Margaret rose and walked to the door. She paused beside Marcus as though to say something but, with a curtsy, left with Winnie closing the door behind them.
When they'd gone, he closed the door and faced Elise. "I sent for you."
"Yes."
"Yet you forced me to bring Margaret to you."
"Yes."
"And when we arrived, you were less than gracious."
"Milord," Elise said in exaggerated tones, "you can force me to sit quietly while you issue commands, but you cannot force me to agree."
Marcus blinked, then started toward her. She tensed as he threw himself into the chair beside hers, folded his arms across his chest, and regarded her.
"Is it so difficult to do as I ask?"
"In this case, yes," she replied.
"This request, then, went against your… moral fiber?"
"That is one way of putting it."
A gleam appeared in his eye and a prickle of dread crept up her neck.
"This means," he went on, "you will honor future requests so long as they do not go against your moral convictions?"
"Perhaps," she answered tentatively.
"Mayhap a distraction would help." His gaze held hers. "Would you like to know what sort of distraction I have in mind?"
"No," she replied, and mentally cursed the all-too-quick response.
"Too late."
Marcus stood. In one quick motion, he grasped her waist and lifted her onto the table. With a single finger, he tilted her chin upward so she was forced to look directly into his eyes.
"I have found my threats are meaningless. Probably because you know I am incapable of carrying them out against your beautiful body."
He shifted his gaze to her neck and moved his finger lightly on the hollow of her throat. Elise tried to quell the quiver in her stomach, but the almost imperceptible, yet arrogant twitch at the corner of his mouth said she hadn't been completely successful.
"I am, however, more than willing to do this every time you disobey me." He cupped the nape of her neck as he bent and covered her mouth with his.
Elise twisted in an effort to distance their bodies. Marcus gave a satisfied grunt and shoved her thighs apart with his knee. He pulled her close, pressing her stomach against his erection. A gust of desire startled Elise. He slipped a hand beneath her skirt.
She wriggled in an attempt to break the kiss. Her belly rubbed across his hard shaft. She jerked back, but he hugged her closer as he traced circles up her inner thigh. She seized his shoulders and tried to shake his immoveable body. His tongue slipped past her lips and thrust gently against her tongue.
In her mind's eye, she saw him ease her back onto the table and pull up her dress until she lay bared before him. How easily he could spread her legs, then lift his kilt and—Elise jolted. His hand had moved farther up her thigh. She swayed with dizziness. Body and mind seemed connected only through the roiling in her stomach. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin on the uppermost part of her thigh.
Elise tore her mouth from his and buried her head in his shoulder. "Enough," she said between heavy breaths.
His hand stilled. "Have I selected an effective distraction?"
"You know perfectly well what you've done."
Marcus removed his hand from her thigh, then grasped her shoulders, holding her at arm's length. "Beware," he said, and something suspiciously close to a smile played on his mouth, "for, if I find you disobeying me too often, I will conclude you crave the distraction."
Realization washed over her. "You odious man!" She pushed him from her.
Clutching his breast, Marcus took a step back. "You wound me, my sweet."
"I'm in no mood for games." She stood and began smoothing her rumpled skirts, slowing the action upon seeing her hands tremble.
"I assure you," he said with a seriousness that yanked her attention onto him, "this is no game." The glitter in his eyes reflected the edge in his voice.
Elise stared. "You can't be serious. You wouldn't…"
"Do what I have just done? That and more. Passion is a powerful distraction."
His gaze held hers and she knew he was remembering his final words before leaving her room last night, "I will wed you."
He abruptly turned and strode to the door.
Elise tried tearing her gaze from his muscled calves but found herself unable to blink until the door closed softly behind him. How was she going to get out of this mess? If she told him she didn't love him, he wouldn't believe her.
Elise sat on the bed beside Chloe, gripping the girl's hands and keeping them pressed against the mattress as Winnie placed a hand on Chloe's stomach. Her deft fingers inched along the skin until she located the unborn child's buttocks. Winnie pressed hard, trying once again to coax the buttocks away from the birthing canal. Elise rubbed her forehead against her shoulder in an effort to brush back sweat-matted hair from her eyes.