The barest smile graced his lips.
Her inner walls clenched. Hard.
Wet, she was getting so very wet.
“No, Rebecca, I do not bring my harlots here.”
“Ah, but, you forget, I am a harlot.” Oh, had she just said that aloud?
A quick glance caught him with that deliciously carnal mouth slightly agape.
She had said it aloud! The teasing, sultry note in her voice still rang in her ears. Apparently, even after all this time, she had not forgotten how flirt.
But did she know how to flirt with a man like Stephen?
Maybe not… A flicker of displeasure darkened his expression. He closed his mouth. Compressed his lips a moment.
She glanced down whilst tucking the stray lock behind her ear. A nervous laugh escaped her. Heavens, she hadn’t behaved like this—like some free-spirited fancy piece—in years.
He had known her long, long ago. When she had been the next thing to a girl, stuck in a passionless marriage. In the years since then, she’d been awakened to her full power and pleasure as a woman. Tonight, he was making her remember what that felt like.
But did he really prefer the naïve, un-awakened girl?
“You’re not a harlot.” His tone was resolute.
“No?” This time her voice echoed sadly and she released the strand of hair and it sprang in front of her face, tickling her cheek. She barely noticed in the wake of the sudden crashing of her spirits.
Apparently, he did prefer the girl.
What man didn’t want to be the one who awakened a woman? To be able to take a her as a blank slate and train her to please his wonts and his alone?
What were Stephen’s carnal wonts?
Through her lashes, she let her gaze move slowly over his elegant features. Dear God, she would love to be his harlot. To have him press her down and have his wicked way with her and force her to do all sorts of naughty, utterly wicked things to that beautiful, unbelievably masculine body of his. If only for tonight.
If only for some distraction from the dangers that threatened her.
But what woman could ask a new lover: ‘Call me a harlot, pull my hair, deny me, make me grovel, make me beg, punish me’? How could a woman offer a man such power over herself and yet expect that he would have the sensitivity and artfulness as a lover not to take it too far?
“You’re just a good little girl.”
At the sensuality vibrating underneath his softly spoken words, a flush spread over her face even as pleasant warmth filled her. She lowered her eyes. “I am forty-four years old, Stephen.” She had to pause and swallow. “H-hardly a girl.”
He studied her so closely.
The feeling of that lump in her throat increased, though from trepidation or pleasured excitement, she didn’t fully know. She felt her face heat.
“You wear each and every one of those years exceptionally well. And despite those years, you’re still a good little girl at heart, aren’t you?”
A grin stretched her face wide. She nodded.
“Ah, I knew it.” Good humour blended with the rich sensual note in his deep voice.
Hope swelled within her chest, a feeling like she might burst. She took a long, convulsive breath, trying to slow her rapidly racing heart.
“I could be a good girl for you.” She twirled a wayward tress around her finger again and cast her gaze down to his lap, making her attention pointed. “So very, very good.”
“That good, eh?”
She jerked her gaze back to his face, suddenly a bit alarmed at her boldness.
He was smiling, ever so slightly. His eyes blazed with lust.
Oh, it was heady. Far too heady. She was being reckless, too damned reckless. But it was too late to stop now.
Yet, her mouth went dry at the sense of things becoming suddenly more than she might be able to handle. Especially once she was sober. She released the strand of hair and tossed her head back. “I’ll be your good little girl.” She gave him a steady look. “But just for tonight.”
Heart in her throat, she waited for Stephen’s response. What would he say? Jon had always controlled the terms when she had been with other men.
Stephen’s smile broadened. “Ah, you want to set limits. To be in control of our situation. But I wonder, should we set limits yet?”
“I am just trying to stay safe.”
“He hurt you that much?”
She inhaled sharply. Stephen’s words had stuck her to the bone. She couldn’t look at him now. She tucked that stray piece of hair firmly behind her ear and drew her shoulders closer to her ears, trying to make herself smaller. Wanting to disappear.
“He did hurt you that much,” Stephen said, firmly.
“He didn’t intend to.” It shocked her, how small her voice sounded. She had never spoken of this to anyone before.
“He didn’t deserve you.”
“Oh Stephen, it is not like that. You don’t—”
“Forget him.” His tone was firm, hard.
She pressed her lips together. Hadn’t she done just that, for years now? Yet, if that were true, why was she still allowing the memory of Jon, and all the heartache loving him had caused, to dictate her decisions?
Well, maybe it was time she stopped. Ending her long celibacy would certainly be a good beginning.
She glanced up at Stephen. “I can only promise one night. So, what’s your pleasure?” She tossed her head again, and gave him a teasing look. “Would like for me to be your harlot?”
“No.” His expression went cold. Hard.
“No?” She heard the hurt, the surprise in her voice.
“No, not just tonight. A fortnight.”
“A fortnight? Why?”
“Because it will take me that long to take care of Maria Seymour and to secure your safety.”
“You’re going to take care of Maria Seymour and secure my safety?”
“Aye, I shall.”
“By using your—” She couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice. “Your secret power?”
His features drew taut, an expression of displeasure. “Yes.”
A little curl of alarm wound through her belly and put a sudden chill over her arousal. She began to sense herself in some kind of real danger here.
All this nonsense about his power over the powerful—could there possibly be anything to it?
I don’t know him.
How many times would she have to remind herself of this? Why was she allowing herself to be seduced into forgetting it? Unsure of her feelings or knowing exactly what she ought to do next, she schooled her expression to be careless and shrugged. “It sounds like you’ll be very busy, too busy for entertaining a new lover.”
His jaw hardened and the intensity of his stare made her feel pinned to the spot. “Rebecca, no more playing at games.”
His steely tone put a chill down her spine. She felt her mouth drop open. “You seemed to enjoy playing.”
“This is serious.”
“What is it you want from me?”
“I want your promise that you’ll obey me. That you’ll follow my directions expressly.”
Another chill raced down her spine, further dampening her arousal. She became all too aware of herself, out at night, in the company of a strange man. Vulnerable.
Had she been feeling safer for being with him? Now she just wanted to be alone. To be able to sort her thoughts out without his beguiling presence.
With the chilling of her arousal, some of her good sense returned. No matter her temptation, she needed to emotionally distance herself from this man and then extricate herself from this situation. She’d simply been celibate too long and drunk far too much this night. Alone once more, she would be able to think more clearly. Her uncle lived in Norfolk, maybe she should pay him a visit and then she’d decide what to do.
But how would Stephen react? She couldn’t be sure and she wasn’t yet ready to test him.
Placate him for now. Don’t make any su
dden movements. Not yet. But I am getting myself out of here. Alone.
She gave a soft laugh, putting all the coquetry and sensuality she had once possessed into it and trying hard to cover her rapidly escalating panic. “Well, what do you intend to do with me during that time?”
“I am going to take you to Cornwall and leave you with my brother and his wife.”
“You have a brother?” Again, she couldn’t keep the shock…and yes, the hurt, out of her voice.
“Yes, he’s the younger, better son.” The briefest curving of his lips softened the words.
She felt herself warming to him again and she stiffened her spine and lifted her chin, steeling herself against it. “You never told me about any brother.”
“Didn’t I?”
She shook her head, slowly. At his casual tone, a renewed burst of hurt had swelled in her chest. How dare he act as though this omission were nothing! From the age of sixteen onwards, she had always had a special rapport with men of all ages. They all told her how easy she was to talk to. They had always shared their secrets with her.
Yet, she now remembered how little Stephen had spoken of himself in those bygone days. And how frustrated and hurt she had been at her own failure to draw him out.
“Of all the males she’d known, he had been uniquely taciturn. Despite their friendship, he had always kept part of himself closed off from her.”
And, she thought, he likely always would.
Her sense of hurt swelled tightly and painfully up into her throat. She’d been right to distrust him. For all their time spent together years ago, she knew nothing of Stephen Drake. Nothing real. And he wanted to take her to Cornwall? And leave her with his brother—a brother he’d never mentioned before until this moment?
Madness. Utter madness!
And wasn’t she just as mad? Letting him bring her here to this den of perdition for a meal. Sitting here, thinking lustful thoughts about him, letting him seduce her into trusting him.
She took several ragged breaths and struggled for clarity. Too much wine, too damned much wine. Too much self-indulgent nostalgia as well. She was acting like a foolish girl, blinded by his sheer masculine beauty and the gossamer threads of a barely-remembered attraction. Really, she was too old and should be too wise for this. Shame burned into her.
“What?”
His voice cut into her thoughts. “What?” she asked.
His expression was dark again. Stern. “I asked first. What is that look?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“That cold, closed look that’s suddenly come over you.”
She pushed herself into a smile and tried to squeeze every ounce of charm she possessed into it. “Thank you for the meal. I do believe you were exactly correct. I am feeling ever so much better and I can think clearly now.”
“Is that a fact?” There was an ominous undertone there that she definitely did not imagine.
With her stomach all quivery, she swallowed back a whimper and kept on smiling in the face of his sternness. “Oh, yes. I think I shall be going.”
He drew his dark brows together. “Going?”
The steel beneath his softly spoken word set her heart fluttering harder than ever. “Yes, I shall be going on my way.”
He gave her a long, steady stare. “To Devon.”
“No, not Devon.” Was her voice a tad high-pitched? “I have an uncle in—” She hastily bit off her words. Goodness, would she tell him and have him follow her? She took a deep breath and continued, “I shall go to my uncle.”
“I can take you to your uncle.”
“I can manage from here.”
“I see.”
“I am glad that you understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
Something in his tone made her blood freeze. She couldn’t seem to move.
“Just as I understood, all those years ago, when you left with Howland.”
Her blood chilled at his tone. He’d always been so kind, so polite with her. He’d never used a tone like that before. She felt hunted, accused. “Goodness, Stephen. He was my husband. Of course I had to go with him.”
“You encouraged him to petition for a transfer.”
Her heart began to pound. How could he possibly know that? “You don’t understand—”
“No, again, I understand perfectly.”
Why are you explaining yourself? You don’t owe him any explanations.
Yet, as she drew in a steadying breath, he kept staring at her with that accusing, angry look.
Hurt?
Yes, maybe there was hurt beneath his prickly exterior. She remembered the pain of their parting. The suddenness and the vividness of the memory swept through her body, weakening her and her shoulders sagged. Her throat burned and she had to swallow.
“Donald was being bullied mercilessly by his commanding officer. It was making him ill. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep.”
His jaw tightened and his lip curled upwards on one side. “Donald Howland would have been bullied no matter where he went in the Dragoons. It was his character. Other men sensed his weakness. You knew that.”
Pity for her late husband panged her heart. “That’s not true. He found acceptance.”
“From Captain Lloyd?”
“Yes.”
“Good old Captain Lloyd. Yes, Lord Ruel seems the soul of understanding and compassion.”
“He was in those days. You didn’t know him. You don’t know him.”
“I know enough.” Stephen’s expression was harder, colder. It gave her chills.
“Please, try to understand, he was my husband. I had to put his needs first—”
“I do understand. Believe me.”
“He found acceptance. Acceptance. You don’t know what that meant.”
“Within three months of your arrival in his regiment, Captain Lloyd blackened both Donald Howland’s eyes and cracked a few of his ribs .”
“Oh…” The sound escaped Rebecca, echoing with misery. Why must he dredge all this up? What the devil did any of it matter now?
Stephen raised his brows. “That’s some acceptance.”
“How could you know—”
“I have my sources.”
“You don’t know the circumstances.”
“I know all.”
“You think you know—”
“I know.”
A fiery ball swelled within her throat and her eyes burnt unbearably. She turned away.
You don’t understand…he’s broken. He can’t help himself.
He’s an animal.
Captain Lloyd, please don’t call my husband an animal. You don’t understand what—
All right, he’s a dumb, hurt animal, but an animal all the same. They only understand the law of fang and claw.
“Rebecca.”
Stephen’s voice startled her back into the moment.
“Yes?” she said, blankly.
“Why did you never tell me about Howland? Why didn’t you share that misery and fear with me?”
“You were just a boy.”
“And you think I wouldn’t have protected you? You think I wouldn’t have at least tried?”
“It would have been wrong of me to have burdened you like that.”
“I see.” His tone was sharp as a scythe.
“Utterly wrong. Wicked.”
“Yet, Captain Lloyd was only two years older and you threw all your burdens on his shoulders.”
“It is not quite like that.” Her throat grew tight under his accusing glare. “There’s a great deal of difference between eighteen and twenty.”
“And what is that difference?”
“The difference between a boy and a man.”
“Well, I am not a boy now.”
The edge in his voice made her catch her breath. But wait a moment. She had only done what was prudent. She’d done the right thing. Why was she allowing him to make her feel as though she were on trial? She exhal
ed, long and slow, trying to lose the feeling of tension. The feeling of being indicted. She met his gaze levelly. “No, you’re no longer a boy.”
“Why won’t you let me protect you?”
Yes, why was she having such a hard time trusting him? Her tired mind was slow to return its answers and her stomach began to knot under his continued accusatory stare. She drew her brows together, trying to put things just the right way, so that he would understand. “There are too many unanswered questions.”
“Such as what?”
His incredulous tone lit her ire and that jolt of emotion gave her the energy to better articulate herself. “You were just an equerry—and since when does the son of a printer’s assistant, without a university education and no family connections, become an equerry to a peer of the realm?”
Emotion flared in his eyes, making the irises brilliant as flares in a diamond in direct sunlight.
It sent a pang into the centre of her chest and made her feel abashed. The sharpness of her tone and sting of her words still lingered in her ears. She didn’t like to be unkind but he had pushed her to it. “Since when is such a man made a baron?”
She had said this last softly, carefully. She didn’t want to offend or hurt him further but it had to be said.
His expression hardened. “When he’s done a good job and his unique skills are highly valued.”
In the stiffest of tones, he’d said that as though it made perfect sense, as though he shouldn’t have to explain. But she knew the world. There was no way a boy of his beginnings could end up a baron. She crossed her arms over her chest. “And you have a brother now, when you never did before?”
“Rebecca, those things have nothing to do with you and me. Nothing to do with tonight.”
“It has everything to do with you and me and tonight.” Feeling more ill at ease every moment, she jolted to her feet. “I do not know you.”
He looked up, his eyes blazing again with such blue intensity that her mouth went dry and her heart seemed to pause.
He stood.
Every self-protective instinct she possessed suddenly rushed to the fore, her heart leapt into life, thudding wildly. She jumped back several feet then turned and ran.
Perilous Risk Page 9
