She licked lips dry with nervousness and twisted her hands in her skirts. “Because I want to.”
“Not good enough.”
She stepped closer, her heart racing. He’d come direct from the stables. Odors of horse, leather, and the outdoors melded into a surprisingly pleasant fragrance. “Seems good enough to me.”
He retreated, keeping the distance between them. “You’re suddenly very certain of yourself.”
She dared another step. He tensed as though scenting danger. Wise man. She meant to be dangerous. She meant to crush his fragile scruples and take him as her lover. Her skin tightened with wanton anticipation.
A huff of amusement escaped. “For heaven’s sake, Merrick! You’re jumpy as a cat in a thunderstorm.”
He didn’t smile. “This is no laughing matter.”
“Actually it is. Ever since I arrived, I couldn’t turn around without you breathing down my neck. Now you act like a vicar with a wayward parishioner.”
He turned away and she strained to hear him. “When you ran away last night—”
She grabbed his arm. She braced for rejection, but he remained still, his muscles taut under her touch. “I was a stupid little girl, frightened by what I didn’t understand. Jonas, you told me this week offered me a freedom I’d never know again. It’s taken me too long to see how right you are. Until now, my life has been barren. Don’t send me back into the cold, not without the memory of joy to keep me warm.”
Where on earth did she find the courage to say these things? She’d never spoken like this to anyone. She’d been so busy bolstering her defenses, she hadn’t let Jonas glimpse her soul. Right now, she’d serve up her soul on a platter if he asked. He wasn’t asking and she served up her soul anyway. Her voice thickened with tears. “Don’t make me beg, Jonas.”
He sighed heavily and when he turned toward her this time, she realized something had changed. But still she didn’t see the eagerness she wanted. His face appeared, if anything, sterner. “What if I get you pregnant?”
Her hand tightened on his arm and she resisted the impulse to stamp her foot. What in heaven’s name was wrong with the man? “You weren’t worried about that last night.”
For the first time, she caught a glimmer of rueful humor in his expression. “Last night hunger for your exquisite body turned thought to mush. Right now, I’m still moderately sane. Tell me, beautiful Sidonie, what if you have a child?”
Devil take him. He was a tougher opponent than she’d expected. Tough and smart. If she hoped to prevail, she’d need to be tougher and smarter.
“Roberta and I discussed that,” she said through stiff lips. The Forsythes weren’t a prolific family. Sidonie’s mother produced two daughters from her long marriage. In eight years, Roberta bore only two sons. Odds were if Sidonie submitted to Jonas, she wouldn’t conceive.
Which she knew pinned her hopes to a mere prayer.
He looked unimpressed. “And concocted some harebrained scheme, worthy of your sister.”
“You’re cruel,” she said hoarsely, dropping her hand from his arm and stepping away.
He shook his head. “No, I’m trying to make you see reality, not some addled romantic notion. You were wiser yesterday, amore mio, when you ran away.”
An angry sound emerged from her throat. “If you’re so keen to keep me away, why call me such names?”
His mouth relaxed slightly. “You’re right. It’s not fair. My conversion to man of principle isn’t complete, bella. I’m doing my best.”
Her stare was unflinching. “I liked you better as an unrepentant rake.”
“No, you didn’t. Tell me what you and Roberta cooked up.”
“I’ll live on my legacy somewhere obscure and pose as a widow. It’s the obvious solution if I… if you get me with child.” Her eyes sharpened on his unconcealed disapproval, although she admitted the plan sounded flimsy. “Roberta says there are ways to prevent conception.”
“Does she indeed?”
Her cheeks heated. “Are there?”
“Nothing totally reliable.”
She sucked in an unsteady breath. This was more like haggling over the price of a loaf than entering into four days of sensual abandon. “You needn’t worry.”
He took her hand. It was the first time tonight he’d touched her. Perhaps she made progress after all.
“I’m not worried.” He sounded different, like the man who brought her to shuddering release. The abrupt change left her reeling and not a little wary.
“You’re not?” She sucked in a shaky breath and curled her fingers around his. Now that he’d touched her, she wasn’t letting go until she had to.
“If I get you with child, I want your word you’ll tell me.”
“I don’t think—”
“I want your word you’ll tell me and we’ll marry.”
Shock slammed through her and she tried to jerk away. “Marry? You?”
His lips lengthened in a wry smile. “Please don’t spare my feelings.”
She stiffened, horrified where her recklessness had led. It had taken her painful soul-searching to reach a point where she was willing to trust her body to Jonas. The idea of trusting the rest of her life to him pushed against barriers she’d spent years fortifying. “You know I have no wish to marry.”
All humor fled his face. “No child of mine will be born a bastard.”
“You don’t want to marry me.”
His eyebrows arched. “I can think of worse fates.”
Astonishment made her words sound like flat denial. “Well, I don’t want to marry you.”
“Clearly, but that’s my offer.”
She drew herself up and this time he released her. “After all the flirtation and… kissing and promises of seduction, you’ll send me away if I won’t agree to this one thing?”
His jaw set in an implacable line, although she read regret in his eyes. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“You didn’t say this last night.”
“Yes, well, last night proved a salutary lesson in the consequences of the selfish quest for pleasure.”
“You never thought about pregnancy? That’s too disingenuous.”
“It seemed counterproductive to raise this subject too early.”
She glowered. Why, oh, why was he doing this? Why wasn’t he catching her up in his arms and kissing her into a wild heaven? “It’s counterproductive to raise it now.”
A faint grimness shadowed his features. “I know I’m nobody’s idea of husband material, Sidonie.”
“No man is husband material,” she said sourly, challenging what she hoped was mere bluff. “Perhaps I should go back to Barstowe Hall after all.”
Before he spoke, she knew he wouldn’t relent. Of course he wouldn’t. He understood the stigma of illegitimacy too well. “You’re free.”
Free to return to her dull life at Barstowe Hall. Free to forgo her only chance at forbidden pleasure. Free never to see Jonas Merrick again. The thought chilled her like the wind against the cliffs last night.
She was free but she cursed her freedom.
“I don’t want to leave you.” Her gaze clung to his face as she frantically sought some hint of concession.
For a moment, she thought she might have won. He made a convulsive movement toward her and raised his hand to touch her.
He stopped before making contact. Strain tightened the skin over his angular features. “I don’t want you to go, bella.”
“Marriage is such a—” Her voice petered away.
Jonas surveyed her with a perceptive light in his eyes, as if he guessed her turbulent thoughts. “Serious step.”
The thought of marriage made her feel choked and trapped. More trapped than she’d felt offering herself to save Roberta. That was for a night, at most a week. Marriage was a lifetime of servitude. Rationally she recognized Jonas wasn’t William. It didn’t matter. The long-standing fear of male oppression born in childhood remained. She’d never deliver herself into
a man’s power the way a wife delivered herself to a husband. The way Roberta had delivered herself to William. The way her mother had delivered herself to her father. “Perhaps the need won’t arise.”
“Perhaps not.” His beautiful voice flattened, always a sign that he struggled for control. “Contingencies must be considered.”
“I’d expected a passionate lover, not a quibbling lawyer.”
“Sorry to disappoint, tesoro.” To her regret, he turned on his heel and stalked toward the door. “Sleep on it. The carriage remains at your disposal.”
“I don’t want you to be a good man,” she said in a muffled voice, frustration and chagrin swirling in her belly.
He frowned as he looked back. “I’m not good. I’m a beast and a brute. Didn’t Roberta tell you?”
She swallowed piercing compassion. “My sister was mistaken.”
Sadness tinged his smile. “No, bella, she wasn’t.”
He left her alone in the shadowy library.
The rewards of virtue were sparse indeed.
Jonas surveyed the mean little bed in his dressing room and couldn’t help thinking of the feather mattress he might be sharing right now. Soft, warm, roomy. And filled with the charms of Sidonie Forsythe. For all that, he couldn’t be sorry he’d made the ultimatum.
Sighing, he slumped onto the bed to tug off his boots. At least Mrs. Bevan had lit a fire so the room wasn’t the usual icy hellhole. Any chill emanated entirely from his yearning heart.
He caught himself staring into space with one boot in his hand and the other still on his foot. How elated he’d been to discover Sidonie downstairs. Briefly everything had turned right in his world. He was in such a pathetically bad way, seeing her when he’d thought never to set eyes on her again had seemed a blessing.
Whereas it was a curse.
The sooner she left his life, as she inevitably would, the sooner he’d forget her.
No point saying he’d never forget her.
Sidonie was just another woman. The conviction that he’d see her face when he shut his eyes the last time, probably as a bitter, bereft old man, was mere fancy. Nobody could mark his heart that deeply in four days. He might feel like she had, but good sense would prevail. One day.
He set down his boot and tugged off the second one. Every moment had a horrible pointlessness. Another moment would follow, then another. All the way to the end. Not one scrap of light or love or laughter in any of it.
Feeling like that old man, he rose and shucked his shirt. He splashed water into a bowl and sponged the day’s dirt away. The water was warm but felt cold. Everything felt cold. His life was immutable winter.
Ah, Sidonie, if only you knew what pain you cause.
He turned to grab a towel and something, perhaps a stray eddy of air, made him glance up. Sidonie, her hair flowing around her like shot silk, hovered in the doorway.
Jonas bit back a groan. How much more could he take before he broke? Midnight encounters with his only desire tested resolve beyond measure. Especially when his only desire wore nothing but his sheer white shirt extending to mid-thigh.
The towel slipped from his hand as droplets of water trickled down his naked torso. “What is it, tesoro? Is something wrong?”
Her face was pale and set and her tension was visible even from several feet away. When she didn’t immediately answer, concern made him step forward. “Are you ill?”
She shook her head. Her great dark eyes fixed upon him as though she drowned and he offered her only hope of reaching shore.
“Sidonie?” he asked, seriously worried now. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t,” she croaked, and her delicate throat moved as she swallowed. He couldn’t help remembering how fine and fragrant the skin there was. She’d given him more than she should. Damn it, she hadn’t given him nearly enough.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t… say anything.”
What the hell? None of this made sense. Before he could inquire further, she launched at him with a rush of bare feet.
Automatically he caught her. His mind had a confused moment to register warmth and softness. His heart had a gratified moment to bask in touching her. Only a moment…
With trembling hands, she grabbed his head and dragged him down to press her mouth to his.
He’d been so busy inuring himself to never kissing her again, this onslaught left him bewildered. Her scent flooded his senses, mingling with the lemon soap he’d used for his wash. Teeth clashed as she clumsily forced her mouth against his. There was no sweetness. Just blind, angry determination to prevail.
After mere seconds, she pulled away to stare into his face with heart-stopping focus. She looked near to tears and her breath emerged in choked gasps as if she struggled against lancing pain. “Kiss me, curse you.”
“Sidonie…”
“Kiss me,” she grated out. In a frantic rhythm, her hands opened and closed on his bare arms.
“Gently, tesoro, gently.” He pressed his palms to her cheeks to hold her still. His heart crashed against his ribs when he noticed blood on her lower lip where he must have nicked her with his teeth.
“No,” she moaned, pitching forward to kiss him again, still with that agonized violence. Her breasts mashed against his chest. She might as well have been naked. The pearls of her nipples tormented him through the thin linen. For all his misgivings, her unbridled assault had him hard as a pikestaff. He staggered under the enthusiasm, although he tasted more anguish than delight in her kiss.
No, he couldn’t do this. It wasn’t right. He ripped his mouth away from hers and resisted the fretful tug of her hands to bring him near. “Sidonie, what the hell is this?”
“I’m seducing you,” she said jerkily, stretching to run her mouth over his jaw. Sharp little nips lit a chain of explosions through his mind and made his cock throb with need. Devil take her, she drove him mad.
“This isn’t how it should be,” he said in a raw voice, his hands tangling in the back of her shirt. He told himself to push her away, but some things exceeded mortal will.
“It’s how it must be.”
So warm, so soft, so bloody eternally desirable, she slid against his body. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for control. What on earth was wrong with her? He feared she was here against her will, although he couldn’t guess why. He no longer held any power to compel her.
She wriggled in his arms, hooking a leg behind his knee and clawing at his shoulders. It made him hotter than Hades, blazing to have her, but still he struggled to keep his head. His hands lost purchase on her loose shirt and slipped to the lush curve of her bottom.
As his palms encountered satiny skin, astonishment jammed the breath in his throat. Under his shirt she was naked. “Good God…”
He told himself to make her slow down. To check this was what she wanted. Confirm she’d marry him if he got her with child. Except when she touched him, she made mockery of resolution. Still he could stop if he had to. He wasn’t an animal. He was a rational man, not a mere toy in her pale, slim hands. He told himself a thousand things as his touch became caress, exploration, enticement. He traced the smooth arch of her arse, gradually dipping lower.
As he touched the secret parts of her, she jerked. “Shh,” he soothed.
She was gloriously wet. He groaned and hid his face in her shoulder, bared under the loose collar. The darkness behind his eyes flared into flame as he stroked her. The craving to plunge into her became a storm to rival last night’s wild weather.
“Don’t let me go,” she begged, sagging against him.
“I don’t think I can,” he said in despair. He wrenched away long enough to extinguish the candles, sinking the room into firelit shadow. He’d prefer full darkness, but this dimness would have to serve. Rationally he knew that Sidonie had long ceased to shrink from his scars, but his vulnerable heart couldn’t bear for her to come so close to surrender only to realize she lay in a monster’s arms.
She was pan
ting when he caught her up against him. More kissing. More fevered caresses. When he swung her toward the narrow bed, he fell first so his weight didn’t crush her. She crawled up his body and kissed him. Physical urgency overwhelmed caution. He opened his mouth, ravishing her with lips and tongue and teeth.
He rolled her onto her back, rising over her. “I’ll rip this shirt to shreds.”
“Let me take it off,” she said breathlessly through a tangle of dusky hair. Her lips were swollen and her eyelids drooped over glittering eyes. She shifted and a drift of her arousal intoxicated him. He straddled her legs. The shirt hitched, revealing dark curls at the apex of her thighs. Lord above, she was beautiful. Everywhere.
She watched him as though she wanted to devour him. He’d remember that hungry expression as long as he lived. And count himself privileged, even if he had no more of Sidonie than tonight.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he groaned.
Her smile made his heart cartwheel. “I like looking at you.”
Her confession slammed through him like a gunshot. Damn it, she sounded like she meant it. He should remind her he was hideous inside and out. Warn her she risked destruction giving herself so wholeheartedly.
His protest died unspoken when she tugged the shirt open to reveal her breasts. Round. Perfect. He kissed one beaded raspberry nipple and she arched on a whimper of pleasure. Such a sensual creature. Such a shining soul.
He loved her shining soul.
Tragically, he loved more than that.
The idea slithered through his fuddled mind like a snake. Then Sidonie sighed and conscious thought abandoned him. All that remained was the thirst to possess. He parted her legs and slid between her thighs. She sighed again. These sweet little sighs would have him losing himself before he was inside her. He explored her satiny cleft, brushing the center. Once. Twice. A third time. She made a strangled sound and surged against his hand.
The urge to have her beat a pounding march in his head. Still, her virginity tempered recklessness. With a gentleness that made him shake, he slid one finger into her. Slick heat made his cock swell with eagerness. She clenched in welcome. He withdrew, feeling each clinging inch, then penetrated her with two fingers.
Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed Page 15
