Page 19 of Scandal With A Viscount

The girl stood, flustered, and hurried toward the house with a quick curtsey. Dunblane watched her go with an expression that made Georgie's fists clench at her sides.

“Are we jealous, little minx?”

Georgie scoffed. It would never be that. “Stay away from her.”

“Or what?” He stood from the bench, and his charming grin dropped. Underneath was the extent of his entitlement on display. The absolute certainty that he could take what he wanted and no one would stop him. “You'll cause a scene? Tell everyone your sordid little secret? I think we both know you won't do that.”

“You think I won't?” She stepped closer, not away. “Try me. I promise you, I will burn your reputation and mine to the ground before I let you lay a hand on that poor girl.”

His jaw tightened. For a second—one satisfying second—she saw something shift behind his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by that smooth, entitled calm.

“There’s a much more pleasurable way to solve this.” He caught her wrist. Not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to hold her in place. “Spend the rest of this party warming my bed, and I won't need to entertain myself with Miss Barrow.” He pulled her closer and dropped his voice. “If the rumor I heard is true, I imagine you're even better now.”

“Let go of me.” She tried to pull her arm free, but his grip tightened.

“I think part of you missed this. Missed me. All those men you've been keeping at arm's length—you were looking for what I gave you.”

“You gave me nothing.” She wrenched her arm free, but she stumbled in the process and fell forward right into his arms.

She planted her hands on his chest, trying to push him away.

“That’s much more like it.” He teased, pressing his lips to her left ear.

She turned her head to the right, trying to pull away from him and noticed a figure watching them.

Louis was standing at the edge of the garden path. She didn't know how long he'd been there or how much he'd heard, but his face—his face told her everything. His lips were curled in disgust and his gaze burned holes into her.

His focus was on Dunblane’s hand, which had drifted to her bottom.

“Louis,” she breathed.

He held up a hand. He looked at her for one more second—long enough for her to see the hurt—and then he turned and walked away, shoulders rigid and hands fisted at his sides.

“It seems your lover doesn’t want to share,” Dunblane teased, tightening his hold. “It seems you are free to be mine this evening.”

Georgie drew back her knee and slammed it into his groin, causing him to double over and release her.

She took the opportunity to hurry away from him, not looking back.

“Louis!” She called out, trying to catch up with him. If he heard her, he didn’t show it.

Her heart ached allowing him to believe for even a moment that she wanted Dunblane. He needed to know the truth. But what was the truth? That she wanted Louis. And it wasn’t just lust.

She followed behind and watched him disappear toward the stables. A few minutes later, a horse emerged at a gallop, heading for the open fields beyond the estate. Louis was gone.

For years she’d told herself she would be fine without ever knowing love. She'd built a life around finding independence in a world where women had very few choices. But what she felt for Louis was enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

If she let him go now, she would lose him. She knew it. He didn’t trust easily, and he believed she’d broken that trust. She couldn’t have that.

The groom looked startled when she asked him to saddle a horse. She was in a day dress and had no riding habit. But she didn't care. He opened his mouth to object, and something in her expression made him close it again.

Once the horse was readied, she mounted and pointed the horse toward the open fields where Louis had vanished.

No more running.

Chapter 8

Louis