Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,62
the world. His gaze lowering, he dabbed at her, starting at her shoulders and moving methodically downward, taking care around her necklace. The starched linen felt strange and masculine, oddly alluring. Her breasts felt taut and heavy. With every breath, she inhaled the warm, distinctive scent of him. Her fingers curled around her champagne glass, but she lacked the strength to lift it to her lips.
She told herself to be outraged by his boldness. Any other man would have offered her the use of his handkerchief while he discreetly looked in the other direction. Any other lady would have slapped Drake’s face.
Or perhaps not. Perhaps this sort of intimacy was nothing unusual between husband and wife. What exactly did wedded couples do in the privacy of the bedchamber?
Remembering that lewd statue in his office, she squeezed her eyes shut. She mustn’t think about straddling him, their naked limbs pressed together. She mustn’t wonder how he would touch her, and where. For her, marriage could never follow a conventional path. And she’d known that long before she’d met Drake Wilder.
A sudden stimulating pressure at her bosom snapped Alicia to attention. She looked down at his dark head. He was kissing her. On her breasts.
A thrill of almost frightening intensity coursed through her. She threaded her fingers into the rough silk of his hair. “Please … you can’t do this … you mustn’t.”
“Tell me you don’t like it and I’ll stop.” He flicked his tongue into the valley between her breasts. “My God. You taste of champagne and roses.”
His frank pleasure robbed her of breath. Surely he must detect the quickened beat of her heart. She pushed her hand beneath his jaw and turned his head to the side. “I don’t like it. Don’t you understand? I loathe you.”
Drake scowled at her. She wanted to retract her cruel harshness, to explain the fears that strangled her. But she said nothing.
Slowly he straightened, the silence filled by the muffled clop-clop of hooves and the rattling of the wheels. His midnight-blue eyes seemed to penetrate her innermost secrets. She wanted to look away, but feared that any concession would weaken her resolve.
“This reluctance of yours,” he bit out. “It isn’t just that ridiculous agreement. Or your distaste for my character.”
“I don’t—” She bit down on her lip, unable to fully understand why her feelings toward him had undergone a subtle softening. Then, with cool deliberation, she lifted her glass and took a swallow of champagne. “I don’t wish to discuss it,” she said loftily. “Suffice to say, it’s best you find your pleasure elsewhere.”
“Best for whom? You?” He leaned closer, crowding her into the corner, a brooding harshness in his features. His fingers pressed almost painfully into her shoulder. “Tell me, my lady. Are you in love with Hailstock?”
“Certainly not!” she blurted out. “Why would you imagine he has anything to do with us?”
“He was your fiancé.”
“He was never my fiancé. Granted, he’d asked me to marry him, but I couldn’t because…” She stopped, her throat constricting.
“Because of your mother. The wretch wanted to lock her away.” His taut expression growing more thoughtful, Drake continued to regard her, his grip easing, his fingers gently massaging her collarbone. “But you’re not telling me everything.”
Could he see the quiet torment in her heart?
Of course not. Men were dense creatures, too caught up in their own selfish pleasures to understand a woman’s deeper emotions.
“There’s nothing to tell. I’ve fulfilled our bargain, and that should suffice.” Glaring at him over the rim of her glass, she drank defiantly and then added, “You must go away and leave me alone.”
His expression took on a faint calculation. “You desire me. But you’re afraid—”
“I’m not.”
“I wonder … if you’re afraid you might bear a child who will inherit your mother’s madness.”
His shrewd perception plumbed the sorrow buried within her. She wanted to deny it, to shield her private thoughts and feelings from him. By exposing her vulnerabilities, she would be placing herself into his power.
But perhaps he should know the truth. Perhaps then he would leave her be.
Concealing the ache inside her, she regarded him with a level gaze. “All right, then, I am afraid. It would be cruel to bring such a child into the world.”
“You were ready to take that risk when first you came to me. You offered to be my mistress.”
“I had no other choice.” Then, her decision had been a matter of life or death. Gerald would have been imprisoned for his debts. She and Mama