_______________
“You, there. What is your name?”
The man’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. “Lord Denby, Your Grace. My name is D-Denby.”
Philip nodded. “Very good. Denby, my dear fellow, I believe you have something which belongs to me.”
A bead of sweat popped out on the man’s forehead. “Y-Your Grace?”
The woman, who thus far had only watched the proceedings with an amused smile, narrowed her eyes at Philip and tightened her grip on Denby’s neck. “He means me, Lord Denby.”
“Oh.” The man started, and with trembling fingers grasped her arm, frantically trying to push her away. His breath came in short gasps, and he looked at Philip with a plea in his eyes. “She won’t come loose, Your Grace.”
“Oh, Denby, you coward,” she murmured. With a toss of her head, she detached herself from him and rose gracefully from his lap. She stared up at Philip for a long moment, her bright blue eyes daring, mocking.
When she attempted to brush past him, he caught her arm easily in his hand.
The entire room hushed. Philip could feel the heat of a hundred eyes scrutinizing his every movement.
Tomorrow morning this would be in the scandal sheets, upon everyone’s lips. Even if he wished it, there was no going back now. He had made his decision.
Her chin had lifted when he halted her departure, and he smiled down at her, a quick flash of teeth. Her sharp indrawn breath gave him no small measure of satisfaction; she was not as immune to him as she would have him believe.
“Lord Denby,” he said, his eyes still focused on her sweet, temptress face.
“Yes, Your Grace?”
Philip maneuvered her until she stood between them. “Be a good fellow and hold on to her for a moment, would you? Don’t let her escape.”
“Er, yes, Your Grace.” Denby settled his thick, ring-laden fingers on her shoulders.
“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded, twisting in his grip, her eyes furious, darkening from sapphire to the dusky haze of twilight.
Philip ignored her struggles. He drew her arms together with one hand and draped his cravat over her wrists with the other. Then, quickly so she didn’t have a chance to resist, he knotted the material and gave it a tug.
Perfect.
“Very good. You may release her now, Lord Denby.”
“What are you doing, Philip? This is ridiculous. Untie me at once!”
It had been a very long time since she had said his name. Even though it fell like a curse from her lips, it was good to hear it, all the same.
Philip grasped her upper arm again and looked around the room. Trollops and whores, rakes and scoundrels gaped at him, openmouthed. He nodded to them, ever aware of the sinuous heat seeping from her skin—a twisting, vagrant fire now burning past his gloves to the flesh of his palm.
The woman tried to jerk away, but Philip held her tightly. He would never let her go again. “Release me, you arrogant son of a—”
Philip clapped his hand over her mouth. With a shake of his head, he withdrew a linen kerchief from his pocket. “I had hoped this wouldn’t be necessary, but you force my hand, dearest.”
She tried to sink her teeth into the flesh of his palm, but fortunately he withdrew it in time. He was certain she’d meant to draw blood. While she sputtered more curses, he proceeded to wrap the cloth around her head, careful only to muffle and not gag her. He tied it at the back of her head, his fingers lingering on the silken tresses of her upswept hair. The sable locks gleamed beneath the dim, smoky lights, tempting his restraint, provoking memories of a time when his hands had tangled freely in her hair. When she had sought his touch, his embrace—
Philip wasn’t fast enough to block her kick, her foot connecting painfully with his lower shin.
He crushed her against him, her back to his front, his hands clasped together beneath the delicious swell of her breasts. He tried to move her toward the door, but she hung like a dead weight in his arms. Only when he dragged her did she begin to writhe against him, her body pitching against his.
His audience had apparently recovered from their stupor, for their voices rose in a fevered crescendo as he neared the exit. But the noise was only an indistinct rumble in the background as he focused on her attempts at freedom.
Her elbow managed a sharp blow to his ribs. Philip grunted, then hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her out the door. Her gag was loose enough that her curses brutalized his ears, but Philip continued on with grim determination. She struck his back with her bound fists at every step, but he didn’t stop until he stood in front of his carriage.
The groom opened the door.
“Here we are.”
She shrieked as he dragged her down and shoved her headfirst through the entrance, his hands helping as they pushed against her bottom.
“Damn you, Philip!”
He climbed in after her, careful to avoid stepping on her skirts or any scattered appendages. Leaning down, he grabbed her by the elbows and assisted her to a seated position.
The door closed, the carriage shifting as the coachman and groom took their places. The sharp crack of the whip rent the air, and they were off.
Philip allowed a brief sigh of victory.
He’d done it. He had kidnapped his wife.
Doesn’t that sound awesome? Would you like to win a copy? Check out Ashley’s guest post and Ames’ review to find out how you can.
Seducing the Duchess is available from Signet. You can buy it here
Wonderful excerpt! Enough to intrigue and leave us wanting!!
I am hooked!
The excerpt sure got me giggling. Too bad Charlotte never learned how to break a hold or else Denby couldn’t have held her for Philip, but then there wouldn’t be this great scene.