At the Spanish Duke's Command by Fiona Hood-Stewart

decide.”
    â€œReally? Well, I have nothing to say to you—now or ever.” Her chair scraped the parquet floor as she rose abruptly.
    â€œBut, Georgiana,” the Condessa murmured, “surely you can spare Juan a few moments?” She frowned. “After all, he is your host.”
    Grudgingly Georgiana realised she was not going to be let off the hook. A blush reached her cheeks. “Very well,” she muttered in a tight voice. “But I have to be at the university in an hour.”
    â€œThat is not a problem. I will drop you off there myself.”
    â€œBut Jacobo is waiting. He—”
    â€œI have already dismissed him.” Juan’s tone was autocratic. It was obvious he wouldn’t take no for an answer. “If you will be so kind?” He opened the door and ushered her out.
    Georgiana walked across the hall. She felt like a young queen going to her execution. What could Juan possibly want to say that could not be said in public? Surely he must realise that the less time they spent in each other’s company the better it would be for both of them.
    Or perhaps that was where she’d got it wrong.
    All at once Georgiana stopped and spun round, eyes narrowed. Was it possible that for him she’d just been an amusement? That he’d found it titillating to be the first man to touch her intimately, to bring her to orgasm? A raw, angry rage stirred and she marched into the study fuming.
    â€œHow dare you?” she spat as soon as the door was closed. “How dare you?”
    â€œHow dare I what?” he asked haughtily.
    â€œCall me in here as if—as if—”
    â€œAs if nothing had happened between us?” he asked, leaning lazily on the back of the couch, watching as her breasts heaved with restrained anger. God, she was so tempting, so desirable.
    Quenching the immediate desire that surged the instant he set eyes on her, Juan looked her over.
    â€œI hear you are going to be a bridesmaid at my wedding.”
    â€œBy no choice of mine,” she hissed, turning her back on him and staring out of the window.
    â€œGeorgiana, I wanted to talk to you to see if we could come to some reasonable arrangement.”
    She whirled round. “What did you say?”
    â€œA reasonable arrangement. Perhaps we could contrive matters so that—”
    Stepping forward, she raised her right arm in anguished fury.
    Juan caught her wrist as her fingers were about to make contact with his cheek. He stood above her, eyes blazing. “What exactly did you think I was offering?” he bit out, flashing eyes locked with hers.
    â€œI know what you want,” she whispered angrily. “What men like you think you’re entitled to. You want Leticia as your wife and me as your mistress.”
    â€œIs that what you think?”
    â€œYes. I also think you’re despicable.”
    â€œReally? Let’s make sure about that, shall we?”
    In one swift movement he had her locked in his arms. Georgiana struggled for all she was worth. But once Juan’s lips found hers that familiar tingle of heat coursed through her, and her body melted once more, and her anger fizzled out. All she could do was succumb to his will, revel in the hardness of his taut frame against hers.
    Her body refused to obey her mind. She could not resist his talented tongue flicking oh, so cleverly, the touch of his fingers grazing her breast through the thin cotton of her T-shirt and bra, the feel of him against her.
    She let out a gasp when Juan pressed closer, felt his hardness grinding into her pelvis, the rush of molten desire flow between her thighs. Head thrown back, Georgiana felt Juan’s lips kissing her throat, descending ever further until he reached her taut nipple. Before she could stop him he’dcupped her breast, slipped up her T-shirt and bra. Now his lips, his teeth and his taunting tongue were causing havoc.
    â€œDon’t,” she begged.