Forbidden by Susan Johnson (best feel good books txt) 📗

of further assistance, don't hesitate to ask." He was too polished to say, any lover Etienne champions deserves my special consideration, but clearly, that was what he meant.

"I should thank you, I suppose," Daisy stiffly said some moments later as she and the Duc walked down the gilded corridors to the main entrance.

"It's not necessary," the Duc said.

"Of course it is," Daisy snapped. "What's consumed over two weeks of my time in bureaucratic drudgery, you've accomplished in less than an hour."

"Charles simply owed me some favors. No need to take it personally."

"I think I should take it personally," she heatedly replied. "Charles doesn't do this for just anyone, does he?" The undercurrent of male bonding, that masculine clubism of exchanged favors permeated the entire interview, as did her position as the Duc de Vec's current favorite.

"Don't read anything pejorative in this, Daisy," the Duc calmly said, trying to deflect her anger. "He's done favors for me before and he will again."

"For others of your legion of lovers, you mean. He looked at me exactly that way."

"No he didn't."

"Please, Etienne, give me some credit." Her voice was waspish as she jerked the ribbons of her bonnet loose and pulled the flowery confection from her head. Lord, she hated bonnets, just as she hated the confining strictures of society that required a man's influence, a man's power, a man's word of command before justice prevailed.

"I wanted to help. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"Your entire life offends me," Daisy snapped.

He didn't rise to her anger. "There are times I agree with you," he simply said, looking very young this morning in riding breeches and a suede jacket. In typical royal fashion, she thought, he hadn't felt it necessary to dress appropriately for a meeting with one of France's ministers.

They were approaching the entrance to the building.

"Come driving with me," he said.

"No."

"I had your carriage sent away."

"I'll hire a hackney," she retorted, angry with another instance of his arrogance. "You had no right to do that and I'd appreciate you not doing me any further favors either. I don't need your favors, I don't want your favors, I do not wish to go driving with you, I would actually prefer never seeing you again." Her voice had risen as they passed through the doors. Resentful of his immense power, annoyed with the knowing look in Charles's eyes, she chafed most at her own overwhelming attraction to the most flagrant womanizer in Paris. She refused to fall helplessly into his arms like every other woman in his life. And he had no right to look so handsome and desirable, like a country farmer in from his morning ride, like goddamn dew fresh on the roses.

"Don't," he quietly said, taking her arm and stopping her.

"Don't what?" she asked, fighting the impulse to throw her. arms around him on the steps of the Ministry of Justice.

"Don't do this to me," he said very low.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she charged, her voice curt and pettish.

"I didn't sleep last night," he said.

"Good." And now you know how it feels, she wanted to add.

"It wasn't good." His hand was still holding her arm, his gaze looking down on her was fervent. "I drove by Adelaide's."

"I was sleeping," she said quickly.

"Were you?" His voice was barely audible.

"Yes—no… sometimes… never. Not at all. Not one minute. Are you satisfied now?" Her voice was sulky, her dark eyes glistening with angry tears.

He lifted her into his arms then, without regard for her reputation or his or his brother-in-law Charles's. In full view of gaping onlookers, he carried her down the busy steps of the Ministry in swift loping strides, set her into his waiting carriage, said, "Colsec" in a curt sharp order to Guillaume, jumped in, slammed the door, and snapped down the window shades.

"I don't care if you scream," he said, his voice a low growl as he pushed her silk skirt and petticoats aside with brusque, rough motions. "I don't care and Guillaume won't stop and when I get you to Colsec I'm seriously considering locking you up for me alone."

"You can't have every woman you want," she hotly retorted, fighting off his hands and the weight of his body as he forced her back onto the velvet seat cushions.

"I don't want every woman," he gruffly murmured, his fingers on the buttons of her bodice. "I want you."

"For how long, damn you!" Daisy screamed, pushing at his chest with all her strength, wondering briefly in a moment of sanity what Guillaume was thinking as the carriage swayed beneath their tumbling weight and their angry words penetrated the sunny morning air.

"Forever, damn you!" the Duc shouted back, grasping her flailing hands before they raked his face.

And she lay instantly quiet beneath him. "I don't believe you," she whispered.

Releasing her wrists, he took her face in his hands, not gently but roughly so she felt the strength in his hands, the rigid tenseness in his body. "I don't believe myself either," he harshly said, "but it's true and I don't know what the hell I'm going to do about it."

"Tomorrow or next week… I don't know what I'm going to do about it," he said a moment later in a low hushed growl, his green eyes heated and intense. He smiled an uncompromising smile of certainty. "Right now… I know."

"You can't… I won't let you…" Daisy's voice was sharp, her palms pressed hard against his chest, her exertions evident in the tendons of her wrists, the flush of her cheeks.

One dark brow rose. "Can't? Won't?" The Duc's words were the merest breath of sound. And his smile this time was cool. "In a different mood, Mademoiselle… one"�his eyes shut for a moment while he took a deep calming breath—"one less disjointed than my present state of mind… perhaps your words might register in some gentlemanly area of politesse…"

"However…" Daisy's single word was full of contempt.

"However." The Duc's response in contrast was mild, although his hands