The Beloved Scoundrel

by Iris Johansen

  “No, that’s not why I let you—” She broke off and said wearily, “I cannot help myself. It’s like a sickness.”

  His anger flared again. “By God, if it’s a sickness, it’s one you revel in.”

  She couldn’t deny it. In the last four days she had existed in a haze of sensual hunger. They had come together more times in more diverse ways than she could count, and it was never enough. He had only to look at her in a certain way or touch her casually in passing and her body readied.

  And he was always touching her. She had gradually come to realize he used touch not only to arouse but to establish possession. He would lift her hand to his lips in the middle of a conversation and then go on talking as if the caress had never happened; he would knead the nape of her neck as she sat at his feet before the fire; he would brush her hair for her before they retired, talking idly, his fingers playing with the strands.

  Each touch, each word, each mundane act, was drawing her closer into the web of intimacy.

  He smiled, and his face lit with charm. “Pleasure isn’t a sickness, pleasure is joy,” he coaxed. “You love everything I do to you. Say it, Marianna.”

  She didn’t have to make the admission. He knew very well she was completely under his spell. At first she had floated along, accepting everything, but gradually she had become aware Jordan was not equally swept away. Not that he did not want her; no question existed on that score. But there were times when she caught a glance, a watchful expression, that gave her pause. It was as if he were trying to shape her to his needs, an idea that brought both anger and fear. She knew how strong was Jordan’s will, but she would not be the mindless voluptuary he was trying to mold. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. It is what I am.” She hesitated and then said in a rush, “I want you to let me go. I’ve decided this cannot go on.”

  His smile vanished. “It will go on.”

  She turned to look at him. “How long? Until you grow tired of me?”

  “I cannot imagine that circumstance.”

  “I could name at least six ladies who are very familiar with that circumstance since I came to Cambaron.”

  He frowned. “It’s not the same.”

  “It is the same. Why do you need me? You are not a constant man. Next month you will bring another woman here and—”

  “Will you be silent! For God’s sake I told you it was not the same.”

  “No.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I know it’s … different somehow. But it’s a difference I cannot bear.”

  “You’re not being rational. You cannot bear pleasure?”

  “Not if it means … I feel smothered.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “You want something from me,” she went on haltingly, feeling her way. “Perhaps you have already grown bored with me. Perhaps you’re merely pretending so that I will come to trust you enough to give you the Jedalar. Is that it?”

  “You know I’m not bored with you. Will you stop ranting at me?”

  “How do I know? You’re a very clever man. Maybe Lady Carlisle never knew when you grew bored with her.” She drew a deep breath and then said evenly, “And I’m not ranting. I’m saying what I’m thinking. Though you’ve seen that I’ve had little capability for reasoning of late.”

  The anger suddenly left his expression, and he leaned his head against the high back of the chair. “Quite true. I didn’t want you to think, only to feel. Thinking would have gotten in the way.” He added quietly, “Do you wish to wring a confession from me? Very well. I’m weary of deceiving you anyway. It sticks in my throat. The Jedalar has nothing to do with this.” He paused. “I intend for you to belong to me.”

  She gazed at him incredulously. “Belong? I’m not a slave to belong to anyone.”

  “I wish you were. I’d like nothing better than to build you a lovely cage where I held the only key. The ordinary ways a man owns a woman are not to my liking. The bonds aren’t strong enough.”

  She shook her head dazedly. “This is outrageous. I don’t understand you.”

  “Neither do I. I learned a long time ago that it’s foolish to try to hold on to anyone. Everyone walks away eventually. It’s better to walk away first and not look back. That’s what I intended to do with you, but something happened. You touched me … and held me.” He smiled crookedly. “I assure you, I’ve been fighting it with all my strength.”

  “Then let me go.”

  “I can’t.” His tone was abruptly laden with frustration. “I can’t, dammit.” He drew a deep breath and then said mockingly, “So I decided I had to find a way to make you stay. It would be pleasant if you would succumb to bribery like an ordinary female, but I know you wouldn’t. However, I do have another weapon. You have a remarkably sensual nature. I suppose you’ve noticed I’ve endeavored to entice you to yield to me every time and every way I wanted you. Such submission becomes a habit that forges the strongest of chains.”

  Chains. She shivered as she realized that she had nearly let it happen. How close she had been to letting him rule her life as he had her body. Would trust have come with the dependence he had begun to instill in her? At some point would she have given him the Jedalar just to please him? The thought was frightening. “Why are you telling me this?” she whispered.

  He shrugged. “My feelings for you have always been confused. Perhaps I want you to fight me before I destroy all I value in you. I found you cannot enslave without being enslaved.” His smile was sardonic, but his voice had thickened. “I have the sickness too. I cannot look at you without wanting you.”

  Desire, raw, powerful, and uncompromised by any other emotion. Well, what had she expected? What else was there between them? Yet the knowledge brought unbearable pain that terrified her with its depth. She had to bring an end to this emotional chaos before it became intolerable. She must find a way not only to leave Jordan but Cambaron. “I want to see Alex.”

  He shrugged. “Then you shall see him. We don’t have to go to him. I’ll send word for Gregor to bring him to Dalwynd tomorrow.”

  “He’s that close?”

  “Close enough.” He paused. “Put your cutting knife down.”

  She shook her head. “I told you I didn’t want to go for a walk.”

  “Neither do I. Come here.”

  She turned to look at him.

  He was no longer lounging in the chair but sitting upright. He smiled at her. “If you’re determined to leave me, it can do no harm to let me have a few last hours of pleasure. There are still many things for you to learn.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve just told me you wish to put me in a cage, and you expect me to—”

  “Why not?” His long, graceful fingers moved slowly, tracing the grooves of the carving on the arms of the chair.

  The chair.

  “Come here, Marianna. Remember? I can’t come to you.”

  He was talking about the dream, his dream, the dream that woke her in the middle of the night.

  His green eyes were narrowed on her face, and his lips were heavy, sensual. Color darkened the bronze of his cheeks, and there was the faintest flare to his nostrils. “Do you want to run back to Dorothy and be like her for the rest of your life? Don’t you want to taste and feel everything there is to feel?” His hands tightened on the arms of the chair. “I want this, Marianna.”

  She could feel his need. The air between them vibrated with it. She had become accustomed to satisfying his every desire because in doing so she satisfied her own. Her body was readying now, she realized helplessly. It made no difference that she knew what he was doing. Her heart was pounding, and she felt the familiar aching emptiness between her thighs.

  “You want it,” he said. “Another memory, another pleasure. There have been so many, what’s one more time?”

  He was everything that was beautiful and elegant and seductive. Satan could not have been more alluring or more persuasive when he had tempted Eve.

  “Are you afraid? Why? Do you d
oubt your resolve?”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  “Then come to me.”

  She slowly started toward him.

  He held her gaze. “That’s right,” he whispered. “Let me have you. Let me bring you pleasure.”

  She stopped before him. She could see the pulse leaping in his temple. She wanted desperately to reach out and touch him.

  What was one more time?

  It did not have to be a surrender. She would be leaving him soon; she must find Alex and escape from this trap that had proved so alluring. Yet surely now that she knew what she was fighting, she could be strong enough to take what she wanted and walk away from him.

  “You cannot have me,” she said clearly. “I will not belong to you.”

  He went still, his eyes holding hers.

  “But I will take you now. Not because you want it, but because I do.”

  He smiled. “A challenge? You don’t have the experience to best me in this arena. But, by all means, do try.”

  The dream required she touch his lips with her fingers.

  She did not. She reached out, untied the ribbon that bound his queue, and pulled it from his hair. “And if I don’t like every aspect of your dream, it will be as different as I wish it to be.”

  Watchful, he said nothing.

  Her fingers combed through his hair, enjoying the thick silkiness. She was trembling, and she knew he could see it. She didn’t know how long she could maintain this pose of dominance when her knees were shaking so badly she could barely stand. She knew he wanted her. Why did he just sit there? “Well?” she said impatiently.

  His brows lifted. “You expect something of me? But you said I couldn’t have you. I wouldn’t think of offending you by disobedience.” His head turned, and he pressed his lips to the soft skin on the inside of her forearm. “Until you give me permission.”

  Heat tingled up her arm. She swallowed. “Jordan, I—”

  “That’s permission enough.” He jerked her down on his lap. His lips roamed over her throat while fingers tore at the buttons on the back of her gown. His head lifted, to reveal eyes blazing with feeling. “Stand up.” He didn’t wait for her to comply but stood her on her feet. “Is this different enough for you?” He tore the gown and shift off her, and they fell in strips at her feet. He pulled her back on his lap, facing him, adjusting her legs over the wide wooden arms of the chair.

  He reached beneath her, and two fingers plunged deep while he freed himself with the other hand. He stroked, rotated, stroked again.

  She gasped, her fingers closing on his hair.

  He bent her back, his mouth closing on her right breast, and he sucked long and hard, tonguing her nipple in rhythm to the probing of his fingers.

  She bit her lower lip to keep from screaming. The sensation was indescribable. Her thighs stretched wide over the hard, smooth wood and Jordan’s fingers.…

  He lifted his head. “Do you belong to me?”

  She was barely aware of the content of his words. She looked up at him dazedly.

  His fingers left her, and he made an adjustment. He plunged deep, filling her to the quick. “Do you belong to me?” he repeated.

  Her hands plucked at his shoulders. “Jordan, I can’t—”

  “Do you want me to move?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  His hands pressed down on her hips, sealing her to him. He was still, his chest moving in and out with his labored breathing. “Then tell me you belong to me.”

  Chains. A sudden burst of anger tore through her. “I will not.”

  He did not move, and she felt the waves of lust and frustration emitting from him as a tangible force. “Damn and blast you.” He started to move, his hips rotating upward in a wild, thrusting, driving motion.

  She could only hold on to his shoulders and ride the storm until the final explosion. It seemed to go on a long time. She could hear herself making little animallike cries as she took him and took him.…

  He buried his head on her breast, still flexing within her. She couldn’t move as shudder after shudder of release rippled through her.

  “Tell me you belong to me,” he said in a low voice.

  “Let me go.”

  “You’ll tell me someday.”

  She felt a frantic need to escape. “I’m not comfortable. Let me stand up.”

  He lifted his head, and a reckless smile lit his face. “But we’re not finished.”

  She stared at him in bewilderment. He could not want her after that wild climax of feeling.

  She was being moved, shifted to his lap, with her legs over one arm of the chair. He was still within her, and he bent her back over his arm, his lips caressing her nipple. “Isn’t this pleasant?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Waiting. I’d be a fool not to take advantage of such a vulnerable position when you’re being so cruel as to want to leave me. Who knows when I’ll be granted such a privilege again?”

  She felt him hardening within her.

  “Close your legs and let me feel your tightness.” His lips brushed her ear. “I told you only a little of my dream. There’s still much more to come.”

  This had been a mistake, she thought in despair. She had believed she was strong enough to take what she wanted without yielding more of herself. She should have known better. He had seized control, and at this moment she felt more owned than ever in her life.

  “Hold me,” he whispered as his fingers searched and found.

  As the pleasure started, she instinctively tightened around him, giving him what he demanded.

  A terrible mistake.

  Is it safe to slide on?” Alex ran to the edge of the lake and looked out over the glittering ice. He stuck out a booted toe and probed at the icy surface. “This is a fine place. May I stay with you, Marianna?”

  “No, the ice is still too thin, she said, answering the former question. She pulled him back from the danger. “And I would love for you to stay with me. Why don’t you ask Jordan?”

  “Jordan, may I?”

  Jordan broke off his conversation with Gregor and shook his head. “We need you to help Gregor protect Cambaron while we’re gone.”

  Alex frowned. “Then I want Marianna to come back with me.”

  “But Marianna needs to rest. That’s why she’s here,” Jordan said gently. “She became very tired working on that lovely flower dome. You don’t want her to become ill, do you?”

  Alex said quickly, “Marianna’s never ill.” His worried gaze went to Marianna’s face. “But she does look … pale.”

  “I feel perfectly fine,” Marianna said firmly, with a barbed glance at Jordan. She would not have him making Alex anxious. “And I’ll be back with you at Cambaron before you know it.”

  Alex asked Jordan, “Why can’t she rest at Cambaron?”

  Jordan smiled. “Does she ever rest at Cambaron? We’d have to seal off the tower room.”

  Alex chuckled. “And the stable storeroom and the ballroom and—”

  “What if I promised not to work?” Marianna said to Jordan, challenging him. “Then there would be no reason for me not to go back to Cambaron today.”

  Jordan gave Alex another glance. “Could we trust her?”

  Alex shook his head.

  Jordan smiled blandly at Marianna. “How well he knows you. I suppose we’ll just have to keep you here until you’re more rested.” He turned back to Alex. “But there’s no reason for you not to visit more often. Gregor can bring you back in a few days. We’ll get you a pair of skates, and if the ice is hard enough, we’ll have a few lessons.”

  “I can learn to skate?” Alex’s eyes lit with excitement. “Marianna too?”

  “I’m sure she would be a fine skater,” he said silkily. “But we’d have to watch her carefully. She’s always had an affinity for thin ice.”

  She wanted to reach out and strike him. She whirled away. “Let’s go for a walk along the shore, Alex.” She added pointedly to Jor
dan, “You don’t have to come with us. I’m sure you and Gregor have many things to discuss.”

  To her surprise he nodded. “We’ll watch you from here. Don’t slip and fall. The snow is hard-packed, but there’s thin ice beneath it.” He smiled at Alex. “There will be a cup of hot chocolate waiting for you after your walk, and then maybe we’ll have a game of chess. Would you like that?”

  “Oh yes.”

  Marianna took Alex’s hand and set out. The snow crunched beneath her boots, and the sun shimmered brilliantly on the white surface. Gradually the vigorous activity caused her anger and frustration to ebb. She would not let her anger with Jordan spoil this time with Alex. “I’ve missed you. Have you been well?”

  He nodded. “Gregor took me on a splendid trip on the Seastorm. I saw Captain Braithwaite again. He’s got lots more gray in his hair now.”

  “But you’re back at Cambaron now?”

  He nodded again. “But I haven’t been able to ride much. The ground has been too icy.” He was silent a moment and then whispered, “You’re not really ill, are you? Not like Mama? You’re not going to—”

  “No!” She stopped and fell to her knees before him. She gathered him in her arms and rocked him tenderly. He had not mentioned Mama for a long time and never mentioned the night she died. She had not realized how vivid the memory still was to him. “I’m just a little tired. I’ll be back with you just as soon as I can.”

  “Not if it’s going to make you more ill,” he said quickly.

  Blast Jordan. “It won’t make me ill.” She framed his cheeks in her gloved hands. “And perhaps when I come back, we’ll go on our own journey, just the two of us. Would you like that?”

  His eyes lit eagerly. “Where would we go?”

  “We’ll have to decide that later.” She kissed him on the forehead. “But for now let it be a secret between us.”

  “Could I take my horse?”

  She stood up. “We’ll discuss that when the time comes.” She took his hand and continued to walk. “How is Dorothy?”

  “Fine,” he said absently. He looked out to the lake. “Perhaps we could wait until after I come here again to go on our trip.” He added hastily, “Not that I’m sure we wouldn’t have a splendid time, but we wouldn’t want to hurt Jordan’s feelings when he’s planned everything so nicely.”