He picked up his goblet and drained the wine. She refilled it quickly. He caught the bottle from her and refilled her own. She swallowed it, still inviting, a challenge for him to do the same with his own.
"Do you always drink so much?" he asked, amused.
She made no attempt to hide her reaction. Indeed she looked very smug, pleased with herself. "The sisters at the convent and a few of the other girls--sometimes when there was nothing to do, we'd sneak down to the cellars and talk for hours upon hours. Oh, I could out-last them all--but you know, sometimes when I think back on it, I don't think they drank anything at all. I suppose they were just lending me their very own spiritual guidance--protecting me. But they did like to tell stories." Her voice had turned wistful, almost as if she cherished the stolen moments and the small transgression.
Even the nuns, he thought, had been caught in her devilment, unable to refuse the smile, the wide-eyed innocent stare of hers. It seemed no one could say "no" to this little devil.
"And what would you talk about?"
She giggled. And she sounded so young to him.
"Everything... Sometimes men. They loved to talk about the men who traveled the roads, the salesmen that brought food and clothes, the priests. Oh they had so very much to say about the priests." She looked at him then and suddenly seemed to remember what she was about. "Well, you know how it goes, one drink led to another. There were so many bottles that no one missed them. If they did, they never mentioned it. But we had to be quiet and so careful not to laugh too loud." Again, she was telling him more than she meant to say. She leaned closer, trying to make it look like she was getting a little bit tipsy. "But what of you? Surely you have some amusing tales to tell."
Again, she poured wine into his glass. And he poured wine into hers. They drank it, all the while keeping their gazes on each other.
It had become more than a game now. "To women," he said.
"To men," she replied with a wink.
Her smile was more alluring than he could remember, and her cheeks were flushed. She started to pour from the bottle again, allowing her arm to brush against his as she reached for his glass.
He clamped his fingers tightly around the bottle. Surprised, she quickly looked at him. She would not relinquish her hold.
"All men?" he queried. "Even Savage?"
"Never," she told him coolly.
"Be forewarned that I am not going to become so hazy you can seduce me. I do know your game. We could match glass for glass and still you would succumb far sooner than I."
She dropped her hand from the bottle. The alluring smile vanished, her expression unreadable and her stance untouchable. Then despair was etched clearly in her face, sadness clouding her eyes once more. "I can imagine you've had a great deal of practice," she countered. "Rest assured I will never try anything so foolhardy again."
He smiled. She had been trembling so hard that for a moment he believed her. At least, he thought wryly, she wouldn't try it with him. The humiliation was obvious, and he didn't like himself very much for it, but what the devil was he supposed to do? "So the good sisters speak of men. I find that amusing."
"You would. You think they are different from others, that they have no curiosity." She hesitated a moment, thinking. It seemed he could see the wheels turning in her mind.
"Curiosity? Ah, so they sit in the cellar, giggling, wondering what it would be like to be with a man, and you reward them with your vast experience," he mused, smiling.
"I know what a man looks like. One of the other girls at the convent stumbled in on a young man who was there to take refuge for the night. He was as naked as the day he was born and...well...he was...." She caught her lower lip beneath her teeth then frowned thoughtfully.
"Go on." He leaned back, propping his feet negligently on the seat of a chair.
She stepped toward him again and spoke very softly. "I cannot understand why you find this so amusing, nor can I understand why you insist on turning me over to Savage. I will wither and die."
He pushed away from the table with a mercuric oath, standing and walking around her to study her. "You are exhausting my patience. Understand this. You will not leave here. You don't realize the danger beyond these doors. Do you think your father and Jonathan are fools? Why do you think he added the codicil to his will?"
"I--to torment me."
"Your father, even in his death, cared about your safety. Far more than you, it seems."
"I don't need a man's protection."
"Ah, but you do. What do you think would have happened the other night if I had not arrived in the nick-of-time, so to speak?"
"I would have gone down the tower ladder by myself. That is not so hard to comprehend."
He shook his head. "And when the rung slipped from its upright, you would have plunged to your death. You underestimate Quentin Morray. Neither he nor Sheridan will quit. Morray is heavily in debt and he needs the revenue from the lab in order to pull himself out. He needs you as his wife. A marriage to you would offer him more prestige than he could ever acquire on his own. Your only recourse is marrying as your father specified."
Her eyes blazed. She was magnificent in her anger and her passion. She rose and walked to the fire, her chin held at a slight angle, hiding her emotions from him. Had she accepted her fate at last? She stood there in silence.
Suddenly, she whirled around to confront him again, battling always. The light from the fire behind her cast her face in shadows, and still he could not see her eyes or her expression.
"The wisdom of a wise man; a man, though, who does not look upon a woman as an equal," she said very softly, but there was venom in her words, a ferocity she tried to hide.
Just the fervor in her voice made a cryptic, scorching tension surge through him.
"In many regards and in this era a woman is not equal."
She held herself rigid for a moment. The silence, thick and heavy, surrounded them. He knew she would misinterpret his words and he did not care how she saw them, but he also had to convince her how much she needed him, needed Cameron.
"So you think a woman is good for only one thing?"
"I never said that."
"I would give you what you want."
As he studied her, he made a huge effort to stamp down his rising temper and yes, his passion. You don't understand anything."
"I am offering whatever you wish to take. For my freedom," she added swiftly.
He was dead silent. "What I wish."
She breathed deeply. He could see the tension radiating outward from her eyes and her lips were pressed tightly together.
"I know you want me," she whispered. She straightened again and their eyes met. Hers were still flashing, and the light of battle shown fiercely from them. A fierce pounding exploded within his head and a rush of adrenalin surged through his blood stream. His hands shook, and he clenched them tightly together to still the trembling.
"This is no game," he muttered furiously.
"I never thought it was."
He battled the horrible tempest and rage that simmered inside, yet his temper grew. He knew not what he would do. He'd never felt such raw anger before or such mercuric desire. She had to learn what she implied, for even in his mind he knew she had no idea of what she was promising or that in a matter of seconds he could be sheathed tight within her womb and rocking it with her until she cried out with the greatest pleasure. "Take the shirt off."
"No."
He smiled then. "No? But you just told me I could have whatever I wished. And babe, I want to see you. All of you."
"Can't you seduce me without looking?"
"Of course, and perhaps in time I will. But for now...." he let the words hang suspended in time while he watched the light trembling of her body. Her air of confidence had vanished the moment he expressed his wish. What had she thought?
"For now..."
Her voice sounded thready and desperate. He battled the relief he felt at her hesitance. "Once wi
ll hardly be enough to satisfy me." He had her in the palm of his hand. She'd back off now, but the smug feeling vanished when he looked up and saw her toying with the top button to her shirt.
"Once...that's all," she whispered.
She'd moved on to the next button even though her entire body trembled. The tempest inside him was growing again, his anger, his frustration. She meant to betray him, here and now. The third button slipped through the hole, and he could see the soft ivory swell of her breasts--her nipples. His fingers wound around the arms of his chair, tightly so.
It was more than he could take, more than he wanted to resist, but if he ever meant to find happiness with this little lady, he must end this now. It would not do to let her have her way in this. She was his, and he would not stand by and watch her give herself to another man.
He strode across the room to her and pulled her into his arms. His actions were not well done, and his anger was so great he had a hard time controlling himself. She cried out in alarm as her body met his. This time he felt no mercy, no tenderness. It was a lesson in seduction, nothing more. He would not make love to her even though his body cried out in need and hunger. His lips descended slowly, lingering, building the anticipation. He wanted her to think about what she gave, and how it felt to betray a fiancé. His mouth moved against hers. His tongue gently stroked until her lips parted and he entered her.
"Remember this when you lie in your husband's bed. Remember the betrayal," he whispered close to her ear. He felt her body shudder then stiffen and when he looked into her eyes, she appeared as a frightened animal. He gave her no quarter. His lips descended again with the intent of pressing home the point. His fingers brushed over the ivory length of her throat, slipping within the opening of her shirt, and curled around the fullness of her breast, testing the firmness of each nipple. "Will this feel the same when your husband touches you here...like this?"
She gasped for air. She did not mean to stop him. He knew it. Yet she was stubborn and the lesson must go on. His lips slid from hers and he trailed fiery kisses downward. All the while he was kissing her, he was undoing the remaining buttons so that when he pushed the fabric aside, it fell from her shoulders.
He touched her breasts with his lips, slid lower to the naked flesh of her belly. His hands curved around the twin mounds of her derriere, pulling her closer. He touched her between her thighs. She wept for him. His fingers parted the delicate folds and touched her clit.
Then he felt a deep shudder pass through her and a wrenching moan, not of pleasure but of despair. A roaring reverberated through his head. Her long, delicate fingers were on his shoulders, and she was pushing him away, denying that which she had promised. It should have pleased him. It did. Yet he wondered if he could stop himself.
He drew back, yet their bodies still touched. Between them a wealth of emotions ricocheted with fury, despair, frustration. He did not see compliance or understanding. She had learned nothing. "My wishes, babe. Yet you have almost betrayed Cameron. You would have me do the same. I would make love to you now, but then you would come to Cameron not as the innocent you would try to proclaim."
She pushed away, an arm length at best. "I'd tell him that I had many lovers. I don't have to justify anything," she cried out, grabbing the shirt from the floor and holding it in front of her.
"I am supposed to take solace in that? You've not come even close to satisfying my wishes, and already you fight me. I would require so much more. You would have to come to me willingly and with a smile on your face and a sparkle of pleasure in your eyes. Yet even now your body weeps for me. You would come to me, and remember that after it was done, I would still take you to Cameron. I would make sure he knew of the seduction and the part I played. He would still marry you. There would be no escape, because he is honor bound to your father, and I am honor bound to Cameron."
She swung her arm in an attempt to strike him. He reached out and caught her arm. "Stop this!"
"Can't you see? I have no other choice."
"You have no right to betray Cameron."
She swore, finally pulling away from his ironclad hold and running away from him. "I owe Savage nothing. Nothing, I tell you."
"But you do owe your father."
"For banishment and for taking me away from my sister? Never."
"Cameron would not hurt you--"
"So you say. But I cannot be confined. I cannot live that way. I will not. You are as bad as Savage." She whirled again, turning from him. She fell to her knees, her head cradled in her hands, her hair falling over her shoulders.
It came as no surprise that he didn't like himself very much, but in his own defense, he reminded himself she was trying to sell herself to him to escape marriage--to him.
He walked to the door. He had to get away from all this confusion, from the fear and the hate that simmered and spun in the room. They had betrayed each other. How would he ever find a way to heal all the wrongs they had piled up today?
He hesitated at the doorway, pausing to take in huge gulps of air before turning back to look at her. The sight touched him as no other. "You will never know how close--"
"I was stupid," she murmured.
She rose from her kneeling position. When she turned, he could see the streaks of tears on her cheeks, but he also saw the regal tilt to her chin and the determination in her eyes. "I had no idea."
"Any man would have gladly taken what you offered.
"I want to know love before I am wed. I was only afraid of what I didn't understand."
"So you haven't changed your mind."
She clasped the shirt together in front, her eyes blazing. "No!"
Perhaps she had not learned the lesson, but he was angry still and more than a little frustrated. "I would like desperately to understand the strange workings of your mind--your very feminine mind. All common sense seems to elude you."
She lowered her lashes, and he wondered what she was trying to hide from him this time. He would never understand, he realized belatedly, never be able to communicate with this wild, impetuous spirit. Perhaps her father had found the only viable solution to Victoria's independent nature.
Banishment.
"I seek only my freedom. There is nothing difficult to understand about that."
"You seek that which does not exist. Everyone is accountable to someone. There is no freedom as you envision it," he reminded her.
"I will not be accountable to a barbarian. You, on the other hand..."
He threw up his hands. "You're incorrigible."
"In case you never took a good look at yourself, so are you," she murmured, her head tilting slightly as if questioning her own admonition. "I don't feel well." She looked at him wearily.
She turned from him and walked to the fire, holding her arms around her waist and rocking slightly. Her shoulders were hunched over, and she really didn't look well. He studied her for a second and was amazed by the tenderness welling deep inside for her.
She would never make life easy for him, but then he'd never sought a life of leisure. She was an adventure waiting to happen, and perhaps with her at his side, their lives would always be interesting. But he knew he had a long way to go before he could win her to his side.
He strode into the bedroom, to the closet and returned with a pair of leggings. He handed them to her, and after she took them, he brushed a lock of hair from her eyes.
She jumped slightly at his touch. "Please..."
He smiled tenderly at her. Hers was such a beautiful face. The plea was spoken with such a sweet innocence. It was easy to see why DeMontville was forced to send her away, why she had Jonathan wrapped so tightly around her little finger. "I would have you set me free."
"The price or the reward would remain the same. I would claim what Cameron should have."
"I would not regret it," she promised softly.
"You called me a barbarian. Is that what excites you? I assure you I'm no savage in bed." He winced at his choice of words, and he saw
she'd noticed and was smiling now.
She tilted her head solemnly, the smile gone. There was something intriguing about the motion and even about her quiet and thorough perusal of himself. He felt suddenly as if she was stripping the clothes from his body and finding him to her liking. Then she blushed, unable to meet his eye. "You are no savage. I know that. I regret my hasty use of the word barbarian, but I was angry. Once, before I find myself married to Savage, I would like to feel cherished. I seek only a moment of love. No commitment."
"To punish him?" he demanded suddenly. "Victoria, this is not right. He will not take kindly to this betrayal."
Rebel Heart Page 24
