Chapter 6

6

Alder House was a maze of corridors. Despite Penny’s clear directions, Millie found herself turned around three times before she finally stumbled upon a dark oak door. She could only hope it was the study as by now, she was at least five minutes late. The stern major general was sure to take a dim view of tardiness.

In her haste, she forgot to knock. Striding into the study, she stopped in her tracks. Drake stood facing the window, absently stroking his scar. He held a hand behind his back in a posture reeking of his time in the military.

Bollocking balderdash, the man is beautiful.

The word was all wrong. Far too feminine a term to describe his savage countenance, muscled limbs, thick chest, and shockingly well-formed buttocks. But beautiful is what she thought when she saw him.

He wasn’t wearing his coat, and his breeches stretched across a physique, putting Greek gods to shame. Heat washed over Millie. She knew her cheeks would be flaming red thanks to her fair colouring.

The infuriating man chose that moment to turn around.

Brilliant. He’s caught me staring at his bottom like some blushing, moon-eyed ninny.

He raised a broken eyebrow at her, his pale eyes missing nothing.

‘Miss Millicent.’ He took a moment to pull out a pocket watch and squint at the time. ‘I wondered if you’d escaped back to London, attempting to jilt me before the wedding guests descend upon us.’

Millie tried for a casual laugh but instead broke into a fit of coughing. Ever so sophisticated. ‘Capital plan, Major General Drake. We’ll save everyone the trouble of a tedious house party. If I did run pell-mell to London, or the wilds of Scotland, or even further abroad, our doomed nuptials need never occur.’

He took three long steps, eating up the distance between them until he stood so close, his chest almost brushed against her. ‘If you try to run, I will follow you, Millicent. And bring you back.’ His voice was a deep growl vibrating in the marrow of her bones. A delicious shiver tickled down her spine. ‘Hunters love the chase, you know.’

Damnation.

Clearing her throat, Millie willed her body to calm down. ‘Lucky for you, I’ve always preferred to stand and fight instead of fleeing, my lord. I’m not quite as cowardly as you think.’

He leaned infinitesimally closer. Cloves and cheroots tickled Millie’s nose as something warm and hungry unfurled in her belly. ‘I would never accuse you of being a coward, Millicent. You are far too bold for that. Though it does give one cause to wonder.’ For a moment, he lingered.

Her skin, unaccountably sensitive, shivered from the scrape of her corset against excruciatingly budded nipples. If she leaned forward, her lips would press against his.

Scandalous!

Before Millie could come up with a reply, he stepped away, breaking the spell.

‘I had Mrs Holland bring us refreshments.’

Millicent racked her brain to recall who Mrs Holland might be. Ah, yes. A plump lady with grey curls and dimpled cheeks. The housekeeper.

‘Sit. Eat.’ He gestured to a low table that held a tea tray complete with sandwiches and clever little cakes with orange icing.

Millie had only eaten broth and bread crusts for the last two weeks. Her stomach growled loudly. She slapped a hand against her belly, her blush flaring violently. ‘I apologise, my lord. Please excuse me.’ Patricia would have been mortified at Millie’s lack of decorum.

‘Sorry for what? You are hungry. I’d wager you haven’t had a good meal in many days.’ His voice softened, though his jaw clenched. ‘Eat.’

Millie blinked at his rough order. She lowered her voice to mimic his. ‘Sit. Eat. I’m not a dog to be commanded, sir.’

He clenched his jaw, the muscles contracting in a mesmerising display. ‘Eat, please .’ His granite voice could crush diamonds.

‘I’m sure you are used to soldiers, Major General Drake, who responded well to a firm hand. You’ll find women require a gentler approach.’

‘I’ve never had any complaints about my firm hands.’ His lips twitched, and something hot and wicked sparked in his eyes. Millie had no hope of forming an adequate response to that. Thankfully, he didn’t wait for one. ‘I am not a gentle man, Millicent. Something you’ll need to accept. But neither am I needlessly cruel. You are hungry. I wish you to be fed. Please , sit and eat something before you collapse.’

It wasn’t an apology, but he was right. She was famished. And the food looked delicious. She walked over to the table as he tracked her with his pale gaze.

He watched her like a dragon watched a virgin sacrifice. Though Millie was no virgin. A card she was willing to play if Major General Drake didn’t agree to her plan. No man wanted a soiled dove, regardless of how honourable he might appear.

His intense gaze unsettled her. Millie would do well to remember the danger an astute man posed. Drake was a private investigator for the prime minister, after all. Lady Philippa had warned her against the intelligence of Prime Minister Russell’s men. She couldn’t let him guess at her activities with the duchess. Where the prime minister and his men believed in the House of Lords to exact justice, the Queen was less convinced. What would Drake think of his sovereign taking such a vigilante view of justice? Millie would never know because she would never tell him, but it was something to ponder.

Millie walked to a couch and sat carefully, making sure not to lean back against the cushions. Even with bandages, her back burned. Her training hadn’t helped in the physical healing process, but she had continued with the demanding exercises because they eased her angry soul. Her training sessions were another secret Drake would never discover. For a woman prone to honesty, Millie would need to guard her thoughts and words carefully.

She poured a dish of tea and selected a sandwich. Fresh watercress, herbed cheese, crunchy cucumber, soft bread. Delicious. Millicent may have moaned.

Major General Drake’s eyes dilated. Black pupils almost completely eclipsed his icy irises.

Fascinating.

He took a halting step closer to her.

‘Tea, Major General?’ Millicent curled her lip in a smile. A hot cup of strong tea. Endless sandwiches. What was sure to be scrumptious tea cakes. Her hopes were buoyed. Her resolve to disentangle herself from this mess reaffirmed. Major General Drake was a man of logic and reason. Millie was confident they would find a path forward.

‘No, thank you.’ He wrinkled his nose, his scar tissue pulling against healthy flesh.

‘Ah. Not a fan of tea. Well noted. You wanted to discuss our situation, but I think perhaps I should start.’

Major General Drake raised a brow. He tugged his trousers up and sat next to her on the couch. His muscled thigh almost brushed against Millie’s skirt. Shocking, even with their impending nuptials. She should move away from him. Instead, she arched slightly closer.

‘By all means, Millicent.’

It was something about his voice when he spoke her name. Some kind of treacherous magic making her skin hum and her bones vibrate like cello strings. He was wreaking havoc with her ability to focus on anything other than the sensuous lines of his mouth. No man’s bottom lip should be so full and luscious. He had pressed that firm flesh against her own mouth, licking her like a lollipop.

Liquid heat pooled between her thighs as she pressed her legs against a hollow ache. What the Devil was wrong with her? A side effect of being starved, perhaps.

She bought herself some time by taking another bite of her sandwich. Her tongue darted out to catch a crumb, and Major General Drake’s gaze sharpened like a knife. He leaned ever closer.

She swallowed her bite, clearing her throat. ‘I would like to revisit my completely reasonable solution to our problem.’

‘Reasonable? Really?’ Drake’s dry tone was at odds with the dark heat sparking in his gaze.

‘When I s-seduced you at my ball…’ She hated the stumble. Her nerves were jangled as his clove and leather scent invaded her mind like a poisonous cloud.

‘Are you calling that clumsy attempt at a kiss seduction?’ He reached out and brushed his thumb against her lip. ‘Perhaps I should show you true seduction.’

Millie’s chest froze. Her lungs seized.

‘You had a crumb. Just there.’ His smirk was self-satisfied at her sharp inhalation. He knew his effect on her, the bastard. Major General Drake was much older, much more experienced, and he was toying with her. While she was becoming a simpering fool, he seemed barely affected.

Pull up your pantaloons and get it together!

Millie straightened her shoulders, shifting away from him and choosing to ignore his last comment. For there was no acceptable response, though her body screamed at her to accept his unspoken invitation. ‘I never expected you to offer for me, Major General Drake. Quite the opposite, in fact. I chose you because I knew your aversion to marriage. I had no intentions of trapping you.’

‘And yet here I am. A fly caught in your web.’

She snorted. ‘Please. I’m hardly a spider, my lord. If anyone is spinning webs, it’s my stepmother.’ Millicent couldn’t stop the involuntary shudder. ‘I was merely trying to escape the wedding she had planned. You were caught in her machinations. For that, I apologise. But I also believe the best way out is for you to cry off. That was always my goal. Just think how angry you can make Patricia. It’s clear you don’t like her. If you don’t want to agree to this for my sake, do it to spite her.’

‘I don’t make decisions based on petty and useless emotions like anger or love.’

Millicent froze with the sandwich halfway to her lips. She’d hardly consider anger or love to be petty. Powerful? Yes. Inconvenient? Most certainly. But petty? Surely not.

Lord Drake’s brow drew down in a frown that twisted his scar. ‘You wanted to be ruined?’

Millie laughed. ‘Such a ridiculous notion. Ruined. Because a woman’s only value is her virtue, right, Major General?’ Millie enjoyed watching his eyes widen and his mouth open as he attempted to find the correct response. She didn’t wait for his fumbling reply. ‘Yes. I wanted to be “ruined”. It was a clear solution to my predicament. But then you came along with your stupidly honourable proposal and dashed my carefully laid plans to pieces.’

He leaned back, his lips pressing into a hard line. ‘Stupidly honourable? That is a serious accusation to make, my lady.’

‘It is a serious situation, my lord. Pledging yourself to another for all your earthly days, for what? Reputation? A silly notion at best. And in this case, it’s a needless sacrifice on your part. I believe you are offering out of honour, but there is no dishonour in breaking an engagement with a woman determined to ruin herself and finally be free.’

‘So, you wish to release me from my promise, paying the price of social suicide to gain personal freedom?’

Millie smiled brightly. She knew he would see reason. ‘Exactly! While I appreciate your attempt to save me from my wicked ways, I have no wish for salvation. And by granting me freedom, you also liberate yourself.’ There. Done. Disaster averted.

Drake leaned against the couch, his hand flew back to the scar, his forefinger tracing the jagged rip across his cheek. Icy eyes sparked with something she couldn’t decipher. ‘How magnanimous of you, Miss Millicent.’

‘Thank you.’ But the warm bubble of satisfaction burst as Major General Drake’s lip curled into a cold smile.

Buggering blast.

He wasn’t going to make this easy. She knew it.

‘You asked me on the night of our engagement why I was offering for you, but we were interrupted before I could answer. I shall do so now. I’m marrying you not because I am an honourable man but rather because I am decidedly dishonourable.’

Millie frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Allow me to explain. I don’t care if you wish to be a single woman or one of ill repute. Your poorly planned escape from Viscount Tread created a situation that works to my benefit. I am in need of a wife. I was contemplating the arduous task of finding one when your fumbling attempt at seduction on the terrace solved my dilemma.’

Millie broke into laughter. ‘Surely you jest, sir.’

‘Rarely,’ Drake replied, his gaze still lingering on her mouth. ‘I’m going to ask you several questions, Millicent. I expect you to give me honest answers. Can you do that?’

Arrogant, pompous ass!

His tone begged for a blistering response. Millicent let the anger bloom. ‘I can do many things, my lord. Most of them better than you, I’d wager.’

His lips twitched. ‘I can only hope.’ Like a coin being flipped, his countenance shifted. Any levity fled as his ice-blue eyes hardened. ‘Do you find me abhorrent, Millicent?’

Millie huffed out a surprised breath. ‘What kind of question is that?’

‘The kind that needs an honest answer. Please.’ His rough voice hitched.

‘I find you…’ Millie paused. He asked for honesty. She would give it to him. ‘I find you fascinating.’

He froze, his gaze flicking back to her lips. ‘Monsters can fascinate people.’

‘So can mythical heroes. You are neither. Just a man. Yet still, I find you singularly captivating. That doesn’t mean I wish to marry you.’

Drake grunted, his finger once again finding the scar on his cheek. ‘My scars, they are far worse than what you see here.’ He leaned closer, running his fingers over the slash dividing his face. It was a fearsome wound, but Millicent found it did nothing to detract from Drake’s masculine appeal. ‘Some women have found them to be… less than desirable.’ He broke eye contact for a moment, and Millicent was staggered.

Dear God. He’s insecure. This powerful, dangerous, mysterious man is uncertain.

‘Some women have the intelligence of wet dough, Major General Drake. I am not one of those women.’ It became of paramount importance for Millie to make him understand that she was not rejecting him. Having suffered such injurious behaviour herself at the hands of St George, she would never wish to inflict such wounds upon another person, even one as insufferable as Major General Drake. She was rejecting an asinine offer brought forth by some ridiculously misguided sense of honour. ‘Releasing you from this engagement has nothing to do with your appeal and everything to do with my own desire to be free.’

He picked up her hand, placing it against his ruined cheek. The vulnerability in his gaze almost broke her. ‘I’ll know if you’re lying.’

Millie leaned closer. The scent of leather and cloves wrapped around her like a blanket. She was no stranger to desire, but the overwhelming tenderness coalescing with her need was unexpected and alarming. She shivered at the sensation of his warm skin beneath her hand. His stubble scraped over her sensitive fingers, contrasting the smooth scar tissue. Acting on instinct, she turned his head and pressed a kiss to his temple where the injury began. The room was so quiet. Their breaths created the only sound. Slowly, she moved along the scar, marvelling at how it changed beneath her lips, smooth in spots, rigid in others. She followed its course, pressing kisses to his eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, and finally, his cheek.

‘We all carry scars, my lord. Yours do nothing to diminish your desirability. Am I lying?’ she whispered in his ear.

Drake moved faster than she could countenance. One moment, she was leaning toward him, pressing chaste kisses over his scar. The next, she was lying on the couch, two hundred pounds of hot, hard, hungry man hovering over her. Her back screamed in protest, but she ignored it with brutal focus.

‘You are playing with fire, madame,’ Drake growled.

Millie thrust her chin up, refusing to back down from the challenge he presented. ‘I am not scared of you, Major General Drake.’

‘I wish I could say the same.’ He spoke the words like a curse, then fell upon her like a savage.

This was no mere kiss. This was an assault on her senses. His firm mouth crushed against hers, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. She should pull back, push him away, demand distance. But Millie was never good at doing what she should. Instead, she opened her mouth, granting him access. He stroked and teased until she mimicked his movements, testing the texture of his lips, teeth, and tongue. He nibbled along her jaw, nipping and sucking. She writhed beneath him, needing more. When his fingers tickled along the neckline of her modest day dress, she longed to be free of the constricting material.

Dear God. It’s glorious.

Her hurried coupling with St George was nothing compared to this incendiary exploration. She had no intention of marrying the man, but would it be so unforgivably wicked to explore this attraction?

Wicked or not, I don’t care. I want him.

Major General Drake was savouring her like some succulent treat, and she needed more. He palmed her breast, squeezing hard enough to flirt with sharp, delicious pleasure.

She moaned as he licked her neck, sucking her skin into his mouth for the most sinfully decadent taste.

A thick thigh pressed between her legs, simultaneously easing and increasing the hollow need growing there.

‘Do you burn as hot as I do, Millicent? Do you ache for me here?’ His thigh pressed harder. ‘Remember, no lying.’

‘I never lie… and yes, damn you.’ Millie hated being caught on her heels, but in this game of seduction, Drake was far more prepared than she.

Infuriating man.

‘I told you I would show you true seduction, and I am a man of my word.’ Drake kissed her again, plunging into her depths. His thigh tensed harder than granite against her core. Millie tipped up her hips, demanding rough friction. A small spark of intense pleasure came to life, and she wanted to fan the flame until it consumed them both.

Drake was in dire trouble. He had lost control of this meeting. And he never lost control. He needed to stop this madness. Immediately. Before he let the burning lust incinerate him.

Yes, definitely. In a moment.

He could kiss Millicent for the rest of his days and die happy. Her mouth was a treasure trove of pleasure. Drake nipped her bottom lip, then sucked it into his mouth as he massaged her breast cursing the yards of material hiding her from him.

Christ!

The woman was built like a siren. Luscious curves all tempting him into her depths to lose his soul forever in the swirling sea of desire. And he would dive into those dark waters without a moment’s hesitation. He had never felt so consumed before, not even with Nora.

Nora.

The thought of his duplicitous ex-fiancée hit as hard as a slap, bringing him back to his senses. He pulled back, watching the haze of lust slowly dissolve from Millicent’s dark gaze only to be replaced by confusion. She frowned, a crease forming between her brows. Ridiculously adorable.

Drake found nothing adorable.

‘What… why did you… did I do something wrong?’ Her husky voice inflamed him.

Drake sat back, taking deep breaths. He stood and turned away so she wouldn’t see his raging cockstand.

This was total insanity. Her soft, sweet lips pressing against his scar had broken something loose within him that he wasn’t sure he could put back. He valued control above all else, but she was decimating him one kiss at a time. Millicent wanted to release him from his proposal. He should agree to her plan and thank her for saving him from himself.

Nora almost destroyed him, and never did she stoke within him the kind of fire this woman sparked with just a few kisses. Millicent Whittenburg was far more dangerous to his sanity than she knew. He took a deep breath, preparing to accept her offer of freedom. He could find a different wife. A biddable creature who wouldn’t stoke his lust. But those words never emerged.

‘This whole situation is wrong. But I am a man of my word, Millicent Whittenburg. I made a promise. I will not break it. We will be married. There is no escape for either of us. You should never have chosen me. You have damned us both.’ He was blaming her for his own choice. He knew it. But the need to keep her warred with his desire to maintain control. Blaming her for his weaknesses seemed the best option to grant him absolution for his decisions.

‘Stubborn man! Will you persist in this marriage even if I’m not a virgin?’ Her words ripped out of her. Drake wagered they cost her more than she thought in a bid to force his hand.

He slowly turned to face his fiancée. Millicent’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened in a perfect ‘O’ at the obvious tenting of his breeches.

Ah, so. Not a virgin, yet still she blushes at the sight of a swollen cock. Interesting.

Drake found he did not care if she was intact or not, though the thought of another man touching her inspired a violent fantasy involving his fist and a yet-to-be-known bastard’s face. ‘As you so eloquently mentioned, Millicent, some people have the intelligence of wet dough. Thankfully – much like you – I am also not one of them. I find a woman’s virtue, and more importantly, her value, has nothing to do with her virginity. It might shock you to know I too am not a virgin, yet my virtue is pristine.’

He allowed himself a small smile as Millicent struggled to stand. Her breath came in heavy gasps. It did wondrous things to the modest neckline of her gown.

‘You insufferable, obstinate, arrogant?—’

‘Careful, dear. Remember, you’re speaking of your future husband.’

Instead of replying, she spun on her heel and stormed out of his study. Drake almost laughed out loud when she turned in the wrong direction, only to spin around and march the other way.

Their meeting had not gone to plan, but he hadn’t enjoyed himself so much in forever. How alarming.