Mad About the Earl Read Online Free Page A

mouth, hardly registering her reaction. He wanted to punish her, to show her how much she’d loathe suffering the intentions of a man like him. To strip away her veneer of acceptance and make her admit her disgust.
    But her soft, fragrant femininity called to him, a siren’s song that drew him, not only stirring his body but shaking him down to his soul. With a hoarse groan, he wrapped his arms around her waist and angled his head to delve farther into her mouth.
    *   *   *
     
    Instinctively, Rosamund knew this kiss was punitive and full of anger. She’d not the least idea what Griffin thought she’d done to deserve such treatment. Her mere presence seemed to ignite his wrath.
    His lips devoured hers with bruising force. One arm lashed about her waist, bringing her flush against his hard body. His other hand tipped the hat from her head and his fingers dragged through her hair. Pins scattered as her curls slipped free and tumbled about her shoulders in disarray.
    No man had ever tried to kiss her before, much less handled her with such furious mastery. Overpowered but not cowed by this giant of a man, she yielded in a way that would have shocked anyone who knew her. Treacherous thrills chased one another down her spine. A strange, melting warmth began low in her belly.
    He was immensely strong; his mouth gave her no quarter. Confusion, longing, and sheer curiosity warred within her. She’d dreamed of his kiss for so long, but she’d always imagined a careful, searching tenderness. Not the hard, domineering passion he showed her now.
    Rosamund put her hands on his shoulders with some vague notion of restraining him, but the powerful muscles that shifted beneath her palms made her forget her purpose. She knew a sharp regret that she wore gloves and couldn’t feel the texture of his skin beneath her fingertips.
    Griffin smelled of the stables, of earthy masculine musk and sweat and something more pungent, like varnish. Strangely, it didn’t bother her in the least.
    He set her on the low wall behind her so that her head was level with his. Then, he slanted his mouth and slid his tongue against hers in the most shocking, lascivious move. Rosamund gasped deep in her throat, choking on her own answering surge of desire. She could barely catch her breath for the way his firm lips plundered hers.
    A hot thread snapped inside her, unraveling, then coiling tight in the pit of her belly. Against her will, for a few heated seconds, she teetered on the verge of responding with equally fierce abandon.
    Oh, God, what was happening to her? Was she so lacking in pride that this assault—for it could not be termed a gesture of affection—stirred her passions?
    But it wasn’t the wildness of his kiss that moved her. It was the pain she sensed buried deep beneath the savagery. What must it have been like to grow up at the mercy of his cruel monster of a grandfather? No wonder he couldn’t believe she truly wanted to marry him.
    But she did. Oh, yes, she did.
    A wave of tenderness swept over her. With a soft sigh, she kissed him back, clumsily, eagerly. Her hands left his shoulders to frame his face and stroke through his thick, dark hair. Experimentally, she ran her tongue over his.
    Griffin froze. Then, with a harsh gasp, he wrenched his mouth from hers.
    She whispered his name, but he didn’t seem to hear her. His head was bowed; his big chest heaved. She felt the warmth of his ragged breath against her neck.
    After a long, tense moment, Griffin raised his head. Without looking at her or speaking, he lifted her from the wall and set her gently on the ground.
    She brought up a hand to touch her lips, to feel the imprint of his kiss upon them. “Griffin?”
    His gaze met hers. The baffled fury in those icy gray eyes made her hold out her hand to him. He stared at it as if she held a poisonous snake.
    Gathering her courage, she stepped forward gingerly, as if he were a wild stallion she sought to tame. Lightly, she brushed her