“Affection,” Gregor said softly. “You admire her, and where there is admiration, liking soon follows.”
“I admire Napoleon’s intelligence and military capability, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to cut out his heart.”
“It is not the same.”
“I assure you, Gregor.” He turned and lifted his glass with a reckless smile. “Of the two alternatives, I would make sure I chose the first.”
“Choose neither, and you will be better off.” He rose to his feet and lumbered toward the door. “I will see you at dinner. Think on what I’ve said.”
“If I don’t, I’m sure you’ll repeat it,” he said dryly.
“I’m sure also.” Gregor grinned over his shoulder. “But I don’t believe it will be necessary. You are a hard man, but you do not intentionally hurt the helpless. It was only needful that I point out in what direction you were wandering.”
As the door closed behind him, Jordan drained the glass and set it on the table. It was all nonsense. He would continue on the same course he had started with Marianna.
He did not lust after the chit.
He did not hold her in affection.
He was most certainly not going to let her sway him in his purpose.
To hell with Gregor’s alternatives.
He poised, ready to plunge deep.
In just a moment he would be inside, closed in her warm tightness, and this agony of need would be over.
Her blue eyes looked up at him, bold, shining, eager.
Strange, the other times he hadn’t noticed her eyes…
My God.
He woke, hard and heavy and aching, and lay there in the dark, his chest moving in and out with his labored breathing.
He rose and moved naked toward the window and threw it open, letting the night wind rush in and cool him. Lord knows, he needed cooling.
Marianna.
Marianna glanced up from the board. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“How was I looking at you?”
She frowned. “Peculiarly. Are you irritated because I’m beating you today?”
“I don’t like to lose,” he said noncommittally.
She lifted her hand to her cheek. “Do I have a smudge?”
He had been searching for a smudge, an imperfection, and had found many. Her features were fine but not classic; her eyes were too bold; her lips were well shaped but seldom smiled at him.
And she was scarcely more than a child, dammit.
He didn’t want to have this passion for a young girl who had no experience and thought life should be seen through a stained-glass window. He didn’t want to set out to bed a girl who had beaten him at chess and made him smile at his defeat.
“We all have smudges.” He looked down at the hand toying with her queen. “What is that on your palm?”
“What? Oh, a scar. You must have seen it before.”
“Not that one.” He took her hand and turned it over. Her palm was nicked with a number of scars. He touched the long white one running across the center of her palm. “This must have cut deep.”
“I work in glass. Sometimes I pay the price. I was clumsy and let a sheet slide off the table. I had to catch it before it hit the floor and broke.”
Sudden anger surged through him. This was an old scar, so the accident must have happened when she’d been a very young child. Why hadn’t they watched her, taken care of her? “It could have cut your hand in two.”
“I work in glass,” she said again. “I was never that clumsy again.”
Her pulse was leaping beneath his finger as he gently rubbed back and forth on the scar.
She swallowed. “I wish you would not do that. It feels… most strange.”
“Pain?”
“Not precisely.”
It felt like pain to him, and the discomfort was growing by the second. A child would not have answered him as she had done. She was a woman and fair game in the sport he knew so well.
Christ, he was looking for excuses to seduce her.
He dropped her hand and stood up. “It’s warm in here. We’ll finish the game tomorrow.”
She looked at him, startled. “I’m not warm.”
“I’m not only warm, I’m hot. I need a stroll on deck.” He strode toward the door. “I’ll see you at supper.”
If he distanced himself from her, then his need would go away. He had always been a self-indulgent bastard, and he was instinctively searching out qualities in Marianna that would give him an excuse to bed her.
“You look a trifle discomposed,” Gregor said as he fell into step with him on deck. “How is Marianna?”
“Not lying naked and weeping on my bunk.”
“Then it is good we had our talk.” Gregor’s brows lifted. “You must be behaving very well. It always puts you in vicious temper.”
“Did you think that bringing all of this to the surface would solve the problem?”
“No, I knew you would be pulled back and forth once you recognized what you felt for her. There was a danger, but the threat was greater the other way.”
He smiled crookedly. “Because you know my instincts are naturally to destroy?”
“No, your instincts are sound, but your habit was always to take. It’s hard to break such habits.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “But you grow better all the time.”
“Thank you,” he said with irony. “But this time don’t be surprised if habit wins out.”
“I will be surprised,” Gregor said soberly. “And disappointed.”
Jordan gazed at him with a wide mixture of emotions, foremost of which were exasperation, frustration, and affection. Gregor knew that last word from him would move Jordan when nothing else would. From the time he was a lad, when he wasn’t fighting the reins Gregor tried to put on him, he had been fighting for his approval. He loved the son of a bitch. He smiled. “You bastard.”
“Ah, you’re in better temper.” Gregor grinned. “Let us go and watch the dolphins. No one could be bad- tempered while the dolphins are jumping.”
He was watching her.
All through dinner Jordan had teased Alex, chatted idly with Gregor, but had watched her. It was most unsettling.
It was not as if Marianna was not accustomed to him looking at her. During these past two weeks over the chessboard she was sure he had memorized every feature, every nuance of expression, as she had his.
But tonight there was something… different.
At the end of the meal Jordan pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “There’s a full moon tonight, and the sky is bright. Gregor, why don’t you take Alex to the bridge and tell him about the stars?” He turned to Alex. “Gregor has a tale for every constellation in the sky. When I was a boy, he used to take me into the woods and weave his stories, but the sea is a much better tapestry.”
“Oh, could we, Gregor?” Alex asked eagerly.
Gregor stared at Jordan an instant before he nodded. “For a little while.” He turned to Marianna. “Would you like to come with us?”
“I’m sure Marianna is tired. I’ll take her to her cabin,” Jordan said. “There are things we have to discuss.”
Marianna stared at him in bewilderment. He had left her only a few hours before. If there was anything important to discuss, why had he not done it then?
Jordan turned to Marianna. “Will you come with me?”
He had said almost those same words in the church in Talenka.
He must have read her mind, because he smiled and said softly, “It hasn’t turned out too badly so far, has it?”
The persuasiveness with which he was smiling at her was irresistible. He was compelling her, willing her to
