Captivated

And so Court became the villain.

And Gerard had been so enraged, he probably would have done anything to dishonor Courtifshe had been willing.

Willing. The key, the prime word. Willing. There had never been a woman so willing as she, once she comprehended the depths of her body as an instrument of pleasure.

The real point was, Court had readboth of Gerard's notes. Court had been in the arbor, listening, watching. Assuming.

'And that beast did try to kiss you' Victor added somewhat righteously.

And then getting her father to do his dirty work. 'So you tried to killhim thus the code of honor has been satisfied,' Drue finished caustically. 'And it doesn't give you one moment of pain that you allowed Gerard to get such a hold over you?'

'Oh, no… never think that. I was in absolute turmoil before Court agreed to marry you. It was the most humiliating thing, the deepest secret. And I let Gerard believe until the very last that a deal for Oak Bluffs was possible. I thought that was clever, actually. That way, Gerard had good reason not to expose my depravity. And after it was over, he still didn't want to lose you. Of course, down the line, he might well have used the fact that he had held my notes to hurt you and Court, but to what harm, after he had been paid off? The marriage was irrevocable, and the best he could hope for was that you still loved him and might consider running away. But I never thought you'd do that. Too much was at stake. So it was just a matter of time until it was completely over, and it happened sooner than I ever thought, I'll tell you.'

He was as smooth as glass, her father: everything slipped off him. Gerard was right, she thought. The cardswould get him again, and nothing, not even the possible loss of Oak Bluffs, would stop him because he had the ability to slough off what was distasteful, and focus on the pleasurable.

And what was more pleasurable than seeing his daughter married, a dynasty created, his enemy vanquished, his coffers full of money and his plantation out of debt?

For the moment.

'So you see, my dear, everything worked out just fine,' he said, as he took his leave of her.

For you, she thought.Always for him. Even when he lost, he won. And he always had someone to clean up after him.

Her. Court.

But what had Court gained? A reluctant wife whom he'd taken on at the cost of doing business with her father, even knowing that her heart belonged to another man.

And who believed it still, in spite of all evidence to the contrary. He might never again come to her, and she felt the thought of that as keenly as the cut of a blade.

No. She wasn't going to let that happen.

How did her father do it?Even when he lost, he won.

Was she not her father's daughter?

She hadn't lost yetshe was going to be married to Court forever.

She had all the time in the world.

But Court didn't make it easy. He spent all of the succeeding week at Oak Bluffs, and the nights at the St. Faubonne planter's hotel, and she knew immediately that winning him was going to take some drastic measures.

Besides, she was getting more than a little annoyed that he was avoiding her.

She needed a plan. She couldn't just continue to walk around Wildwood naked when he was already exercising that monumental control of his to shut her out.

Her nudity would not seduce him now. He was too angry to allow himself to want her.

She had to conquerhim.

And she liked that idea. It all came down to the power and control that seesawed between them.

But she was going to win now. She was going to go after him aggressively. She would be mysterious and elusiveforget all that business about his conditions and his rules. She wasn't going to do anything he wanted her to do.

Irresistible.

Scary.

What if?But she wouldn't think about that.

Very soon he would start spending his nights at home, and then the games could begin…

Slowly, at first…

He didn't give an inch.

One had to have the patience of a saint

Until the night, five days later, she heard him climbing wearily up the steps.

It was late, late, late, surely well past midnight. The heat was, as usual, oppressive, the darkness formidable.

She had been waiting so long. She had prepared so well. But she had to be sure he was sound asleep.

She waited. A half hour later, dressed in a thin muslin nightgown and carrying a candlestick, she slipped into the hallway and listened at his bedroom door.

No sound. No motion.

She eased open the door and, shielding the candle, she crept inside.

He lay sprawled on the massive bed, as if he had just dropped his clothes and fell onto the mattress naked. His breathing was deep, regular, the sleep of someone who was exhausted.

The heavy sleep of someone who might have an involuntary erotic dream. Especially someone who didn't hesitate to employ a sexual apparatus that was still suspended in the shadows.

That was a good sign, that he hadn't yet taken it down.

She set the candlestick down in the fireplace cavity so that its glow was muted, and approached the bed, unsure just yet what she would do.

She wanted to touch him everywhere. His body was so smooth in some places, and yet so rough with hair elsewhere, she just wanted to slide her hands all over him and feel the heat and texture of him.

She wanted to wake him, and mount the harness, and entice him to copulate with her. Her body swelled with anticipation. She wondered how she could wait.

She had worn a satin sash around her nightgown. She untied it and wound it around her hand. Theresix inches of silk to stimulate his insensate body. Beginning at his feet, working her way up his thighs, his tight buttocks, the intriguing crease, across his narrow waist, up his spine, tantalizing his neck, his ear, his mouth; watching him writhe as his body responded, shifting slightly to get away from the insistent tickling movement of the silk.

Lovely, lovely to have him in her control, to see his hips press mightily into the mattress as he began to become aroused.

Elusive… She trailed the silk over his buttocks again, swirling it all around, and then down his legs and finally, regretfully, away as he began stirring, dousing the candle quickly, and slithering from the room, leaving him groggy, erect, and just barely aware of the faint scent of smoke and sin.

That was the first step. The second night was even trickier. She wore an old corset that she had refurbished. She had dyed it black and hand-sewn jet beads all over the bosom. It was cut just low enough so that she could bare her breasts if she wished, and it cinched her midriff so tightly it made her hips seem more rounded and voluptuous.

Not that she was planning for him tosee her.

No, her plans were bound up in something different. Like immobilizing him.

Tricky.

She waited until there was the deepest silence permeating the house. Until the clock in the parlor struck one- thirty.

Again, she took the candle and placed it in the fireplace so that the light was diffused.

He was stretched out naked, this time on his back.

Perfect. She spent a full five minutes just looking at him. God, he was beautiful, even in repose.

But she had no time to waste looking at him.