The Beloved Scoundrel (25 page)

S
he woke to see him standing naked at the window, staring out at the dawn sky.

Shock rippled through her, jarring her to wakefulness. She had studied the paintings of great artists, but she had never seen a nude man before. She found him far more pleasing than even the men created by Michelangelo. To her eyes they had seemed pale and overly brawny, while Jordan was tanned, sinewy, full of power and elegance. Tight buttocks flowed into lean, strong legs, and his shoulders were corded, not bulging, with sleek muscle.

She must have made some sound, because he turned and looked at her. “Good morning.”

He was perfectly at ease in his nakedness. She wished she could be as composed. “Good morning,” she whispered.

He stared at her without expression, and she had the uneasy feeling he was angry with her. That impression lasted only an instant before he smiled, once more drawing charm about him like a glittering
cloak. “You’re looking at me as if I were about to devour you. Do I appear so formidable?”

“No.” She found herself telling him the truth. “Actually I was thinking you were quite splendid. Much more comely than that statue of David by Michelangelo.”

“I thank you.” He bowed, somehow making the gesture graceful even in his nudity. “I don’t believe anyone has ever likened me to a biblical statue before. I seem to provoke more earthy comparisons.” He started toward the bed. “How do you feel? Are you sore?”

“No.” She was aware of a little soreness between her thighs, but she would not confess it to him. He had already discovered too many of her weaknesses. She had not thought surrender would bring this overwhelming intimacy. Why did she not admit it—she had not thought at all. She had flowed to him as helplessly as a leaf caught in a current, caring only for the ease he could give her. She sat up in bed, drawing the covers to her throat. “I’m quite well.”

“Good.” He sat down on the bed beside her. “Then we can proceed.”

Alarm shot through her. “I didn’t say that I wanted to— I’m not sure— This is not a good thing.”

“It’s a very good thing. I thought you’d be having second thoughts this morning. Dorothy has done her work too well.”

He slowly pulled the cover down to her waist, his gaze fixed on her naked breasts. “It’s always a good idea to get right back on a horse after the first lesson. Otherwise you have a tendency to lose the rhythm of the pace.”

That brought to mind the erotic tale he had spun
of the stallion and the mare, and she could feel the muscles of her stomach clench with excitement.

He noticed the response, and he looked up at her face. He said thickly, “I need you. I’ve been standing at that window for hours waiting for you to wake. Will you take me, Marianna?”

The same hot, helpless tide she had experienced last night swept over her. Why did it go on? She had hoped that once she had given in to lust, it would be over. Yet she wanted him as much in this moment as she had last night.

He bent down, his mouth hovering over her breast. “I promise I’ll reward you, if you do.”

She gasped as his warm tongue stroked her nipple. “I told you I don’t want rewards.”

He widened her legs and entered slowly, his very deliberateness tantalizing. “You want this one. First, we’ll make sure you weren’t lying to me about your soreness.” He began to stroke, thrust, gently and then a little harder. “And later we’ll go on to the second lesson … and the reward.”

She closed around him, tightening, as the spasms of need began. She began to pant, her fingers clutching the counterpane of the bed. “What are—” She broke off and arched upward as his fingers found her. She forgot what she had started to ask.

But Jordan had not forgotten. His hands reached under, gently pinching, kneading her buttocks. He bent closer until his lips were in her hair and began to whisper in her ear.

Y
ou’ve worked long enough. I’m beginning to feel grievously neglected.” Jordan leaned back in the
chair. “I’m sure you need some fresh air. Let’s go for a walk.”

He just wanted to get her away from the workroom, she thought in exasperation. “I’ve worked only a few hours in the past four days. I’m going to finish this panel.”

“What a stubborn woman you are.” He shifted restlessly. “It’s not as if you’re going to use the blasted panel. Gregor says you have a pile of discarded ones in the storeroom in the stable.”

She looked down at the tulip she was cutting. “One never knows. Beauty is never a waste of time.”

“That’s true.” He chuckled. “But I prefer active beauty to passive.” He paused. “And I particularly prefer you active.” His tone deepened, became honey-sweet. “Come here.”

“No.” She ignored the familiar heat that moved through her. “I want to finish this panel before we go to see Alex tomorrow.”

He went still. “Alex?”

She turned to look at him. “You promised me.”

“For God’s sake,” he said harshly. “You know he’s come to no harm, and you can’t pretend that’s why you’re in my bed.”

“No, that’s not why I let you—” She broke off and said wearily, “I cannot help myself. It’s like a sickness.”

His anger flared again. “By God, if it’s a sickness, it’s one you revel in.”

She couldn’t deny it. In the last four days she had existed in a haze of sensual hunger. They had come together more times in more diverse ways than she could count, and it was never enough. He had only to
look at her in a certain way or touch her casually in passing and her body readied.

And he was always touching her. She had gradually come to realize he used touch not only to arouse but to establish possession. He would lift her hand to his lips in the middle of a conversation and then go on talking as if the caress had never happened; he would knead the nape of her neck as she sat at his feet before the fire; he would brush her hair for her before they retired, talking idly, his fingers playing with the strands.

Each touch, each word, each mundane act, was drawing her closer into the web of intimacy.

He smiled, and his face lit with charm. “Pleasure isn’t a sickness, pleasure is joy,” he coaxed. “You love everything I do to you. Say it, Marianna.”

She didn’t have to make the admission. He knew very well she was completely under his spell. At first she had floated along, accepting everything, but gradually she had become aware Jordan was not equally swept away. Not that he did not want her; no question existed on that score. But there were times when she caught a glance, a watchful expression, that gave her pause. It was as if he were trying to shape her to his needs, an idea that brought both anger and fear. She knew how strong was Jordan’s will, but she would not be the mindless voluptuary he was trying to mold. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. It is what I am.” She hesitated and then said in a rush, “I want you to let me go. I’ve decided this cannot go on.”

His smile vanished. “It
will
go on.”

She turned to look at him. “How long? Until you grow tired of me?”

“I cannot imagine that circumstance.”

“I could name at least six ladies who are very familiar with that circumstance since I came to Cambaron.”

He frowned. “It’s not the same.”

“It is the same. Why do you need me? You are not a constant man. Next month you will bring another woman here and—”

“Will you be silent! For God’s sake I told you it was not the same.”

“No.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I know it’s … different somehow. But it’s a difference I cannot bear.”

“You’re not being rational. You cannot bear pleasure?”

“Not if it means … I feel smothered.”

“Nonsense.”

“You want something from me,” she went on haltingly, feeling her way. “Perhaps you have already grown bored with me. Perhaps you’re merely pretending so that I will come to trust you enough to give you the Jedalar. Is that it?”

“You know I’m not bored with you. Will you stop ranting at me?”

“How do I know? You’re a very clever man. Maybe Lady Carlisle never knew when you grew bored with her.” She drew a deep breath and then said evenly, “And I’m not ranting. I’m saying what I’m thinking. Though you’ve seen that I’ve had little capability for reasoning of late.”

The anger suddenly left his expression, and he leaned his head against the high back of the chair. “Quite true. I didn’t want you to think, only to feel. Thinking would have gotten in the way.” He added quietly, “Do you wish to wring a confession from
me? Very well. I’m weary of deceiving you anyway. It sticks in my throat. The Jedalar has nothing to do with this.” He paused. “I intend for you to belong to me.”

She gazed at him incredulously. “Belong? I’m not a slave to belong to anyone.”

“I wish you were. I’d like nothing better than to build you a lovely cage where I held the only key. The ordinary ways a man owns a woman are not to my liking. The bonds aren’t strong enough.”

She shook her head dazedly. “This is outrageous. I don’t understand you.”

“Neither do I. I learned a long time ago that it’s foolish to try to hold on to anyone. Everyone walks away eventually. It’s better to walk away first and not look back. That’s what I intended to do with you, but something happened. You touched me … and held me.” He smiled crookedly. “I assure you, I’ve been fighting it with all my strength.”

“Then let me go.”

“I can’t.” His tone was abruptly laden with frustration. “I can’t, dammit.” He drew a deep breath and then said mockingly, “So I decided I had to find a way to make you stay. It would be pleasant if you would succumb to bribery like an ordinary female, but I know you wouldn’t. However, I do have another weapon. You have a remarkably sensual nature. I suppose you’ve noticed I’ve endeavored to entice you to yield to me every time and every way I wanted you. Such submission becomes a habit that forges the strongest of chains.”

Chains. She shivered as she realized that she had nearly let it happen. How close she had been to letting him rule her life as he had her body. Would trust
have come with the dependence he had begun to instill in her? At some point would she have given him the Jedalar just to please him? The thought was frightening. “Why are you telling me this?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “My feelings for you have always been confused. Perhaps I want you to fight me before I destroy all I value in you. I found you cannot enslave without being enslaved.” His smile was sardonic, but his voice had thickened. “I have the sickness too. I cannot look at you without wanting you.”

Desire, raw, powerful, and uncompromised by any other emotion. Well, what had she expected? What else was there between them? Yet the knowledge brought unbearable pain that terrified her with its depth. She had to bring an end to this emotional chaos before it became intolerable. She must find a way not only to leave Jordan but Cambaron. “I want to see Alex.”

He shrugged. “Then you shall see him. We don’t have to go to him. I’ll send word for Gregor to bring him to Dalwynd tomorrow.”

“He’s that close?”

“Close enough.” He paused. “Put your cutting knife down.”

She shook her head. “I told you I didn’t want to go for a walk.”

“Neither do I. Come here.”

She turned to look at him.

He was no longer lounging in the chair but sitting upright. He smiled at her. “If you’re determined to leave me, it can do no harm to let me have a few last hours of pleasure. There are still many things for you to learn.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “You’ve just told me you wish to put me in a cage, and you expect me to—”

“Why not?” His long, graceful fingers moved slowly, tracing the grooves of the carving on the arms of the chair.

The chair.

“Come here, Marianna. Remember? I can’t come to you.”

He was talking about the dream, his dream, the dream that woke her in the middle of the night.

His green eyes were narrowed on her face, and his lips were heavy, sensual. Color darkened the bronze of his cheeks, and there was the faintest flare to his nostrils. “Do you want to run back to Dorothy and be like her for the rest of your life? Don’t you want to taste and feel everything there is to feel?” His hands tightened on the arms of the chair. “I
want
this, Marianna.”

She could feel his need. The air between them vibrated with it. She had become accustomed to satisfying his every desire because in doing so she satisfied her own. Her body was readying now, she realized helplessly. It made no difference that she knew what he was doing. Her heart was pounding, and she felt the familiar aching emptiness between her thighs.

“You want it,” he said. “Another memory, another pleasure. There have been so many, what’s one more time?”

He was everything that was beautiful and elegant and seductive. Satan could not have been more alluring or more persuasive when he had tempted Eve.

“Are you afraid? Why? Do you doubt your resolve?”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Then come to me.”

She slowly started toward him.

He held her gaze. “That’s right,” he whispered. “Let me have you. Let me bring you pleasure.”

She stopped before him. She could see the pulse leaping in his temple. She wanted desperately to reach out and touch him.

What was one more time?

It did not have to be a surrender. She would be leaving him soon; she must find Alex and escape from this trap that had proved so alluring. Yet surely now that she knew what she was fighting, she could be strong enough to take what she wanted and walk away from him.

“You cannot have me,” she said clearly. “I will not belong to you.”

He went still, his eyes holding hers.

“But I will take you now. Not because you want it, but because I do.”

He smiled. “A challenge? You don’t have the experience to best me in this arena. But, by all means, do try.”

The dream required she touch his lips with her fingers.

She did not. She reached out, untied the ribbon that bound his queue, and pulled it from his hair. “And if I don’t like every aspect of your dream, it will be as different as I wish it to be.”

Watchful, he said nothing.

Her fingers combed through his hair, enjoying the thick silkiness. She was trembling, and she knew he could see it. She didn’t know how long she could maintain this pose of dominance when her knees
were shaking so badly she could barely stand. She knew he wanted her. Why did he just sit there? “Well?” she said impatiently.