Page 2 of The Cutthroat Countess

“Is that what you want? For me to behave like a lady?”

He gave an exasperated sigh. “You know I like you just as you are.”

“Never mind,” she muttered, and then kissed him hard. She kissed until his body started to respond and then pulled away.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, reaching for her.

“I’m behaving like a lady.”

“Like a temptress, more like.” Elliot gave a frustrated laugh.

“That’s one of the few lessons I’ve not yet had.”

“Trust me, you don’t need any training in that area. Come, tell me how things have been progressing with your new family. We’ve only got a few minutes alone before we’ll need to return.”

“Or we could just use that panel right there”—she gestured down the corridor—“which I know for a fact leads to the servant stairs, and then we could run off to the Continent together.”

“Jo.”

She groaned. “What do you want me to tell you? That I’ve enjoyed myself? It’s torture, Elliot, pure and simple.”

“Haven’t you enjoyed any of it?”

“No.”

“Not even shopping with Marianne?”

“If it were only Marianne, that would be bearable. And if we were shopping for something of interest—like new knives or a mount—that would be enjoyable. But it’s my cousin and Marianne’s aunt and some bossy, annoying modiste incessantly pecking away at me. And it’s constantly trying on clothing and hats and sipping gallons of tea and talking about things that don’t matter and—urgh!”

Elliot claimed her mouth again, and this time, his kiss was thorough and languid and sensual. While it didn’t calm her pulse, it did steady her nerves.

And then he pulled away just when the temperature in the chilly gallery began to spike.

Jo scowled up at him. “What’s the word for a male temptress?”

“As far as that sort of thing goes, the only word you need to know is Elliot.”

Jo rolled her eyes.

“I see your cousins have not warmed to me yet.”

“They believe I should meet other eligible men.” She snorted. “Eligible. What a loathsome word. I would rather eat a block of wood than meet men—eligible or otherwise.”

“Maybe you should. Not eat a block of wood,” he clarified at her disbelieving look. “But maybe you should meet some other men.”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you trying to rid yourself of me?”

He grabbed her upper arms roughly and yanked her against his body. “Don’t be a fool.” He claimed her mouth with a kiss that was as hot and brutal as a brand, and it served to make her already aching sex throb even harder.

Jo sucked his tongue when he crudely pantomimed his desire for her. She pushed closer, sliding her hands over his tight, hard buttocks, which felt sinfully good sheathed in satin. She insinuated her fingers beneath his tailcoat and under the waistband of his breeches, grazing the even smoother satin of his flesh.

Naturally, he chose that moment to pull away.

Again.

“Tsk, tsk,” he chided in a gratifyingly breathless voice.

Jo groaned. “Can’t we do as we did at Sin and Marianne’s ball and sneak out early?”