The Virgin's Choice. Jennie Lucas

stood before him, the wedding dress crumpled like a tablecloth at her feet. All she wore was the white silk lingerie intended for her wedding night, a tiny white bra, lacy thong panties and white stockings attached with a garter belt.

      He could not look away from the vision of her half-naked body, of her creamy skin and perfect curves. He gaped at the perfect hourglass shape of her petite body, at her full breasts and hips, at her tiny waist, and nearly gasped aloud.

      Insult or not, he’d been a fool to take the wedding gown off of her. The image of her beauty was dangerous. To him.

      He should have known she’d be wearing tarty white lingerie for her wedding night to the baron. Pretending to be a virgin—just pretending, because he’d obviously been bedding her for some time. No man would resist Rose’s charms, her soft blond beauty, her lush body. They must have been lovers from the moment the man had plucked her from that restaurant in San Francisco.

      Växborg was guilty. But was Rose? Had she known about Laetitia?

      It doesn’t matter, he told himself harshly. Whether or not Rose had known about his marriage, she’d been eager enough to marry the baron for the sake of his money, his title and his snakelike charm. Everyone had their price. Xerxes learned that long ago. Feelings were a commodity like everything else.

      And yet Xerxes’s eyes traced unwillingly over her beautiful, near-naked body.

      Rose’s cheeks were red as she looked down, breathing rapidly. She started to cover herself with her slender arms. Then she stopped, gripping her hands into fists at her sides. Slowly, she lifted her chin, her eyes glittering at him in fury.

      What a woman, he thought in amazement. Even now, completely in his power, when any other woman might have been prostrate with fear, Rose defied him.

      “You owe Lars a wedding dress now,” she said in a low voice. “As well as a diamond tiara. And a bride.”

      With dignity, she bent to pick up the dress, then used the tattered remnants to cover herself.

      Why did he want her like this? How could this mere girl, this waitress, have such an overwhelming effect on his body?

      Setting his jaw, he reached for her. She looked up with an intake of breath, but instead of ripping the dress from her hands, he helped her cover herself with it. He slowly moved his fingers up her naked arms. Her skin was smooth and warm.

      She looked up at him in bewilderment. Her lips parted. Her full, delectable pink lips, so ripe for a man’s plunder.

      Suddenly, Xerxes knew what he had to do. He knew just the way to learn the truth about her innocence or guilt.

       He would kiss her.

      If she were truly the heartless gold digger he’d first believed, she would not only allow his kiss, she would try to lure him into a full-scale seduction. To evade punishment, she would change allegiance, wanting to win him over to her side.

      If not…

      Well. Xerxes would put her to the test.

      The fact that he could think of nothing but kissing her had nothing to do with this. It was a scientific experiment. Satiating his desire would be just a fortunate bonus.

      After he’d replaced the torn dress over her shoulders, Rose gripped the gaping front bodice together with her hand and glared as him with hostility.

      “Don’t think that you can bully me into being afraid of you, because I will never—”

      Her words ended in a gasp as Xerxes seized her in his arms. Lowering his mouth to hers, he brutally kissed her.