Mad About the Earl Read Online Free

repulsive, more fool she. He ought not to marvel at how well disciplined she was. He knew something of her guardian, the Duke of Montford, after all. The man was famed for his ruthlessness and his insistence on the paramount importance of duty to one’s family.
    Were Griffin’s prospects of wealth and position so attractive to Rosamund that she’d refuse to be swayed by his ugliness? Rich, heartbreakingly beautiful, well connected … Surely this girl had her pick of titles and estates the length and breadth of England. She didn’t need him.
    She swallowed hard. “I don’t follow you, sir. Before we undertook this journey, the earl gave us to understand all was settled. Is—” She faltered and bit her lip. “—is there something about me that does not please you?”
    Oh, for God’s sake!
    Pairing such an exquisite creature with him must be someone’s idea of a joke—his grandsire’s, most probably. The question was, why the Hell did she play along with it?
    He stared hard at her. “Do you wish for the marriage, then? You are prepared to obey your guardian in this?”
    She averted her gaze. “I—I never thought … I never considered doing otherwise.”
    Fury burned through him, the same kind of frustrated anger that ultimately crashed in after an encounter with a willing bit of muslin. Those women never cared what he looked like as long as he paid handsomely for their favors. This marriage was no less a business transaction than a punter taking a whore, though it was dressed up in the trappings of wealth and respectability.
    Did Lady Rosamund have the slightest inkling of what she’d be called upon to do as his wife? He’d wager if she did, she’d turn tail and run. He couldn’t imagine this cool goddess accepting, much less enjoying his touch.
    Yes, he wanted her so much, he was near crazed with it. But he hated the feeling. The hurt and resentment of it tangled inside him until he couldn’t see straight.
    And that same impulse that made schoolboys pull pretty girls’ hair made him step toward her, boxing her in between his body and the stone wall behind her.
    She didn’t shrink back or cry out or weep. She simply looked up into his face. Her eyes were wide, pink lips slightly parted.
    What the Devil was wrong with the chit? Why wasn’t she screaming?
    His breath quickened. Brutally, he said, “There’d be no ordinary marriage of convenience between us, you understand? I’d want you in my bed. In mine alone.”
    Her color flared. When she spoke, however, her voice was even. “Naturally,” she said.
    Naturally? Was she touched in the head? Did she not understand what he meant? He sucked air through his teeth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    With a frown of impatience, she said, “I’m not a simpleton, Mr. deVere. I know what marriage entails.”
    The directness of her gaze threw down a decided challenge. Images of her tumbled naked on his bed flooded his brain, strangled the breath in his lungs.
    No. No, she couldn’t mean she’d willingly suffer his advances. It was all a ploy to get him to the altar. She’d do her duty and marry him, then wait until the wedding night to reveal her revulsion.
    The tangles in his belly drew into tight knots. Were his prospects so attractive to her? No other woman had been willing to risk herself in pursuit of his worldly expectations.
    As he stared down at her, a smile trembled on those plump, pink lips. Gently, as if speaking to a child, Rosamund said, “I’m not afraid of you.”
    The bottom seemed to fall out of his stomach. Apart from Jacks, he scared the living daylights out of every female he met.
    Unreasoning anger filled him. Suddenly, he wanted to scare her, to make her admit her fear. Otherwise, what chance did he have against her?
    With a strangled groan, Griffin gripped her waist and lifted her up and planted his mouth on hers.
    Fire surged through his veins at the first touch of those soft, warm lips. He ravished her