"Oh, my. She really did ruffle your feathers, didn't she?" Royce observed with relish. Then, mindful of the fact that he would do their cause no good by infuriating Latimer's sister, he smiled at her charmingly and murmured, "You must forgive me, Lady Bowden, for teasing you so—it is, I'm afraid, a very American habit."
Deborah sniffed but did not return an answer. Instead, looking pointedly at her brother, who had remained silent during this exchange, she said, "It is time that we left—I doubt that our host and hostess will think of us at all!"
Deborah erred in her assumption. Melissa was thinking quite a lot about the other woman, and her thoughts were not the least bit pleasant—nor were the various grisly fates she had considered for both her husband and his inamorata. It was only by concentrating on the as-yet-undecided glorious revenge that she was going to take that Melissa was able to prevent herself from whacking her despicable husband about the head and shoulders with the nearest weapon she could find. Rage like she had seldom experienced in her young life billowed through her, and she was grateful for the concealing darkness and for these few moments in which to gather her composure before returning, like the good hostess she was, to her guests. As for her husband... She would like to... Unable to think of any fate satisfyingly wicked enough for him, she stared stonily ahead.
If Melissa had assumed that her rage was not obvious to her husband, she was mistaken. Dominic was very conscious of the strong emotions that radiated from her slim body, and he was certain that if there had been enough moonlight for him to see more clearly, his wife's form would be vibrating with suppressed fury. He didn't blame her for feeling the way she did and frustrated dismay washed through him. Somehow he had to make amends. Sending her profile an uneasy glance, he took a deep breath and began tentatively, "Melissa, I know that the situation looks damning, but I'd like to try to explain matters to you. Believe me, you have nothing to fear from Lady Bowden, and if I seem at times to prefer her company unduly, it has nothing to do with you."
"Well, thank you very much!" Melissa burst out stormily as she swung around to glare at him, her eyes burning golden in her pale face. With fists clenched at her sides, she said hotly, "I don't want to hear any of your explanations. Your conduct this evening has made it clear that you care nothing for my feelings, and in the future you can be certain that I will care nothing for yours! Now if you will excuse me, I have guests to see to—something you seem to have forgotten.!"
His own temper rising, Dominic's eyes were equally bright with anger as he snarled, "Bloody hell! Listen to me! I know it looks bad, but at the moment I have to—" He stopped, sickly aware that he had no idea if he could trust Melissa with the reasons behind his actions. If he were to tell her, and if she were to act in the manner of several women whom he could call to mind, it wouldn't take long for word to reach Deborah's ears and then everything would have been for naught. Worse, Latimer would know that they were suspicious of him.
Foot tapping furiously, arms closed across her small bosom and her chin set, she inquired ominously, "Yes? You have to...?"
It was obvious that she wasn't going to believe a word of what he said anyway. Dominic smothered a curse, dwelling lovingly on telling Jason Savage precisely what to do with certain intimate parts of the human anatomy. Feeling as if his cravat were going to choke him, he vented some of his thwarted spleen by snapping, "It doesn't matter. In the mood you're in right now, you wouldn't listen to reason anyhow."
"And I suppose, if positions were reversed, you would?" she asked sweetly.
"Yes! No!" he shot back, uncertain whether he could ever act in a rational manner around this beguiling little shrew whom he had married. He tried to get his fraying temper under control, and reaching for Melissa, he caught her shoulders and shook her gently as he said in a less heated tone of voice, "We can't continue this way... we must talk—"
It had been a mistake to touch her, as he soon found out to his cost. Melissa's frail composure snapped when he laid hands on her, and flinging aside his hold in one furious motion, she said in a voice of icy fury, "Don't touch me!"
If her composure cracked, Dominic's fairly exploded at her angry words. Not touch her? When she was his wife? When he ached for her? When she filled his every thought? When he had lain awake night after night, his body burning with desire for her? Forgetting every promise he had made himself, forgetting that now was not the most propitious moment, allowing anger to give him the excuse he needed to break the bonds he had placed upon himself, he grabbed her upper arms and yanked her roughly against him. His mouth mere inches from hers, he breathed thickly, "Not touch you? You ask the impossible, madam." And his mouth came down crushingly on hers, his lips hard and demanding, permitting no escape from his fierce kiss.
At first too blinded by her flaming temper to feel anything but sheer rage, Melissa fought him, twisting wildly in his powerful embrace, her fists, doing as she had longed to do earlier, striking him about the head and shoulders. It was all to no avail. Dominic seemed oblivious to anything but forcing a response out of her, his hands tightening around her arms, his mouth moving with urgent hunger against hers.
For perhaps thirty seconds longer the battle raged between them, Melissa driven by fury and Dominic goaded by base instincts he had not known he possessed. Suddenly, treacherously, Melissa became aware of the familiar, sweet tide of desire that was flowing with increasing power through her body, felt the hot ache in her loins, felt herself straining closer to Dominic, not in anger but in wanton hunger. Appalled, she tried to still the urges which had sprung to life within her at Dominic's potent kisses, but the pull between them was too great, too inevitable to ever be destroyed.
Mind spinning, she knew she had to escape from him, but now for a totally different reason, and her movements became frantic as she made several futile attempts to break his hold upon her. And all the while she could feel her resolve slipping, feel herself sliding helplessly deeper into desire's dark, mesmerizing web. She made one last valiant effort to get away, but Dominic's arms only held her more securely, his ravishing kisses smashing through the frail barriers she had erected between them. Shame and desire mingled together as, with a little sob of defeat, she gave up the battle and passionately returned his kisses, her arms circling his neck, her body arching up against him.
Her surrender was his undoing, and he was blind to everything but the warm, yielding body in his arms. Only Melissa's sweet response held any meaning for him; only her soft lips and teasing little tongue impinged upon his consciousness; that, and her arousing body and the fierce desire that flooded his entire being. Mindless with passion, he slid his hands to her hips, pulling her closer to him, maneuvering his body in carnal rhythms against her. He ached for her, wanted her with such a burning intensity that he was certain that if he could not have her he would die with wanting. Lifting his head, his voice husky and blurred by passion, he muttered, "You're driving me insane! You must let me...." His eyes were claimed by the expanse of creamy flesh that rose above her gown, and unable to resist the lure, he pressed hot, tiny kisses across her bosom, saying thickly, "I've never felt this way before—you're all I can think of. I lie awake remembering what it felt like to have your naked flesh next to mine... the sweet taste of your breasts... the pleasure you give me.... I want you so badly, I cannot think...."
His words were bittersweet to Melissa, and if there had been one word of love, one hint that he felt more for her than a moment's bodily gratification, she might have been able to forget all that had gone before. But she could not, and with every word he uttered, it became painfully clear that he felt nothing but animal lust for her. Any woman would have done for him, and though it was her body of which he spoke, she could envision him saying the same thing to Deborah—perhaps he had earlier. That knowledge was as effective as a dousing of icy water, and her once-unbridled passion vanished. Humiliation and despair coursing through her, she tried to push herself away from him.
Dominic resisted her attempts to fre
e herself, but something in her manner, something about the way she was struggling, got through to him and he finally, reluctantly, released her. His own passion ebbing slowly as the moments passed, puzzlement in his voice, he asked, "What is it? You wanted me... as desperately as I wanted you."
Not looking at him, she kept her face averted as she distractedly smoothed her gown, seeking unhappily for the right words. Suppose she were to say, "Wanting isn't enough. I want your love?" A bitter smile curved her mouth. How easily it would be for him to simply reply, "But I do love you!" She wasn't so naive that she didn't know that men said all manner of things in the throes of desire. How could she believe him? Especially since her statement would make it obvious what she wanted to hear. But she had to say something, and some of the fury she had felt earlier came seeping back into her consciousness as she said bluntly, "You're a practiced lover. I'm sure that you can make most women want you... for a while at least." Hiding her pain and bitterness, she ended, "I'm afraid that your, er, expertise overcame my scruples. But do not concern yourself about it—it won't happen again. And if it's a woman you want, I'm sure that Lady Bowden will be more than happy to supply your wants." Giving him an infuriatingly indifferent smile, she murmured, "And now I do believe that we should rejoin our guests, don't you?"
Melissa might have acted cool and indifferent, but inside she was a quaking mass of nerves, and her composure was not helped at all by the gaze that Dominic raked across her slim body. Why? he wondered with caustic anguish. Why does she do this to me? Warm and eager in my arms one minute, and the next as cold and unfeeling as an alabaster statue? She had wanted him, wanted him as passionately and desperately as he had wanted her, and yet... Yet for some reason, she pretended that the hunger they felt for each other did not exist. Why? But even as he stood there, fury and resentment building in his breast, it never occurred to him that in all their dealings together he had never mentioned love, had never given her any clue that there might be something deeper in the emotions that flowed so powerfully between them than just the desire to slake the body's carnal needs.
With a narrowed gaze he watched her, thinking savagely that he'd like to teach her a lesson about the foolishness of playing such a dangerous game—tantalizing and teasing him with that pliant, delectable body and then denying him what had been so freely offered only moments before. Did she do it for some perverse pleasure? Or was it simply sheer, spiteful willfulness?
The sound of muted laughter drifted through the warm night air, and knowing that she was right, that they did have guests, he smothered a curse and angrily offered her his arm. The gray eyes unfriendly and scornful, he sneered, "By all means, madam, let us rejoin our guests. At least there I can enjoy myself."
They played their roles very well for the remainder of the evening, and most of the guests were not aware of any constraint between their hosts. But Leonie noticed that something wasn't quite right, and as she and Morgan rode toward Oak Hollow in the small buggy Josh had lent them during their stay in the area, she commented on it. Her sea-green eyes troubled, she said, "Morgan, what is wrong with Dominic? I do not understand him. He has a lovely young bride and yet he allowed that harpy Deborah Bowden to command his attention." She scowled. "And even after I went to so much trouble to put him and Melissa together, something was very wrong between them as they were bidding all their guests good-bye."
Morgan laughed. "I wouldn't let it worry you, my dear. I'm certain that Dominic can handle his own domestic problems." Thoughtfully, he added, "Although I wouldn't want to be in his shoes right now. It's a very tricky path that he must traverse."
"Why?" she asked, her frown deepening. "All he has to do is stay away from the harpy and behave like an honorable and loving husband." Her frown vanished and she flashed her husband an elfin grin. "Just like mine!"
"Well, there is a bit more to it than that," Morgan answered unwisely, his attention on the horse as he guided the animal along the moonlit road.
"Oh?" Leonie asked, her interest piqued. "And what is that? Does it have anything to do with that meeting you had with Jason at Oak Hollow last week?"
Wishing his wife wasn't so observant, Morgan stifled a sigh. He and Leonie had no secrets, and he had complete trust in her ability to keep her mouth shut, if need be, but for reasons he didn't care to examine too closely, he had not told her what had transpired that night at Oak Hollow. Perhaps he'd had the suspicion that she would not look at it the same way he and Jason did; perhaps he had known that what they were asking of Dominic was unfair.
Suddenly uncomfortable, he muttered, "Jason has this notion that Latimer and his sister might be here for reasons other than the ones stated. And he wanted Royce and Dominic to keep their ears open."
"And?" his wife demanded.
Morgan cleared his throat. "And, um, Jason thought it might be a good idea, since Dominic bears Latimer no love, if Royce concentrated on Latimer and Dominic, ah, concentrated on Deborah."
"What?" Leonie shrieked, sitting up very straight beside her husband. Her eyes flashing dangerously, she inquired in a tone of voice that made Morgan's heart sink, "Are you telling me that you allowed Jason Savage to convince Dominic to pay attention to that harpy and ignore his bride?"
"Not exactly," Morgan retorted his own temper beginning to rise. "No one expects Dominic to sleep with the woman. We thought that there would be no harm if Dominic merely remained on friendly terms with her. She's made it obvious to everyone that she harbors, er, warm feelings for him, and we didn't see why we shouldn't take advantage of those feelings."
"Mon Dieu!" Leonie burst out, her face alight with the contempt she felt for this idea. "I cannot believe what I am hearing. He is a newly married man, you dolt! How can you ask him to pay attention to a woman other than his wife? No matter what the reason."
"Hellfire, Leonie! We're not asking him to sleep with the bloody woman—only to be on good terms with her and to keep his ears open."
"And not his breeches?" she inquired tartly, not the least impressed by her husband's arguments. "Ah, bah! It is no use talking to you. I am very angry with you. After all the years that I have wished and waited and yearned for Dominic to fall in love and marry, you do this! You and Jason will ruin his life. No wonder poor Melissa appears unhappy."
Jerking the horse to a standstill, his conscience stabbing him, Morgan glared at his wife. "You will not mention a word of this. I doubt that she is, but Melissa could be a prattle-trap, and until we know that she can keep her mouth shut, she isn't to know what Dominic is about." At his wife's cold silence, he added in a more conciliatory tone of voice, "I know that the timing isn't the best, but it is important that we know what Latimer is up to. There is good cause to believe that he is a spy for Britain and that his reasons for being here aren't in the best interests of our country."
Leonie was unmoved by his statement, and her chin lifted. "I am so angry with you," she muttered. "In fact, I am so angry with you I do not even want to discuss this distasteful subject any longer. In fact..." Her eyes narrowed and Morgan should have been on his guard, but he wasn't, and when she said, "Oh, dear! I have dropped my reticule on the road. Will you get it for me?" he should have been warned that his sweet wife was up to no good.
Cursing under his breath, Morgan handed her the reins, jumped down from the buggy and walked around to the other side. Reaching down to the ground, he found Leonie's beaded silk reticule and thrust it into her hand."There, madam, your reticule," he growled.
Leonie smiled coolly. "Thank you, monsieur, but I am still angry with you... and I don't want to see you anymore this evening." Before Morgan's dumbfounded gaze, she gave the horse a smart slap with the reins and left him standing alone in the middle of the road.
Turning the night air blue with curses, Morgan swore long and loud, promising that when he laid hands on his wife...
Since Leonie had left him a scant quarter mile from Dominic's place, and conscious of his wife's temper, Morgan deemed it wiser to seek other accommo
dations for the night. Grumbling all sorts of reprisals, he began to walk down the way he had just come.
He and Leonie had been the last of the evening's guests to depart, and he consoled himself with the knowledge that at least he wasn't going to have an audience to watch his ignoble return.
The cottage came into sight in just a few minutes, and Morgan was further relieved to discover that Dominic had not yet retired for the evening. As he walked up the steps, he spied Dominic sitting on the gallery, a full crystal decanter of brandy at his elbow, a half-filled snifter in one hand and a black cheroot in the other.
Dominic bore little resemblance to the nattily attired host to whom Morgan had bidden farewell only minutes before; his cravat was gone, his jacket had disappeared and his white cambric shirt was open nearly to his waist. He evinced no surprise at his brother's unexpected arrival, merely cocking one eyebrow, gesturing to a nearby seat and saying mockingly, "Leonie kick you out, did she?"
Morgan grinned, not at all abashed. "Yes, she did, the little devil. But I can't say that I blame her, although I intend to take full revenge for her antics."
Without further ado, Dominic rang for a servant, requesting another snifter, more cheroots and that a bed be prepared in his study for his brother. Within seconds, Morgan was leaning back in a chair, his jacket and cravat dispensed with and a snifter of brandy in one hand.
There were a few minutes of silence as the two men contemplated their fate. It was not pleasant. Morgan might have grinned and made light of his disagreement with Leonie, but he was not looking forward to the next few days. He knew full well that Leonie was not about to let things lie. He didn't fear that she would tell Melissa what they had discussed, but she was sure to meddle... and make life miserable for him. As for Dominic, he was grimly aware that until he could detach himself from Deborah, any hope of mending the ever-widening chasm between him and Melissa was impossible. It was a bleak future that faced both men, and almost simultaneously, they burst out, "Goddamn Jason Savage!"
Midnight Masquerade Page 31
