Chapter 15

That Same Evening, Several Hours Later

Even Io knew that three dances with the same partner was beyond the pale behavior.

But Axbridge was a duke and he did not seem bothered by the sly looks and tittering they were attracting, so she wasn't, either. Especially not when she saw the expression on Edith's face. Although the sour woman claimed she would not attend the ball, Io saw her sitting at a prominent table, like a specter at a feast, surrounded by similarly sour-faced women whom Io suspected were chaperones and the like.

Infuriating Edith had not been even half as rewarding as causing the veins in Masterson's temples to bulge more fiercely with every dance.

"I know you are using me."

Io's head whipped up at the duke's voice. While Axbridge was not smiling—she wasn't sure he knew how—there was an amused glint in his dark brown gaze.

Why lie? she thought.

"Yes, I am," she admitted, sneaking another look at Masterson before turning her attention to the handsome man currently leading her around the massive dance floor in a waltz. "Why do I think you might be using me a little, too, Your Grace?"

He gave her a sardonic look. "Using is such a harsh word."

"I'll remind you it was your choice."

"So it was," he agreed mildly. "To be fair, I'm not sure how I could have politely rejected your requests for the second and third dance."

Io laughed. "No, I daresay I put you in an uncomfortable position."

Axbridge shrugged slightly. "I could have simply left the ballroom if I had truly wanted to avoid you."

Io was amused by his cool, unchivalrous retort. Here was a man more reserved than Zeus and more rigid and judgmental even than Masterson. She could tell by his faint, supercilious sneer that he did not approve of her in the least—he probably did not even like her—and yet he could have left the dance to avoid her attention, so Io must have been providing him with at least a little diversion.

"Have you ever been asked by a woman to dance before?"

"No," he said. And then Io swore he almost smiled.

"I have been unforgivably forward and vulgar, Your Grace."

"Forward, perhaps, but not vulgar."

"My brother's fiancée would say they are the same thing."

His dark eyes flickered toward Edith and he blinked slowly before turning back to Io. "Miss Barrymore seems a very proper sort of young woman."

"Unlike me, you mean?"

"I would never suggest such a thing." This time he did smile and the expression made his already handsome face stunning.

Io laughed. "Of course not. So, Your Grace, we both know why I'm doing what I'm doing," she said, relieved to have the truth—or at least part of it—out in the open. "But why are you shattering convention by dancing three times with me? Other than because you are a gentleman."

"My answer will sound arrogant."

"Who cares how it sounds if it is the truth?"

"I find your attitude refreshing. Unfortunately, few among our circle will share it."

"So my brother's fiancée tells me. Daily. But don't try to deflect my question. Tell me why you are dancing with me. I don't think it was only because you are too gentlemanly to reject my offers. I noticed that you had not danced a single set until you asked me for that first dance. Why not? There are at least a hundred women all gazing at you with stars in their eyes while their mothers are all but throwing daggers at me."

"That is the reason."

"Ah, I see. You are tired of being hunted."

"Just so."

"How do you know I'm not hunting you?" He lifted one eyebrow and Io laughed. "Am I really that obvious?"

"Not as obvious as the target of your interest. No. Do not turn and look at him just now—he is glaring at you—and me—and wearing a most un-Pilgrimish expression of jealous fury."

"Now I really want to turn and look. Masterson is usually the epitome of cool disinterest."

"Ah, but not if you know what to look for," he countered in a blandly disinterested tone that made Io laugh.

"We have a saying for that in America."

"Oh?"

"It takes one to know one."

"How quaint. No—" he said when she would have turned to look at Masterson. "You must restrain your curiosity, my lady. Take my word for it that you are driving him to distraction."

Io laughed yet again. "You are not making this easy, Your Grace."

"Things that are not easy are often the most rewarding. Besides, I do not believe he will be able to restrain himself much longer." He lowered his voice. "Ah, you see—I am right. Here he comes now," the duke added as the dance ended.

Io was not even off the dance floor before Masterson's hand closed around her arm. "I will escort Lady Io to her brother's side," he snarled at the duke.

Axbridge merely raised an eyebrow—a gesture that was so infuriating Io vowed then and there to learn how to do it—and then bowed slightly to Io and drifted off without speaking a word.

"Annoying, arrogant jackass," Masterson bit out before all but dragging her across the room.

"What are you doing?" Io asked laughingly, enjoying his jealous devolution into primitive man far too much.

"We are going to have a discussion."

"Mm, about what, I wonder?"

He ignored her taunting as he blatantly frog-marched her from the room. Or at least it felt blatant, although a quick look around told her that nobody seemed to be paying them much mind.

"I hope this does not take long as I'm committed for the next set of dances," she said as he picked up speed once they were out in the corridor.

"To Axbridge, of course."

"Who else? Why do you look so angry, Masterson? Have I done something amiss?" Io winked at Charles, the footman, who was staring at them with a very un-Viking-like look of surprise.

He ignored her taunt and flung open a door, dragging Io into a small sitting room.

She glanced around. "I don't believe I have ever been in this room before."

"Shut up," he snarled, and then slammed the door and threw the lock before turning to her.

"Why, Mr. Masterson, you seem almost—"

"Just what are you up to dancing with that—that—"

"Duke?" she suggested.

His gray eyes narrowed. "Is that what you are after? His title?"

"What business is it of yours if I am?"

Masterson's cold gaze suddenly flared to life.

And when he grabbed her, Io wondered if she had finally pushed him too far.

***

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Corbin raged between clenched teeth as he yet again dragged her, this time toward a settee.

"Quit fighting it, Masterson."

"Fighting what, you—you merciless jade?"

"Merciless jade?" She laughed and her eyes became liquid heat, her full lips slack and lush. "You know you want me," she taunted, her gaze dropping to his mouth. "Kiss me, Corbin."

This is a dreadful idea! Dreadful! Dreadful! Voices screamed in his head.

Corbin ignored them and slammed his mouth over hers.

And then yelped and jerked back when her sharp teeth sank into his lower lip.

She stared up at him with blood—his blood—on her white teeth and plump lips, her pupils huge.

Corbin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glanced at the blood before looking up. "You vicious bitch!"

Lady Io smiled taunting up at him, temptation in female form.

***

"You vicious bitch," the unflappable Corbin Masterson roared.

Finally. Finally, Io had done something that got through his ironclad reserve.

Io smiled.

You are taunting the beast, a niggling voice whispered.

But the pulse of desire emanating from between her thighs was so loud it drowned out the voice of reason.

And then Io's world spun—literally—and she shrieked as Masterson's hard thighs pressed against her abdomen, the elegant Aubusson carpet scant inches away from her nose.

"What do you think you are doing?" she demanded shrilly.

"Who is the domesticated lapdog now, my lady?"

"Have you gone insane, Masterson?"

"I think I am sane for the first time since meeting you," he muttered under his breath.

"Let me up immediately!"

You could at least struggle a bit to make that sound convincing, a sly voice suggested.

"I told you in Northampton what you deserved—what a brat needed—and now you are going to get it."

Io's body stiffened in shock, and something deeper and more unnerving, as his hand, large and strong slid down her back to her buttocks.

"You would not dare." She had meant to come across dismissive and mocking. Instead, she sounded breathless and excited.

And needy, the same voice whispered.

"Wouldn't I?" Masterson retorted, his voice a darkly amused purr.

"If you so much as—Ow!" Io yelped as her bottom suddenly combusted.

"That's one," her tormentor said, his hand resting on the still-stinging flesh. "How many do you deserve, hmm?"

"If you strike me one more time, I will—ow!"

"Two." The hand on her back flexed when she tried to get away. "Be a good girl and quit squirming—or I will just add more."

To Io's horror, his words caused her sex to flood with heat.

Above her, Masterson made an approving humming sound when her body went limp. "Yes, that is much better."

"You vile bast—"

The hand that had been gently, and distractingly, rubbing her bottom, suddenly clamped over her mouth. "I don't want to hear that sort of language out of your mouth, my lady."

"Go sod yourself!" she shrieked. Or at least that is what Io tried to yell. Unfortunately, all that came out was. "Uff uff uff uffff!"

"Tsk, tsk. I understood the gist of that." Masterson's big body suddenly folded over hers, the action bringing his mouth near her ear. "One more outburst like that and I will gag and bind you."

A mortifyingly needy groan escaped before she could stop it, making Io hate herself even more than she hated him at that moment.

He gave a low, evil chuckle. "I think you would like that, wouldn't you? Collared, kneeling, and obedient—wasn't that what you said? With my hand holding your leash."

Io inhaled deeply to tell him what he could do with his collar, leash, and hand.

"Shhhh," he whispered before she could utter a sound. "I am going to take my hand off your mouth and you are going to behave like a good girl. You won't get another warning. The next time you curse or yell I will strip off my belt and bind you hand to foot. If that is what you want, then disobey me again." He paused. "Nod if you understand me."

Io gritted her teeth against the raw lust invading every fiber of her being, her heart pounding so hard that her ribs ached, her thighs so slick that evidence of her arousal would soon be visible.

She groaned at the mortifying thought.

"Hmm? What was that?" Masterson asked.

You had better nod, or else he will learn the true depth of your desire for what he is offering, a wryly amused voice cautioned.

Io jerked her head.

"Good girl." His big warm palm slid away from her mouth and returned to her bottom.

Say something! What is wrong with you? her pride shouted.

Io opened her mouth. And then abruptly shut it again when he began to lightly caress her buttocks, although not quickly enough to stifle a grunt of arousal that slipped between her lips.

"That's better. See how nice I can be when you please me?"

Io caught her lower lip with her teeth to keep from retorting.

Or groaning again.

He continued his caressing, but she refused to be lulled, her body taut as she waited for the next blow.

"It will hurt less if you relax. Trust me," he murmured in a low, disturbingly sensual voice she never would have imagined him possessing.

It took effort, but she forced her muscles to unclench.

And then his hand disappeared, and Io squeezed her eyes shut. "Ow!" she shouted before she could catch the cry. "Sorry," she blurted, and was immediately furious at herself for apologizing.

"You don't need to apologize. I like hearing you whimper."

She gritted her teeth at his gloating tone, imagining what she was going to do to him once she got free and—

"Ow!" she yelped, although it sounded distressingly like a moan to her ears.

She could only hope that Masterson didn't notice her body's reaction and had no idea what this was doing to her.

"Four," he said calmly, gently rubbing her now flaming buttocks. "You're doing so well."

She preened at his praise.

And the next time his hand came down, Io didn't even try to hide her moan.

***

"Ten," Corbin said, his voice hoarse with lust. He knew a man couldn't die from a painfully hard cock, but it seemed possible at that moment.

You once swore to her that she could never manipulate you with her adolescent antics. Now look at yourself, all but unhinged!

Corbin sometimes felt like he had been suppressing his urges all his life. Always painstakingly careful to never allow his passion to gain the upper hand as it had once before, all those years ago, when he had discovered just how easy it was to carelessly destroy somebody else's life.

But suddenly, Corbin simply could not bring himself to care about anything.

At least not about anything other than slaking the seemingly unquenchable thirst this woman had created within him.

He palmed her soft, full buttocks, wondering if Lady Io could feel the way his hand shook. After the fourth swat, her body had gone limp. After the fifth her cries had undeniably turned into moans.

He was not the only one aroused. Not by a long shot.

Don't say it, Corbin. Do. Not. Say. It!

"Are you wet for me, Io?"

She jolted and made a noise that sounded like, "Whryrgh."

"I think you are. Should I check?"

Her breathing quickened and Corbin waited for her to reel in his insanity and tell him no.

Stop me now, he silently pleaded.

Instead, she spread her knees an inch, the invitation unmistakable.

Corbin did not hesitate, pulling up the short cotton skirt and plain petticoat with shaking fingers and exposing those blasted bloomers that so incited him.

When his hand brushed against the damp split, he bit his lip, not caring that he reopened the cut she'd made earlier. "My God," he groaned, sliding a finger through her drenched, swollen folds.

"I hate you, Masterson," she moaned. And then she spread wider for his touch, canting her plump bottom and offering herself up to him.

"Shut up and take it," Corbin muttered, and then slid a finger into tight, wet heaven of her body.

His eyelids fluttered shut as he pumped her with slow, lazy strokes. How long had he wanted this? From the moment that he'd first seen the evil, hazel-eyed bitch in Hastings's drawing room all those weeks ago? Maybe even before he'd met her?

Corbin had always enjoyed his lovers and their bodies. But never before had he felt a physical, unstoppable compulsion to wreck his life and throw away friendships and everything he'd worked for just to be with someone.

Io Hale would be the end of him.

And Corbin would go down without a fight.

***

Io didn't just hate Masterson—she hated how much she wanted him even more.

She hated how badly she wanted to feel his thick erection—which was currently pressing against her hip—inside her, stretching and filling her until it hurt.

That's what she wanted, what she craved.

But she'd happily settle for his fingers, which were astonishingly skilled for a man who'd once considered a career as a Presbyterian minister.

"You are a naughty, filthy girl, aren't you, my lady?"

Oh, God.Io's hips gave an involuntary buck. If there was one thing she loved more than a confident, masterful lover, it was a confident, masterful lover with a dirty mouth.

"Aren't you?" he whispered in her ear, his finger missing her clitoris in a way that had to be intentional given his dexterity up to that point.

He suddenly stopped stroking her altogether. "Answer me."

She opened one eye and glared at the carpet. "You cannot be seriou—"

His finger began to withdraw.

"Yes!"

"Yes, what?"

She growled. "Yes, I'm naughty!"

"And filthy?" he prodded, both with his words and his divine finger.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted in time with each thrust. "I am a naughty, filthy girl."

His smug laughter vibrated from his chest through her body. "Good. Now you will come hard for me."

God help her, Io did exactly what he told her.

***

Corbin's balls ached—so did his prick. But he deserved to suffer pain and frustration for the idiocy of what he had just done.

He must be losing his mind, there was no other explanation for his unprecedented behavior. Not only had he never raised his hand to a woman before, but he'd certainly never spoken words like those that had just flowed out of his mouth.

The body draped across his thighs shifted lazily, reminding him that he'd not yet paid the piper for his recent foolishness.

He needed to apologize for spanking her—it didn't matter that she'd obviously enjoyed it. What he'd done had been reckless and wrong. Deeply wrong.

It had also elicited one of the most erotic reactions he'd ever received from a lover.

But that was beside the point.

Io grunted softly and tried, but failed, to turn.

Corbin slid his hands beneath her and rolled her into his arms, until she was cradled against his chest and staring up at him, slit-eyed, flushed, and sated.

He almost spent in his trousers just looking at her.

Her lips curved slowly. "You must be a naughty, filthy boy yourself to have such exquisite skills, Masterson."

Corbin snorted and shook his head. Trust Io Hale to come out of a debauched encounter without an ounce of shame.

She squirmed, rubbing her lush bottom against his throbbing erection.

Corbin hissed in a breath.

Her smirk told him the action was intentional. "I'd offer to see to that for you, but you wouldn't want to take advantage of an unmarried maiden, would you?" She reached up and caressed his cheek.

Instead of pulling away as he ought to have done, Corbin pressed against her palm, all but purring at this unprecedented show of affection.

And then she scratched him.

He cursed and shoved her away.

She laughed and scrambled inelegantly to her feet.

"What on earth is wrong with you?" Corbin demanded, rubbing a palm over the already rising ridges on his cheek.

"Poor Masterson," she cooed mockingly. "You were expecting wide-eyed wonder and gratitude because you know how to give a woman an orgasm?"

The urge to grab and spank her again was almost overwhelming. But then he remembered how much she enjoyed it.

You were going to apologize, remember?

Not bloody likely!

Corbin stood and straightened his coat, the irony of his costume—after what he'd just done—not escaping him. He scowled down at his tented Pilgrim trousers, evidence that while his brain might loathe Io Hale, his body was infatuated.

When he looked up, it was to find her staring at his groin. "You might want to take a few minutes to deal with that before you go back out there."

And then she sailed from the room, leaving Corbin erect, furious, and more besotted than ever.