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His cruel hands held her down, pinning her to the feather mattress in her own bedchamber. Lady Sophie struggled with all her strength until she was completely tangled up in the flimsy material of her nightrail. In desperation, she choked on a sob. There was nothing she could do ... nothing but submit.
What a fate for the daughter of an earl! Though her father had never cared to spend more than a few moments a year in her presence, she had always had the protection of his name ... but perhaps she not even had that any longer. He was gone now. He had died over a year ago, leaving her the London town house and her mother's jewels ... neither of which could help her escape this nightmare.
His face was hidden in the shadows, yet she knew his identity without question. He was the same gentleman who had followed her across Hyde Park when she'd gone riding with Lord Griffon last Tuesday.
His dark gaze had troubled the back of her neck until she'd turned and spotted him. There were other times she had caught him lurking like a phantom, watching her as she flitted from one man's arm to another. His heavy brows always furrowed. His lips always pulled into a deep frown.
Was it a month ago now that he'd brashly entered her parlor during an at-home? She'd swiftly refused his advances and turned him out.
And now he had returned and was here ... in her bed.
He crushed his lips against hers, swallowing her protests while his hands roamed lower. Skin that felt hotter than the coals in the fire grate burned--seared--as his fingers trailed a path over her hips. His touch gentled when he reached the apex between her thighs.