Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,80
he would stop at nothing to have her.
She had been a pawn to his ambitions. He might have lured another nobleman into debt, then taken his sister or his daughter as payment. But by a twist of fate, he had chosen Alicia. And to her shame and chagrin, she could no longer lament what had happened.
She had decided to make the best of her marriage. She had wanted to wring a bit of happiness from a circumstance she could not change, to find some comfort in the physical. She had never meant to fall recklessly in love.
Drake lay over her, dominating her even in sleep, his arm slung beneath her breasts. He didn’t love her; he felt only lust. It served no purpose to delude herself about that. Though she felt cozy and protected in his embrace, it was all an illusion. And she knew she mustn’t lie here all morning, pining for his heart, while he slept.
Easing away, she gasped when his arm tightened, trapping her against the bed. He turned onto his side to face her, though she could barely see him. “Stay,” he mumbled, his voice raspy and deep. “It’s early yet.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“Almost.” As he idly stroked her breast, a slumberous seductiveness crept into his tone. “This was an unexpected pleasure. I expected you to be angry … about your brother.”
“I…” How could she explain the torment that still lurked inside her? How could she think while he was touching her? “I cannot like Gerald working in such a place. But you were right to say that I shouldn’t make his decisions for him. We must all make our own choices.”
“Except you,” he mused, as if too relaxed to guard his words. “You had no choice but to marry me.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m here now by choice,” she said steadily. He might not love her, but by heaven, she wouldn’t share him. “And you will have no need for any other woman. Should you stray, I might just get that knife.”
He said nothing to her bold assertion, and Alicia wished she could see more than the faint black outline of him against the shadows. Would he remember her declaration of love? But perhaps he hadn’t even heard it. Perhaps he had been too lost in passion to heed her. Another thought pierced her. Or perhaps he was accustomed to women proclaiming their love in bed.
He seemed suddenly like a stranger. She knew so little about him, and she felt the jealous need to share more than just lovemaking. To make their relationship special compared to the women in his past.
“Will you tell me about your childhood?” she asked, laying her hand on his broad chest. “I understand you were born in Scotland.”
His muscles tensed beneath her fingertips. “Fergus told you.”
“Yes.” She wouldn’t let him keep a wall between them. She would break it down, brick by brick. “He said you were born in Edinburgh, and your mother was an actress. What was her name?”
The dark silence seemed alive. She could feel the strong pulse beating in his throat. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he said, “Muira Wilder.”
“What was she like?”
“Why do you want to know?” he countered.
“You’ve met my mother. Now I’d like to know at least something about yours.”
“It was a long time ago. I’ve forgotten.” Shaping his hand around her breast, he fondled her so that she gasped with involuntary pleasure.
But Alicia wouldn’t be distracted. Seizing his wrist to still his caress, she said firmly, “Then I’ll ask Mr. MacAllister. He’ll tell me.”
She feared Drake wouldn’t answer. But he did finally, his voice flat and emotionless. “She sang like a nightingale. She baked bannocks that would melt in your mouth. And she would give her last pence to the poor.”
“But you were poor.”
“And now I’m not. Thus ends my rags-to-riches tale.”
Bracing himself on his forearms, he slid his body back and forth with slow eroticism so that springy hairs on his chest teased her breasts and his masculine flesh touched her between the legs. She clasped his lean waist and struggled to keep her mind focused. Not even for lovemaking would she relinquish this opportunity. “You were only ten years old when you came to London. Why didn’t you stay in Edinburgh?”
For a moment he paused, his big body hovering over hers. She sensed a peculiar tension emanating from him, but the darkness kept her from reading his expression. “Can’t you guess?” he taunted. “Scotsmen are notorious misers. So I came to where the