Her silky hair brushed against his chin, her full breasts pressed against him, and her delicate, natural scent filled his lungs. “I think it’s a waltz,” he mumbled.
“But we’re scarcely moving.”
His heart was hammering. She could probably hear it. “Subtlety in movement is an art.” He turned her again to maintain a semblance of dancing.
“Oh, I think I see now… I bet you run with a fast crowd in New York.”
His friends tended to be modern and unconventional in their attitudes, and for that reason they were often misunderstood. He wondered if she’d like them. Then he wondered why he’d thought of that at all, and his mouth drifted to the soft outer rim of her ear. “Positively decadent.”
They moved in time to the next song and the next, their bodies gradually melding closer. He couldn’t make himself let her go, and she gave no sign of reluctance. Thankfully, she hadn’t asked him any more questions. She leaned against him as the violins swelled, relying more and more upon his strength for support.
Instinct took over, and he shifted his footwork and balance to tilt her backward upon his arm in a dip. She stared up at him with wide eyes as he held her suspended. His entire body felt as though it were pounding, demanding… It would be so easy.
It would be wrong.
Despite her circumstances, Madeleine struck him as essentially naïve about sexual matters. She was at a disadvantage in every way, and only a conscienceless cad would take advantage of that.
He brought her upright once again, released her, and stepped back. “I’m tired of this song.”
Confusion replaced the soft expression on her face. She reached out to him. “If we wait a moment, they’ll play another.”
A sudden gust cooled his face and his blood. Sanity returned. “No, I think you’ve learned enough for one evening.”
Chapter Ten
Claudine walked ahead of Leo in the sconce-lit, red-carpeted corridor. She’d felt so warm and safe and wonderful in his arms. It had been magical for her until he pulled away so abruptly.
She supposed she must have done something terribly gauche. Her raucous manner of laughing was probably to blame. Now he would go see Mrs. Glendenning, who laughed in a ladylike manner if in fact she ever laughed at all.
At the door of their stateroom, he saw her safely inside, turned on the globe lamp on the console table, and immediately turned to go.
She betrayed her desperation by following him to the door, but she couldn’t help herself. “You’re not staying?”
“I’m not tired.” He reached for the brass knob. “I need some exercise. I might walk on deck for a while.”
She nodded, painfully aware of his destination. She hardly had any right to be jealous, but she was. This was the last night of their voyage, the last night she’d have his attention. In New York, he’d be busy building and acquiring more theaters, expanding his empire, and there would always be new women to interest him.
“I’m not tired either. Another game of chess?” Her attempt at cheerfulness sounded overeager. “You might actually win for a change. You never know.”
“Maybe tomorrow.” He gave her an affectionate peck on the cheek and opened the door.
Such a temptress she was. No man in his right mind would turn down what Mrs. Glendenning was offering for a board game. That hungry, possessive look on the widow’s face flashed in Claudine’s mind and she heard herself ask, “What if I make the match more interesting?”
Leo paused. Then he turned, closing the door behind him. “What are you offering?” The tension in his voice made her pulse race.
She wasn’t at all certain what she was doing. Some mysterious inner force was driving her. She took a deep breath and looked at him directly, as one should for all legitimate bargains. “For each piece forfeited, the loser will remove one item of clothing.”
She watched his expression change from shock to suspicion to anticipation.
“Wherever did you come up with such an idea? It seems so out of character for you.”
Where indeed? She was a complete stranger to herself now. “It seems there are aspects of my character you don’t know.”
He must have sensed her indecision because he reached out and cupped her cheek, tilting her chin upward to meet his gaze. “Please don’t toy with me, Madeleine. I don’t like games.”
A dizzying mix of impulses surged through her body from the warmth of his hand. Half of her longed to kiss him; the other half implored her to flee.
The first impulse was stronger. Fearful or not, she suddenly knew very clearly what she wanted: the same thing Mrs. Glendenning had gotten. If anyone could conquer the ugly memories which haunted her by replacing them with beautiful ones, it had to be Leo.
“You might like this one.” Her heart was beating so fast she sounded breathless. “The odds favor you.”
His sensual mouth curved into a wolfish grin that frightened and excited her at the same time. “Then by all means let’s proceed.”
He gave her décolletage a considering look, which would have been rude under any other circumstance. “But I have you at a disadvantage. You’re already far less attired than I. Would you like to throw on a shawl, perhaps?”
“I have no need for such ploys,” she replied, warming to her new sense of power and confidence. “Besides, you underestimate the complexity of female attire.”
He cocked his head. “Do I? There’s no need to rush our little game. In fact, I’ll enjoy it more if we don’t.” He ambled over to the liquor trolley and poured himself a drink. “Would you care for a cocktail?”
What need? She was already intoxicated by the situation unfolding before her. “No. I’ll need to keep my wits about me.”
“I’ll say,” he muttered to himself.
A strange thing happened once the game began. Her mind cleared, and her focus sharpened. She meant to lose, of course. Losing would give her an excuse to slowly display her body to him, thereby seducing him without seeming to be trying.
But defeat did not come easily to her. Her heart raced at each pivotal turn in the match as though her survival depended upon each decision. She never played so well.
But he played better. Her best strategies failed her in the face of his more inventive ones. Had he concealed his full mastery of the game in their prior matches just to be kind, or was he simply more familiar with her tactics now?
By agreement and by plan, she gradually discarded her clothing, revealing her body to him as he reclined against the settee pillows like a pasha enjoying his evening entertainment.
Her shoes went first, then her stockings. His keen attention so riled her during their removal she snagged them. Now they lay in a pile on the rug, hopelessly ruined. Next, came her petticoat in a whoosh of ruffle-edged silk.
On her following turn, she captured one of his pawns. He unknotted his white bow tie, dropped the rumpled length of silk at her feet, and unbuttoned the uppermost button on his white linen shirt with evident relief.
Her losing streak gained momentum after that, culminating in the unanticipated loss of one of her knights. She looked down at her attire, suddenly unclear about what remained and the overall wisdom of her plan. The obvious next layer would be her gown. She couldn’t remove any of her undergarments without removing the dress first.
Leo observed her with a patient and exceptionally polite expression.
She’d become adept at dressing and undressing without assistance, but now her hands shook so badly the tiny uppermost hook on the back of her gown eluded her. She felt utterly out of her depth.
He rose suddenly. “Wait.”
She lowered her arms from their awkward position. Apparently, he didn’t want her to expose herself to him in some lascivious game after all. In all the ways that mattered, Leo Barnett was the very essence of a gentleman. She always knew it.
“I’ll help you. That gown cost a fortune. I wouldn’t want you to tear it.”
Maybe not. “Yes. That would be reg
rettable.”
He came behind her and separated the hooks easily. His hands were large, but his fingers were long and nimble, artistic. Tension mounted in the pit of her stomach.
Talking seemed like a good way to gloss over her increasing sense of vulnerability. “Have you ever painted?” she asked, looking straight ahead at the vacant settee. “Perhaps you inherited your father’s talent.”
“Not a drop though my parents did hope otherwise. They named me after Leonardo da Vinci…”
“I see. No expectations there. But you could have fared worse. I was named after a woman who led a tragic life and died young. A friend of my mother’s… It was so strange. Sometimes she would say my name and look at me with such sadness and love at the same time.”
“Bittersweet—I know that look well.”
When his hands touched her shoulders, she could think of nothing else to say. Slowly, he slid her tiny sleeves down her arms until her dress gaped open in the back. She could feel the heat of his gaze upon her bare shoulders and neck as he stood silently behind her.
His fingers skimmed ever so gently downward over her corset cover, tracing the curve of her back. She couldn’t breathe.
“I think the easiest solution would be to pull the gown over your head.” His words sounded husky and strained. “It’s very narrow here.” His hands encircled her waist. His thumbs brushed slowly back and forth over layers of cambric and satin. “Stay still.”
Still was easy to manage. She felt rooted to the spot. Her nape tingled from the warmth of his breath, and lower down, where his hands gripped her and everywhere in between, she tingled from the inside. A novel sensation indeed.
When he slid her sleeves back to her shoulders and told her to lift her arms, she did as directed as if in a trance. Green silk covered her field of vision as the slinky fabric slipped up over her body and face. She felt naked though she still wore most of her undergarments.
Demonstrating little of his professed concern for the gown, he tossed the garment onto an armchair. “Whew! That was an effort. You were correct about the complications of female attire. You have my sympathy. I believe it’s your turn. You’ve plenty of time to turn this match around,” he said with an easy grin that displayed just how good he was at lying.
The game resumed, but her concentration deserted her. All she could think about was what would happen when she lost all her clothes, the inevitable outcome of her plan. Would he immediately pounce upon her or would he use more finesse? It seemed to her men could not control their primal urges once they were roused. But then she was nearly naked already, and he hadn’t leaped yet.
If he didn’t try to make love to her when she was completely nude, what would she do then? Would she have to initiate the act or, far worse, would she have to ask for it? She didn’t think she could bring herself to do that.
He, on the other hand, seemed even more relaxed, as if he found himself in such debauched situations all the time. “I don’t mean to rush you, but you’ve been deliberating for nearly ten minutes now.”
She looked over her shoulder at the clock on the writing table for verification and saw he was correct. She snatched up some random white piece and moved it to some random black square. Was that right? Was that even chess?
One dark eyebrow lifted. “If I didn’t know you for a cutthroat competitor, I’d suspect you were throwing the game. What devious strategy is in your head now?”
She shrugged.
He took his time in claiming his victory, using five turns, precisely the number of underclothes she had left. Now she wore only her chemise, of shell pink silk trimmed with a narrow edge of lace. Her scheme was nearly complete. All she had to do was lift it over her head, but her courage failed.
“I won’t hold you to it,” he said, leaning back against the cushions. “I only wanted to see how far you’d go.”
Was she supposed to be grateful? She was in fact irked. “Why? Are you testing me again?”
“I think the reverse is true. This little diversion was your idea, and my resistance to temptation has its limits. I don’t think there’s a man on this ship who would refuse your challenge, even though it was obvious from the start you wouldn’t be able to go through with it.”
The blatant hunger in his gaze, the sensual promise in voice stirred something wicked and reckless inside of her and made her recall why she’d begun this ploy in the first place. “Who says I can’t?” One way or another, she would finish what she started.
Somewhere a trumpet blared out a bouncy tune, hardly the right mood for what she had in mind, but it would have to do. “Would you care to dance?”
He grinned slowly, triumphantly. “You are full of excellent ideas this evening.” He put down his drink and came to his feet, and she moved easily against his lean, hard body when he took her in his arms.
His heat and spicy male scent enveloped her as they swayed together to their own rhythm. Beneath the thin barrier of her silk chemise, she was naked while he was fully clothed. It felt indecent. And she liked it.
His mouth skimmed her earlobe, the warmth of his breath making her quiver. Her knees wobbled, and she clutched his shoulder. His muscles flexed under her palm. At last his lips brushed against her own in a way that felt somewhere between a tickle and a caress. Instinctively, she kissed him back in the very same way.
Contrary to her expectations, he was endlessly patient with her, teasing here, lingering there. Her eyes drifted closed. His hands slid down her sides and over her bottom, pulling her closer. She melted against him. When his tongue swept inside her mouth, she welcomed it. No wonder Mrs. Glendenning wouldn’t leave him alone.
Then in one quick movement, he lifted her up against his chest, and she knew the moment she’d planned for had come. He carried her toward the bedroom, barely pausing to bend his knees and open the door with his elbow.
She felt the soft give of a mattress beneath her. Leo nuzzled her neck as her as his legs came between her own. His hands swept over her breasts down her ribcage to her hips like a sculptor lovingly shaping his ideal woman, but something inside her began to shift. All she could think about was his weight pressing down upon her and his arousal asserting itself at the apex of her thighs.
The expansive floating feeling evaporated. Her muscles clenched as her entire being contracted with fear. Her eyes opened. She tried to focus upon the face she adored, but another face, arrogant and contemptuous, intruded. Philippe’s cutting words and rough invasion came back to her, and her body turned rigid.
Leo rolled off of her at once and searched her face. “You’re trembling. What’s wrong? “I thought you wanted this… I’m sorry.”
What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she forget? She couldn’t stop shaking. “I did… I do.”
He got up from the bed and ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t think so. Did you think you had to indulge me because I expected it? Did I somehow give you that impression?”
“No!”
He exhaled heavily. “We’ll pretend none of this ever happened. That would be better for both of us. Less complicated. Nothing has changed.”
Her throat clogged from frustration and despair. “Everything has changed and you’ll avoid me because of it.”
He stared at her in confusion for a long while. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, but he didn’t try to touch her in any way. “That wouldn’t be my preference… I’ve come to care very deeply for you.”
The tenor of his voice warmed her heart and renewed her determination to conquer her problem. She raised his hand to her lips, kissed it, and placed it on her breast. “Please make love to me. I was only having an attack of nerves earlier.”
He gently removed his hand. “You sound like a soldier preparing for battle. We’ve only known each other a short while. You’re clearly not ready, and I don’t want you to have any regrets.”
“I wouldn’t. I promise.”
“That’s not a promise you can make,” he said grimly, leaning back again
st the brass headboard.
There would never be another time. He had his theaters and his social circle waiting for him in New York, and she would be busy trying to convince audiences she was a professional singer. They’d probably never even see each other.
A cloud of futility and darkness engulfed her. She was doomed to be alone all her life. Her eyes welled. “I only want be a normal woman like Corinne Glendenning.”
“There is nothing normal about that woman. You are far, far better off than she.”
Some awful force within her compelled her to say, “You wouldn’t say that if you knew what I’ve done. I’ve disgraced my family... I’m ruined.”
The scorn she’d anticipated didn’t come. Instead, his expression was empathetic as he stroked her hair. “I dislike that word. From my perspective, you are perfect.”
Obviously, he didn’t understand. For some unknowable reason she felt the need to clarify the matter for him. “I brought it all upon myself. I let a man kiss me and touch me when I knew I should not.”
The stroking continued, and a soothing current coursed from her scalp down the back of her neck and spine. “It’s not wrong to want affection. That doesn’t give someone the right to take advantage of the situation. It’s abundantly clear to me that whatever that man did to you was not of your choice.”
His opinion did not make her recollection of the occurrence any less vile, but she felt somewhat lighter, as though untethered from of a heavy weight. “You are very modern in your views,” she said in a choked whisper.
The pad of his thumb swept across her damp cheek. “I’ve come to hold this particular view on the basis of firsthand experience.”
He sprawled beside her, rested his head on a pillow, and looked up at the coffered ceiling. “My mother managed a settlement house for immigrants. I was expected to assist her whenever I wasn’t in school. She had a staff, but there were always too many jobs to do. Repairs, maintenance, settling arguments, crowd control. Everyone needed something. I helped where I could despite my youth. I learned if you act with authority, people will assume you have it and seek you out to solve their problems.”
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