Her bosom was full, especially for her small size, and the weight of it in his palm threatened to change his anger into something else entirely. For the briefest moment, he felt the impulse to turn her in his arms. Instead, he shifted his hold to preserve her modesty, then cursed himself for trying to be the noble gallant when she thanked him with a hearty kick in the shins. “Let me go!” “The game’s over,” he told her, crushing her resistance. He didn’t care about being noble or gallant, he told himself. If Jeannette wasn’t careful, he’d coax her into satisfying the hunger she inspired in him. Remembering how her body had once quivered like the string of a violin at his touch, he felt his pulse quicken. She wouldn’t be hard to press beyond denial. Here. Now. Seek his revenge in the only kind of pleasure a woman could give him. But he’d never had a highborn lady and refused to risk his career—at least any more than he’d already done—on this one. Taking hold of one wrist, he pulled her after him.
