left her a dowry? "I cannot accept that."

"The decision is not up to you." He said this coldly before turning and heading to the door. Ginelle inhaled sharply, outraged that he would dare make decisions for her.

She thrust the coverlets aside and jumped up from the bed. She came to an abrupt halt as he turned and she nearly collided against his chest. She refused to be intimidated by his hulking stature or the pressing fear that urged her back to bed. "How dare you!" she cried, "You could have just let me leave!"

"Where would you have gone?" he sneered, his temper flaring. "Would you have gone back to the streets?" she stiffened at this and he continued, "No, I did not think so."

Her eyes were smoldering and she wanted nothing more than to slap him as she had done earlier that day. "I will not marry."

His scowled deepened, "You will marry." With that said, he left, slamming the door in his angry departure.

Ginelle stood glaring at the door, her nails digging into the flesh of her palms as she bit down on a stream of words she had heard Pierino utter many times in a fit of rage. Her heart ached for Eloise and her father, the only two people who had ever loved her, yet both had abandoned her.

Dorian Ashford was absolutely infuriating. Eloise had given her a dowry, making her acceptable to all aspects of marriage but what if she found marriage unacceptable? How dare Dorian Ashford demand she marry!

She vowed that no man would make decisions for her. No man would possess her. No man would ever hurt her again.

It was quite evident that he couldn't wait to rid himself of his excess baggage. She was nothing but a difficulty to him.

She returned to bed as a thought came to her. She would play into his game. She would make him believe that she had willingly succumbed to his demands but she would not submit so easily. She would find a flaw in every suitor that came to court her. She would not be married off to the first money-grubber that came along, nor would she allow Dorian to have control of whom she married, if she married.

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