Pricing The Heart

Chapter 25

Gritting his teeth, David fought against the lust that racked through his body as he led Eloise toward the mausoleum. His nerves were raw from the last few hours of grief he had endured, and it was that grief—the pain of it—that translated into a lecherous need to claim Eloise's body. It was an unwholesome need to take his frustrations out on her, to distract himself momentarily with the pleasure he might find in her body.

He shook his head to ward off the thought, but he was viciously aware of Eloise's presence; the way she clung to him as they approached the mausoleum, the way her hip pressed against his thigh, teasing his senses, and the way her breasts brushed his elbow, tempting him with the need to take them in his hands, and to give into the passion that stiffened his muscles.

Frustrated, he blamed her for his desires. She shouldn't be here in the first place! If she had obeyed his command to return home with Adam, he would not be faced with such a temptation! Keeping his gaze ahead as he fought to suppress his needs, he led her into the mausoleum and helped her settle on a concrete slab by the single window.

"Thank you."

He knew the smile that curved her lips was meant to relay her appreciation, but it did nothing but further agitate him as his gaze followed a drop of water down her neck into her dress. He pictured it sliding further down and wondered what it might feel like to trail his fingers through its track.

He swore, so loudly and sharply, Eloise jerked, her eyelids bulging as she stared at him. Hissing, he spun around to the closed door. Running his trembling fingers through his wet hair, he fought desperately to regain control of his emotions.

"David..." she whispered softly, her voice stoking the flames in his bones. He pictured her unclad body draped over his, her lips pressed to his ear, whispering his name.

He shook his head. "I do not appreciate your defiance, Mrs Taylor," he half growled. "You should have gone with the carriage! You should not be here."

A long pause followed his outburst.

"Perhaps. But you will admit to appreciating my presence, will you not?"

David let out a bitter chuckle. "I want to do much more than appreciate your presence." It felt like more of a need now, and it didn't matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tame it.

He heard her footsteps cross the concrete floor. When she paused behind him, he felt himself respond to her gentle touch on his back.

"Eloise..." he warned, gripping the doorknob. But she ignored his warning as she slid her arms around his waist and pressed her head to his back.

"You needn't resist." Her words sent an icy shiver down his spine.

He sucked in a shaky breath as he considered her words. She was right; he didn't need to resist his urges because she belonged to him. She was his to take as often as he pleased, and there was no one in all of England that could challenge his decision.

Still, he stood challenged by the voice of his conscience. He knew if he took her to his bed once, he would be unable to resist the urge to do it often. He would be forced to make her his mistress, and Eloise deserved better than that. She deserved more than he was willing—able—to give to her, and it didn't matter that he had paid the price required to own her. She was more than that. She was worth more than a meager one shilling. She was smart, kind, and beyond beautiful. She possessed the power to rule his thinking, to weaken his bones with a touch, and hers were lips he often longed to return to.

He would not defile her.

Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed her palm. "No." He released her hand.