Ashton’s patience was on a razor’s edge. With one hand on Lady Rosalind Melbourne’s arm, he’d seized the opportunity to tow her into the seclusion of a nearby alcove. He feared what he might do now that he had her here.
Every muscle was tense, every sense heightened with excitement and, to be honest, arousal. It made no sense. He was furious with the lady. Anger and arousal had never gone hand in hand with him before, so why did he want to push this particular woman up against a wall and ravish her until she couldn’t remember her name?
“I must speak with you, madam,” he said, his tone dark and full of warning.
Rosalind struggled against his grip, and to his surprise Ashton found her difficult to hold down. With a rebellious toss of her head, her raven-hued locks flew loose over one shou
