went on, “I realize that you…that your interest in seducing me stemmed from boredom, as we originally discussed. You clearly saw me as a challenge, in your words ‘a conquest.’ However, now you’ve succeeded, no matter how… exciting and instructive the result, given who we are, given we’re so prominent in the neighborhood, given my brothers and your sisters, let alone Sybil and Muriel, given all those things I believe we should call a halt.” Drawing in a deep breath, she met his gaze. “Neither you nor I should court the sort of scandal that would ensue should a liaison between us become common knowledge.”
Gervase stared at her, struck dumb, not by her words but by his reaction, by the storm of emotions her intention had unleashed; they clawed and raged, threatening to swamp his mind and spill from his throat.
When he said nothing, she frowned. “I take it you agree?”
No! He scowled. “We can’t talk here.” Catching her hand, he changed his hold on her horse’s bridle. “Come to the boathouse.”
She tried to hang back. “Why can’t we talk here? There’s no one about and we can see for miles.”
“And someone miles away can see us.” Thank Heaven. He tugged until she stepped forward, then towed her along.
With an irritated humph, Madeline acquiesced. Reluctantly. She’d imagined having this discussion in the castle library; after all that had transpired in the boathouse yesterday, it was the very last place she would have chosen in which to bring their liaison to an end. But…he’d thrown her off-balance. After yesterday, she’d thought he’d be crowing, at least obviously smug. Instead…he looked grim, unhappy, dissatisfied. Why?
This was not a good time for her curiosity to raise its head. It should have had enough to keep it occupied after the events-and the consequent revelations-of yesterday. But no. So she allowed him to lead her to the boathouse, tie Artur up next to his big gray, then usher her inside.
He shut the door. She turned and faced him. “Now-”
“Not here.” He gestured to the stairs. “Upstairs.”
But at that even her curiosity balked. She frowned. “There’s no reason we can’t talk here.”
“Don’t be daft. I can barely make out your face.”
She couldn’t see his clearly either, but…she lifted her chin. “This won’t take long.”
Through the dimness, he met her gaze. A moment ticked by during which he plainly weighed his response; unbidden, an image of him tossing her over his shoulder and carting her upstairs popped into her mind. She blinked, instinctively tensed.
He growled and swung away. “I won’t discuss anything while I can’t see your face.” He made for the stairs and went up them two at a time.
Slack-jawed, she stared after him. Then she set her lips. “Damn it!” Going to the stairs, she climbed them- gracefully. It would be childish to stamp.
But she was determined not to go beyond the post at the stairhead. Luckily he’d stopped just along from the newel post, leaning back against the railings above the stairs. His arms were crossed, as were his ankles; he regarded her through narrowed eyes as she halted beside him.
“Let me see if I have this right.” He pinned her with a cuttingly sharp gaze. “After yesterday, your first foray into lovemaking, you’ve decided you’ve had enough and don’t need to learn anything more-is that correct?”
She steeled herself to utter the necessary lie. “Precisely.”
His gaze grew even sharper. “Didn’t you like it? What we did on the daybed?”
Eyes narrowing, she studied him; his face gave little away, but his eyes seemed unusually stormy. She remembered he’d been strangely bothered by the, as he’d labeled it, “fast and furious” tenor of their joining. Surely he couldn’t be worried over his performance, couldn’t be feeling guilty? She might have snorted, but she knew boys-men-well. “If I said I hadn’t enjoyed it, I’d be lying-as you’re perfectly well aware. However”-looking down, she tucked her gloves into the waistband of her riding skirt-“whether I enjoyed the interlude or not has nothing to do with my decision.”
Not a complete lie; it wasn’t her enjoyment per se but what she’d finally realized that enjoyment and the quality of it meant. Falling in love with Gervase Tregarth when she knew perfectly well he wasn’t in love with her was the very definition of unwise.
“I wanted to tell you-and have you agree”-she glanced at him but he was looking down, gaze fixed on a point in front of his boots; his jaw was set; he looked decidedly mulish-“that yesterday would be a solitary incident, never to be repeated. We-I-cannot afford to undermine my position in the district, not while I remain Harry’s surrogate.”
“No.” He lowered his arms, lifted his head.
She stared into hard hazel eyes. “What do you mean, no?”
Gervase drew in a breath, and recklessly embarked on the biggest gamble of his life. “I mean: No-that’s not why you’re running away.”
Her lips set; her eyes narrowed to slits. “I am not running away.”
“Yes, you are. You found yesterday exciting, fascinating, enthralling-and you’re frightened.”
“Frightened?” Eyes widening, she spread her hands. “Of what?”
“Of yourself. Of your own passionate nature. Of your own desires.” He held her gaze relentlessly and spoke clearly, dispassionately-with just a lick of contempt. And watched her spine stiffen, watched her temper spark.
With total deliberation, he uncrossed his legs, straightened away from the railing to face her-and poured oil on her fire. “You’re afraid of what you might learn if you continue to meet with me. You’re afraid of the woman you become in my arms, a woman whole, complete-all she could be.”
Her face blanked; she seemed shocked by the words that spilled from his lips, essentially without thought. Naturally. Although he was attributing the panic and fear to her, it was his own fears he was describing.
“You’re afraid of learning more, of what you might feel once you learn it all-experience it all. All that might be between us.”
With one hand he brushed back the hair haloing her face. She tensed, but allowed him to move nearer. Surprise and incipient anger warred in her eyes; had he been in control, his usual persuasive self, he would have capitalized on her temper, prodding it until she did as he wished, but having given voice to what was swirling inside him, having drawn this close to her, the focus of his roused and abraded emotions, he was no longer thinking clearly. Could only respond to the wariness in her eyes. “Don’t be afraid.” He leaned closer, brushed his lips to her temple. “There are times in life when one has to take a chance-make a leap of faith. When we simply have to…”
When he eased back, searching, she offered, “Step off the edge of a cliff?”
His lips twisted. “Nothing quite so fatal. More like setting sail and letting the winds take us where they will.”
In convincing her, he was convincing himself.
Her eyes remained on his, searching them, searching his face. He’d drawn close enough to trap her if he wished, but with an effort he kept his arms relaxed; she had to come to him willingly for him to win her.
Again her eyes narrowed. “You’re very good with words.”
He let his lips curve. “I’m even better with actions.” He held her gaze from a distance of mere inches. “Trust me.”
Moving slowly, he fastened his hands about her waist, let his gaze lower to her lips. “Just try it and see. There’s so much more you’ve yet to learn, yet to experience-and why not with me?”
A heartbeat passed, then two. He held his breath, not daring to look into her eyes in case she saw how important her answer was to him. How much she already meant to him.
Unexpectedly she sighed, long and resigned, then moved into his arms. “All right.” She tilted her face, lifted her lips. “But this is very definitely not wise.”
He accepted her offering with alacrity, covered her lips with his; the wave of relief that flooded him nearly brought him to his knees.
She was right; this wasn’t wise. It wasn’t even merely dangerous. It was unmitigated madness, on his part certainly-possibly on hers, too; Heaven knew he would never be an easy husband, but he couldn’t draw back, couldn’t deny this madness its due.
No more than he could deny the heat that rose between them, that welled and grew and flared into flame once she was in his arms. Once she was pressed against him, her lips beneath his, her mouth surrendered, his to plunder at will, once her body, sleek and supple, was locked against his, all he could think of was appeasing that heat, feeding the madness.
