“Don't make this so hard,” she said, her voice only slightly more than a whisper.
His lips parted in amazement. “And why the hell should I not? You tell me why I should make it easy for you to walk out of my life again.”
“I never walked out on you,” she shot back. “You left. You.”
“Neither of us is blameless. You were quick to believe the worst of me as well.”
Victoria didn't say anything.
He leaned forward, his eyes intense. “I will not give up on you, Victoria. I'll haunt you day and night. I'll make you admit that you love me.”
“I don't,” she whispered.
The carriage came to a halt, and Robert said, “We seem to have arrived at your home.”
Victoria immediately gathered up her belongings and reached for the door. But before she touched the polished wood, Robert's hand descended onto hers.
“Just one moment,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“What do you want, Robert?”
“A kiss.”
“No.”
“Just one kiss. To get me through the night.” Victoria stared into his eyes. They were hot ice, burning straight into her soul. She licked her lips; she couldn't help it.
Robert's hand moved to the back of her head. His touch was achingly soft. If he had applied pressure or tried to force her, she knew she could have resisted. But his gentleness was disarming, and she couldn't pull away.
His lips touched hers, brushing back and forth until he felt her soften beneath him. His tongue moistened one corner of her mouth, then the other, then outlined the edge of her full lips.
Victoria thought she might melt.
But then he pulled away. His hands were shaking. Victoria looked down and realized that hers were, too.
“I know my limits,” he said in a low voice.
Victoria blinked, realizing with despair that she didn't know her own. Another second of his sensual torture and she would have been on the floor of the carriage, begging him to love her. Shame colored her face and she left the carriage, letting MacDougal take her trembling hand in his to help her down. Robert followed immediately after her, and then swore viciously when he realized where he was.
Victoria didn't quite live in the worst part of town, but it came damn close. It took Robert a good ten seconds before he was calm enough to say, “Please tell me you don't live here.”
She gave him an odd look and pointed to a fourth-story window. “Right there.”
Robert's throat worked violently. “You…are not…going to remain here,” he said, barely able to get the words out.
Victoria ignored him and began to walk toward her building. Robert had his arm around her waist within seconds. “I don't want to hear another word out of you,” he barked. “You are coming home with me this instant.”
“Let go of me!” Victoria struggled under his grasp, but Robert held firm.
“I will not permit you to remain in such a dangerous neighborhood.”
“I can't imagine I'd be any safer with you,” she retorted.
Robert softened his grip, but refused to relinquish his hold on her arm. Then he felt something on his foot and looked down.
“Bloody frigging hell!” He kicked his foot out wildly, sending a good-sized rat out into the street.
Victoria took advantage of his predicament by wrenching her arm from his grasp, and she ran to the relative safety of her building.
“Victoria!” Robert bellowed, following her. But when he yanked the door open, all he saw was a fat old lady with blackened teeth.
“And 'oo might you be?” she demanded.
“I am the earl of Macclesfield,” he roared, “and get the hell out of my way.”
The woman planted her hand against his chest. “Not so fast, yer lordship.”
“Remove your hand from my person, if you please.”
“Remove yer sorry ass from my house, if you please,” she cackled. “We don't allow men in 'ere. This be a respectable house.”
“Miss Lyndon,” Robert bit out, “is my affianced bride.”
“Didn't look that way to me. In fact, it looked like she didn't want anything to do with you.”
Robert looked up and saw Victoria peering at him through a window. Rage poured through him. “I will not stand for this, Victoria!” he bellowed.
She merely shut the window.
For the first time in his life Robert truly learned the meaning of seeing red. When he'd thought Victoria had betrayed him seven years earlier, he'd been too pathetically heartbroken for this brand of fury. But now—Goddamn it, he'd been bloody frantic for more than two weeks, not knowing what the devil had happened to her. And now that he'd finally found her, not only had she thrown his proposal of marriage back in his face, but she insisted on living in a neighborhood peopled with drunks, thieves, and whores.