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.

His brows lifted. “You expect something of me? But you said I couldn’t have you. I wouldn’t think of offending you by disobedience.” His head turned, and he pressed his lips to the soft skin on the inside of her forearm. “Until you give me permission.”

Heat tingled up her arm. She swallowed. “Jordan, I-”

“That’s permission enough.” He jerked her down on his lap. His lips roamed over her throat while fingers tore at the buttons on the back of her gown. His head lifted, to reveal eyes blazing with feeling. “Stand up.” He didn’t wait for her to comply but stood her on her feet. “Is this different enough for you?” He tore the gown and shift off her, and they fell in strips at her feet. He pulled her back on his lap, facing him, adjusting her legs over the wide wooden arms of the chair.

He reached beneath her, and two fingers plunged deep while he freed himself with the other hand. He stroked, rotated, stroked again.

She gasped, her fingers closing on his hair.

He bent her back, his mouth closing on her right breast, and he sucked long and hard, tonguing her nipple in rhythm to the probing of his fingers.

She bit her lower lip to keep from screaming. The sensation was indescribable. Her thighs stretched wide over the hard, smooth wood and Jordan’s fingers…

He lifted his head. “Do you belong to me?”

She was barely aware of the content of his words. She looked up at him dazedly.

His fingers left her, and he made an adjustment. He plunged deep, filling her to the quick. “Do you belong to me?” he repeated.

Her hands plucked at his shoulders. “Jordan, I can’t-”

“Do you want me to move?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

His hands pressed down on her hips, sealing her to him. He was still, his chest moving in and out with his labored breathing. “Then tell me you belong to me.”

Chains. A sudden burst of anger tore through her. “I will not.”

He did not move, and she felt the waves of lust and frustration emitting from him as a tangible force. “Damn and blast you.” He started to move, his hips rotating upward in a wild, thrusting, driving motion.

She could only hold on to his shoulders and ride the storm until the final explosion. It seemed to go on a long time. She could hear herself making little animallike cries as she took him and took him…

He buried his head on her breast, still flexing within her. She couldn’t move as shudder after shudder of release

Вы читаете The Beloved Scoundrel
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