A Love Worthy

Chapter Ten

How could she have acted so brazenly knowing Dorian wanted to be rid of her? If he wanted her gone, than why would he kiss her, touch her?

She had rarely seen him since that night. She knew not how her body would react once she did. Her mere thoughts had her brain rattled with questions and uncertainty to the reaction of her body whenever he came to mind.

She would have rather endured the company of the tons most notorious gossipmonger than have that unbearable brute as her chaperone!

Dorian braced his weight against the window sill, his left arm extended above his head and in his right hand, a glass of brandy. Ah, how he enjoyed these moments of distilled liquor and disturbing thoughts, he mused silently, anything to chase away the burning desire in his body.

He downed the last remnants of the glass and set it aside as he stared down at the arriving carriage. He was going to need a lot more brandy to get him through this night. Though Edmund Wilkinson was a dear and old companion, who willingly obliged his request to host Ginelle's coming out banquet at his grand home, he loathed the night's event and all its inhabitants attending. He had to continue to remind himself that this was a good happening.

Some poor sap was going to come along and offer a proposal that would finally rid him of his burden and he would gladly oblige the unfortunate bastard. His hands curled into fists at the thought of another man touching her.

He heard a knock at the door and ignored it. A second knock followed and he grounded his teeth until finally the door squeaked open. "Milord?"

Dorian turned to cast a dark glare at Bogart, but the older serf was not deferred by his Master's black expression. "The carriage has arrived milord; and one of the maid's have informed me that Mistress Ginelle is ready."

He said nothing but turned back to the window. He waited until Bogart left the room until he left the window to retrieve his waist-coat draped across the back of the chair. He eyed the brandy bottle with much contemplation and decided against it. He needed a clear head for this evening.

He left the confines of his study and descended the winding stairs where he found Bogart waiting with the coachman. He paused at the last step to retrieve a cigar from within the pocket of his coat but his fingers froze half way; his eyes captivated to the top of the stairs.

Ginelle made her way down, carefully gripping the banister as her legs melted like butter beneath that riveting, blue stare. Immediately she was taken aback by how striking Dorian appeared in his black waist-coat fitted to the contours of his big frame. Beneath it he wore a white linen shirt, opened at the front to reveal rippling, bronze muscle. His long, lean legs were encased in black breeches with patent leather boots to adorn his feet. His jet-black hair had been tamed for the evening, pulled back by a leather thong to accentuate the severity of his handsome face.

She felt a hot sensation stir in her belly as she remembered the way his arms felt around her, the way his mouth claimed hers so diligently and she blushed deeply. How could anyone look so wickedly handsome?

The way he looked at her, those glacial eyes moving slowly over the length of her in bold appraisal, intensified the searing flame threatening to consume her.

She felt that familiar shock of electricity and wondered if any man could affect her the way Dorian did? Those blue eyes seared her to the last step and she nearly lost her balance for that smoldering look had such an intense lure on her senses. His disposition reeked black with a grim expression etched into his granite face and she wondered where is that man who had kissed her so tenderly, so passionately in the forest?