that she was married.
She might well have to use every weapon at hand: the way she dressed, what she said, and how much she would admit about how far she had gone…
The thrall collar hung on a hook in the armoire. She took it down thoughtfully.
She stepped through the straps and pulled them up slowly. Under the right dress, it wouldn't show. And it would keep her on course, reminding her that Court owned her body, and that she was his
She fastened the collar around her throat, her heart pounding with a kind of heady fusion of fear and arousal.
She found a muslin dress with a high pleated collar and short, puffed sleeves that she could wear with one crinoline. The skirt looked deflated, and the hem dragged on the ground, but that was of small consequence to the purpose. It concealed the collar and her rising excitement. She wore nothing else beneath the dress but a pair of kid boots that would do for a moonlight walk, and she was ready.
And she was hot, suffocating with the brazenness of what she was about to do. Thank God Court wasn't home.
This was so risky. Court would kill her if he found out. He'd kill Gerard.
Stupid. She shouldn't even go.
Let Gerard hang. If she didn't show up, he would have to understand that this was the end of their… friendship.
Oh, damn, oh, damn. She didn't want to ever see Gerard Lenoir again.
What would it take? An investment of twenty minutes, perhaps, to tell him clearly that he could not entertain any fantasy that she would leave Court and come to him.
Twenty minutes, maybe less, to impart her message to Gerard and get back to the house. Court would never have to know.
The moon, so bright it was as though she were carrying a torch, lighted her way through the trees, down the rear carriage drive, past the
No, not lovers. They'd never been lovers, she and Gerard. They'd been dreamers. And every conversation, every plan they formulated had been the insupportable fantasy of two lonely souls looking for escape.
That was the unpalatable reality she had to tell him, along with the fact that she reveled in her death-do-us- part coupling with the domineering and possessive Court Summerville.
Hard truths he would not want to hear.
But he had promised, if she met him, he would go away.
Her heart started pounding as she skirted the vegetable gardens and paused at the entrance to the arbor. It was laid out between the gardens and the stables and there were a half dozen paths to enter it on three sides, and it was so dark within, the moonlight just filtering through the vines.
Somewhere in there, Gerard waited.
She called to him softly; there was only a thick silence and the hoot of an owl in response.
Something grabbed her and she shrieked; a hand clamped over her mouth and a hard male body pulled her under the cover and fecund smell of the leaves and vines.
'Shhh…'
He spoke in a whisper, hissing in her ear, 'Can I let you go?'
She nodded, and he relinquished his grip on her mouth.
'You came.'
'Let go of me.'
'I can't. I
He ignored her. She couldn't believe it. He just chose not to hear the words with which she committed herself to Court.
'My darling, you can change it. You can change anything. Remember what we said, what we promised. It's not too late'
'But it is. It's too late, Gerard.'
He stiffened. 'What do you mean?'
'I mean what you think I mean.'
His arm loosened. 'No. No. You promised he would never lay a hand on you.'
'He forced you.' Gerard moved away from her. 'I'll kill him.'
He wheeled on her, and she was glad she couldn't see his face. 'I'll kill you. I won't let him have you.'
'It's too late.' She moved closer to him, in a combative stance.
He didn't want to hear her. He took a step back. 'All right, all right.'
'He took me,' she said inexorably. 'He took away my clothes; he forced me to be naked. And then he did things to my naked body that I liked. That I begged him to do…'
'No!' She could feel the force of his fury. He had lost her, lost control. Gerard did not like anything to be out of his control, especially her.
'No. No. No.' As if his denial would make it true. 'You didn't. You… didn'tyou couldn't… Let's say… let's… just say there were circumstances over which you had no control. Let's say his baser nature got the better of him'
Explosive now; he radiated pure volcanic rage as he grasped her with a violence he could barely contain and shook her.
'Or yours…' he ground out. 'You could have been
'I belong to him. He bought me, remember? He paid for anything he did to me…'
'Noooo… o-o-o-o-o…' he moaned, and she went on relentlessly, 'And I let him, Gerard. After the first penetration, I begged him to. I spread my legs for him willingly. I wear his thrall collar. I let him restrain me so he can do whatever he wants to me.'
'You bitch, you bitch, you bitch… You swore you'd save it for me…'
'I didn't,' she said brutally. 'It wasn't real, what we said, what we thought we had. But he's a
'Bitchbitchbitchbitch… I could have taken you at any time… I could have forced you… I could take you now…'
'Keep your promise, Gerard… kiss me good-bye and leave me, as you swore in your note.'
'Ohhh, I'll kiss you, you bitch. I'll kill you before I let him fuck you again…'
He grabbed her and forced his mouth on hers, his body against hers.
He was wet, hard, furious, powerful.
He was not Court.
She went limp in his arms and prepared for the worst.