Captivated

But so much so, he wouldn't allow himself to have her?

It seemed strange to her. The easiest thing would have been for him to take her. He surely wasn't denyingher anything. Why would he deny himself?

For control. Always control. To make her give up control.

And hadn't she? She couldn't fight him. She couldn't stop him. He owned her. He hadn't forced himself on her. Not to take her, not really.

All he had done was shatter her resolve and melt her determination.

He had made her forget Gerard and he had made her want to experience that frenzied swamping pleasure again.

Control. He could control her merely by giving her that.

She wondered what it would take to makehim finally lose control.

Wouldn't that be something to savor? Court Summerville in the throes of mindless passion. Court, helpless in her hands, the way she had been in his.

She squirmed, visualizing it, and a dart of pleasure pierced her straight to her vitals.

No! NO!

What was she thinking?! There could be nothing between her and Court. He had married her to seed a dynasty, nothing more, nothing less.

Why couldn't she remember that? Why did he have to play with her, like a cat with a mouse?

Control.

Always back to that. Control. Power.

She rolled over onto her belly.She wanted some of that power.

Back to that. Back to the games.

How could she make him give in to her?

She turned over again as the rough texture of the mattress ticking irritated her breasts.

What would make Court Summerville capitulate to her…?

'Mistress…' Evie's soft voice from the door.

She levered herself up on her elbows as Evie entered the room.

'It is growing late, mistress. Perhaps you did not notice. Master send this for you to wear, and he say you come when you have dressed yourself.'

She held out a small porcelain box. 'This is for you, mistress.'

Drue took it reluctantly.More games. More control. She bit her lip as she lifted the gold-rimmed lid.

Inside were two whisper-thin gold loops, the ends of which supported two tiny dangling gold ovals.

She looked up at Evie.

Evie's face was impassive. 'Master say you wear his gift.'

'Let him put it on me,' she muttered, snapping the lid closed.More games. Her hands were shaking at the thought of where this gift was meant to be worn.

'I will put,' Evie said, taking a step toward her.

She recoiled. 'No!'

'You must do.' Evie's tone was adamant.

And what could Evie do? She was at Court's mercy as well.

She looked down at her breasts, at her taut nipples that almost seemed to be begging for his gift.

She opened the box again, and lifted one loop and slipped it over the tight peak of her right breast. Her breath caught as she felt it settle, and then, she could barely feel it at all. What she felt was theknowledge it was there, encircling, confining, defining,exciting her, her body, her imagination, just as he intended, damn himher nipples hard and tight and dressed inhis gift of gold…

'Yes.' Evie nodded. 'Mistress is quite beautiful. Just how Master intended. You come now.'

Drue swung her legs off the bed. She didn't want to go anywhere, but Evie waited. And Court.

She found herself holding her body straighter, tauter, as she followed Evie into the hall, her back arched to balance the delicate loops on her nipples. She could feel the dangle of the ovals as she walked, saw the flickering candlelight glint off the thin, fragile gold. Understood that those loops bound her as surely and tightly as had the thrall collar.

For one heart-stopping moment, she considered bolting down the steps, naked as she was, to freedom. But then she saw Louisa in the shadows, a step or two below, waiting, watching, her keeper in this house of sensual secrets.

Everywhere, control.

She had to get some control.

Evie knocked on the door of the bedroom next to the one she had been occupying.

'Come.' His voice was rough, so rough, as if he couldn't contain himself at the thought of her wearing his gift.

Good.

Now shehad it.

Power. Control.

Come…

'Don't move.' There was raw note in the timbre of his voice.

The door closed behind her, the ever-efficient Evie sending her to her fate.

It was in his dark, flaming gaze, and in the heat and emotion that suffused the room. He burned with it, the telling part of his body, clothed as it always was, already erect and stiff as a poker.

She couldn't take her eyes off him. He radiated animal musk and pure male desire. He meant to have her tonight. No more games. No more denial. For whatever reason, he had decided, and with his gift, he had made clear his determination.

And if she hadn't understood by that erotic gesture, she perceived it clearly the moment she entered the room: suspended from the ceiling was an apparatus that was obviously meant to facilitate his full-bore possession of her.

No pretty flourishes. No gentle words. No caresses.

Just a harness suspended from an iron bar from the ceiling: two padded leather nooses joined by a narrow strip that would support her bottom when she thrust her legs through the openings and presented herself to him, open and ready for anything he wanted to do.

As he had been schooling her.

Asshe'd been begging him.

But not like this notlike this…

Still, there was something about the idea of it that was subversively arousing. As if there were a way here for her to exert control. That if she climbed into that apparatus and allowed herself to be displayed and penetrated, she would force him to prostrate himself to hersex.

Because then he would not refuse her.

And he could not deny himself.

Power.

Yesssssss…

The lamplight shimmered on the golden loops as she straightened her shoulders. What wouldn't a woman do to gain power? His glittering eyes were transfixed by the loops, and the way they dangled so enticingly from her nipples.

Good.

Power.

She was beginning to understanda little. His male part flexed insistently.Yes. That, too

She wondered… She turned so that her breasts were outlined against the lamplight, and the hard points of her nipples were fully defined. She heard the sharp hiss of his breath. Felt the heat and desire rolling through the room