The Beloved Scoundrel

CHAPTER 9

Dalwynd came into view just after noon of the next day. The large thatch-roofed stone hunting lodge was located beside a small lake that was covered by ice and surrounded by pine trees.

Jordan slipped from his horse as soon as they reached the stable yard and then lifted Marianna from her mare. He released her at once and strode toward the door. “Mind the ice on the step.”

His manner was careless, almost impersonal, as it had been since they had left Cambaron at dawn that morning. She slowly followed him into the lodge, entering a huge square room with several doors opening off it. A gleaming oak staircase with elaborately carved banisters and side pickets led to the upper story and a long hall that overlooked the lower parlor.

“I think you’ll be comfortable.” Jordan took off his hat and gloves and tossed them on an inlaid marquetry table just inside the door. “It’s a bit chilly in here. I’ll start a fire.”

He was treating her with the politeness he would have shown an honored guest, she realized with annoyance.

He crossed the room and knelt before the huge stone fireplace. “We’ll have no servants while we’re here. You’ll have to rely on my humble self to care for your needs. I live very simply while I’m at Dalwynd, but that should be no problem for you. You’ve always complained Cambaron was too big.”

She glanced around her at the “simple” parlor. A long table that would have seated twenty occupied the center of the room. Silver pitchers and crystal decanters gleamed on the intricately engraved sideboard resting against the far wall. Over the fireplace a tapestry in shades of greens and ivory depicted a spear-wielding Diana hunting a boar.

Jordan’s gaze followed Marianna’s to the tapestry. “My father purchased that atrocious object. He was always attracted to women who had an element of ferocity. I thought it strange because he was completely unable to match them in spirit and eventually grew to detest them.” He struck flint, and the kindling flared. “You should know I’ve arranged to have two men quartered at the stable to care for the horses and lay fires and such.” He paused. “With instructions that you not be permitted to leave the premises.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t just throw me into the dungeon at Cambaron,” Marianna said bitterly.

“I’d never be so insensitive. You appeared to have a certain apprehension about it when we first discussed it. Besides, dungeons are no longer fashionable. Hunting boxes are all the thing these days.” He rose and moved toward her. “It will be warm soon. Take off your cloak.”

She didn’t move.

“Take off your cloak,” he repeated softly as his fingers undid the button at her throat. She shivered as his thumb brushed the sensitive cord of her neck. “It’s not a barrier that can’t be overcome.” He slid the cloak off her shoulders and threw it on the wing chair by the fire. His gaze moved over the riding habit that was as loose and childlike as the rest of the clothes in her wardrobe. “And neither is that detestable garment. It’s merely annoying.”

“I intend to be as annoying as possible until you give Alex back to me.” She added in exasperation, “This is all nonsense. I don’t know what you hope to gain by bringing me here.”

“I hope to persuade you to be sensible.”

“What you deem sensible. You haven’t been able to accomplish that in the last three years.”

“Because Gregor took pity on the dove, and I found his pity a dreadfully contagious disease.” He stepped forward and untied the ribbon that bound one of her braids. “But I’m over it now. Patience and the milk of human kindness are obviously of no avail. I can’t do any worse than I- Stand still. I’ve always hated these braids.” He untied the other braid. “That’s better.” His fingers combed through her hair. “Much better. I don’t want to see it braided again while we’re here.”

The act was blatantly intimate, and her loosened hair felt heavy and sensuous as it lay against her back. He was not touching her with anything but his hands in her hair, but she could feel the heat of his body and smell the familiar scent of leather and clean linen that always clung to him. With every breath she drew she had the odd sensation he was entering her, pervading her. She hurriedly took a step back and asked, “Where am I to sleep?”

He smiled. “Wherever you wish to sleep.” A burgundy-rich sensuality colored his voice.

“Then I wish to sleep in Dorothy’s house in Dorchester.”

He shook his head. “Not possible.” He indicated the staircase. “There are four bedchambers. Choose which one you like. I usually occupy the one at the end of the hall.”

She stared at him uncertainly.

“Did you think I was going to force you? I’m sorry to rob you of your first battle, but I have no taste for rape. I’m only furnishing a setting where we’ll be close, very close. I’ll let Fate and Nature do the rest.” He nodded to a door leading off the parlor. “Your workroom. I’ve furnished it with tools and glass and paint.”

“So that I can make you a Window to Heaven?” She smiled scornfully. “What are you going to do? Stand over me with a whip?”

“Whips aren’t the thing either. I wanted you to have something to amuse you. I knew you were accustomed to working, and I thought it would please you.”

She crossed the parlor and threw open the door to reveal a low-ceilinged room with exposed oak beams. She assumed the dark green velvet drapes covered a window. The room was not at all like her workroom in the tower.

But a long table occupied the center of the room and on that table were glass and tools and paints.

Relief soared through her, alleviating a little of the tension that had plagued her since they had left Cambaron.

Salvation. She could work.

“And you, in turn, will amuse me.” He gestured to the large, thronelike high-backed chair in the far corner. “I know you were reluctant three years ago to let me watch you at your craft, but circumstances have changed.”

“Nothing has changed.” She strode over to the window and jerked back the curtains to let light pour into the room, then went to the table and examined the tools. “I’ll ignore you now, as I would have then.”

“You wouldn’t have ignored me,” he said softly. “If I hadn’t been a soft fool, you would have been in my bed before a week had passed. Perhaps that very night.”

She whirled on him. “No!”

“Yes.”

“You would have forced me?”

“No force would have been necessary.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “I’m not Lady Carlisle or that- I’m not like them.”

“No, you’re not like them. You’re far more alive, and that’s where both temptation and pleasure lie. From the beginning you’ve known what’s between us as well as I have.” He looked into her eyes. “You want me as much as I want you.”

His tone was without a hint of doubt, and his certainty sent a jab of sharp uneasiness through her. “It’s not true,” she whispered.

“It is true.” His tone roughened. “Every time I was with another woman, I wanted it to be you. Sometimes I pretended it was you. Wasn’t it the same with you? Didn’t you ever wonder what it would be like to-”

“No!”

“I think you did. Perhaps you didn’t admit it to yourself, but weren’t there moments when you woke in the middle of the night, and you would catch yourself-”

“I told you, no.” She moistened her lips. “And I suppose you think if you seduce me, I’ll be as weak as those other women and give you the Jedalar.”

“It would simplify matters enormously. Perhaps I even told myself seduction might be a tool of persuasion. Gregor would say I have a tendency to lie to myself to justify taking what I want.” He smiled crookedly. “But you would have come to my bed whether or not there was a chance of convincing you to give me the Jedalar. I couldn’t have waited any longer. It was like kindling a fire and deliberately keeping it too low to warm you. I’ve grown damned cold in the last three years.”

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

It was a lie. She didn’t want him in the way those other women did. It was true he had always exerted a fascination for her, but that didn’t mean she was-

She would not think about it.

She crossed to the window and stared out at the stable yard. Jordan was undoing the saddlebags on the packhorse, and as she watched, he turned and spoke to one of the men standing in the deep shadow of the stable. The man hurried forward to help, but Jordan waved him away. His dark hair shone in the cold winter sunlight, and his face was lit by the faint smile that was so familiar. She knew his body as well as his face, the lean, loose-limbed grace, the deceptively lazy way he moved.

But she did not know it the way Catherine Carlisle did.

She did not want to know it in that way, she thought desperately. Yet why had there been those times when she had awakened in the middle of the night with those shockingly sensual visions? How terrible that he had guessed that sinful weakness. It made her feel as if she had no place to hide.

Well, she must be stronger than she’d been in the past and distance herself from him. If she did not show him weakness, then he would see that bringing her here would gain him nothing.

You’ve been in that bedchamber all afternoon,” Jordan called through the bedroom door. “Come out and have your supper.”

“I’m not hungry. I’m going to go to bed.”

“You will eat,” he said pleasantly. “If you prefer, I’d be delighted to bring in your meal and serve it to you in bed.”

She opened the door.

She had seldom seen him garbed so informally. He was without a coat or cravat, dressed only in Hessian boots, a loose white shirt, and black buckskin breeches that clung to his hips, thighs, and calves.

“What a disappointment. I thought I was to receive an unexpected gift.” He gestured for her to proceed him. “Instead, I suppose we’ll have supper before the fire while we talk.”

“We’ve already talked. I see no reason for further discussion.”

“No, that was merely a breaking of the proverbial ice.” He followed her down the steps. “I find seduction is impossible without speech. Now, I realize what a handsome rascal I am, but it’s my eloquence that always carries the day.” He seated her at the table and sat down across from her. “I cooked this delicious repast myself. I know you’ll want to sample the results of my labors. Eat.”

She picked up the spoon, dipped it into the venison stew and tasted it. It was very good.

He was looking at her expectantly.

“It has too much salt.”

“Zounds!” He clutched his chest with both hands as if he had received a mortal blow. “An arrow in the heart.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps only in my self-love.”

Incredibly, a smile tugged at her lips before she could stifle it. She had seen that playful mockery in a hundred different situations over the years and had responded without thinking. It was clear habit was going to be an insidious enemy.

“Ah, you see.” He smiled at her. “Your situation is not so frightening. I’m still the same man. You’re merely seeing another side of me.”

“I’m not frightened.”

He ignored her protest. “You were frightened when you came to Cambaron, but now I think you have a fondness for it. To conquer fear, it’s only necessary to become familiar with the beast.”

“What an apt description,” she said coolly.

He chuckled with genuine amusement. “It is, isn’t it? Gregor claims my soul is part beast, part angel, and has been trying to shift the balance for years.” His smile faded. “He’s wrong about the angel, but I guarantee you’ll find the beast quite interesting. You have only to stroke him, and he’ll come and lay his head on your lap.”

Her gaze instinctively went to his thick dark hair, which was tied back in a queue. She had seen his hair loose about his shoulders but had never touched it. She quickly looked down at her stew. “That reminds me of a tale my father once told me about a maiden and a unicorn. When that beast put his head in the maiden’s lap”-she took a spoonful of stew-“he got his horn chopped off.”

He stared at her in astonishment and then threw back his head and laughed uproariously. “Lord, what a delight you are. It’s clear I shall have to be exceptionally careful of my ‘horn.’ ”

She flushed. “I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t spoil it by remembering all of Dorothy’s rules and strictures. For a moment you were the girl I knew on the Seastorm.”

“Dorothy’s rules were meant to keep me safe from the beasts that roam the world.”

“Touché. Hoist by my own petard.” He picked up his spoon. “I believe I’d best have nourishment before the next engagement.”

She was relieved that he had fallen silent. She was finding that the distance she had sworn to keep between them persisted in shrinking, the past blurring with the present. She had always found matching wits with him exhilarating, and there had been something darker, more exciting, in the exchange tonight.

The silence lasted until she broke it herself. She put down her spoon and said formally, “I’ve finished my meal. May I go to my room now?”

“No.” He smiled as he saw her jaw set mutinously. “You may work all day, but the hours between dark and time to retire are mine. You can talk or be silent as you wish, but you won’t leave me.” He gestured to a green and ivory patterned Chippendale wing chair beside the hearth. “However, you’ll find that chair is far more comfortable.”

It also had the advantage of being across the room from him. She jumped up from the table and quickly moved to the hearth. Then she sat down in the chair he had indicated, her spine straight, her hands clasped on her lap.

The amusement in his smile annoyed her. “This is foolishness. I can’t just sit here and look at you,” she said in exasperation.

“I realize it’s a terrible burden. But I find it infinitely pleasant looking at you.” He grimaced. “Even in that hideous garment.” He stood up and moved toward her.

She stiffened warily, but he dropped down on the hearth a few feet away and linked his hands over his knees. The movement pulled the buckskin even closer over his thighs, delineating every muscle.

She quickly shifted her attention to the fire. “I want you to tell me where you’ve taken Alex.”

“Somewhere safe.”

“You have no right to do this to-”

“I don’t wish to talk about Alex.” His voice was lazy as he leaned his chin on his knees. “I want to tell you what you can expect of me.”

“I can expect arrogance and a complete lack of humanity.”

“Oh, I’m very human. I’m not used to virgins, but I’ll try to be gentle the first time. It won’t be easy. I’ve wanted you too long.”

Heat flooded her cheeks as her gaze flew back to his face. His expression was impassive and his tone almost casual, as if the act were a forgone fact.

“After you become accustomed to me, there are things I can teach you, ways that will increase both our pleasure.” He smiled. “I was steeped in decadence from the time I was a lad, and you might as well benefit. For instance, do you know how sensitive a woman’s breasts can be? How cold and heat can bring pleasure or restraint? How a strange and different position can bring a pleasure so intense, it will cause you to cry out?”

She swallowed. “You know I don’t. I don’t wish to know such things.”

“Because you’ve never experienced them,” he said softly. “What if I told you that what you feel when you’re working is nothing in comparison, that it can be every color, every texture that you can imagine.”

“I wouldn’t believe you.”

“Then I’ll have to convince you, won’t I?” He leaned back against the stone fireplace, his lids half-closed, his lips curved with sensuality. “I’d like to show you, but you’re not ready for that yet. Instead, I’ll tell you what to expect.” His tone suddenly sharpened. “No, sit back down. If have to touch you, I won’t be able to control myself.”

He was tensed, an animal about to spring. She was suddenly aware that his outward laziness was masking a tension that held an element of violence.

She slowly sat back down in the chair.

The tension gradually ebbed out of him. He leaned back again. “I’ve imagined how we’d come together a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. I even dreamed about them. The one that nearly drove me mad involved the chair.”

She stared at him, unable to look away.

“Do you remember the cushioned chair I was going to have brought to the tower room?” He nodded toward the door across the room. “It was going to be exactly like that one in the workroom here. Big, high-backed, strongly built, with wide arms. I could see myself sitting in it, watching you as you worked, watching the way your hands moved, caressed the glass. Your hair is hanging down your back as it is now, and I want to jerk you to your knees and bury my hands in it.” His voice became hoarser. “I’m hurting, I’m in a fever to touch you. I want your hands around me, to caress me as they do the glass.” He closed his eyes. “But I can’t move. I have to sit in the chair and wait for you to come to me.”

Her breasts were lifting and falling with every breath. Dear God, she could see that scene as if it were before her.

“The wind is cold blowing in the windows, but I don’t feel it. I’m willing you to look at me. Finally, you do. You turn and you see the expression on my face and you know.

“You’re afraid, at first, but then you turn away from the table. You walk slowly across the room and stand before me. You reach and touch my mouth with your fingers.” He opened his eyes, but she knew he wasn’t seeing her, he was seeing the woman in the tower. “I can’t wait for you to take off your gown. My hands are in your hair, pulling you down on me. I’m inside you and your legs are over the arms of the chair and I hear you gasp.” His hands clenched into fists. “You’re small, but you take all of me, and your hands are on my shoulders and your nails are-”

“Stop it.” Her voice was strangled. “I won’t hear any more.”

He drew a deep, shuddering breath. It was a moment before he spoke again. He said in low voice, “I’ll be sitting in that chair tomorrow, watching you work.”

A wave of heat scorched through her. She felt as if even the tips of her fingers were burning. “I’ll pay no attention to you. I won’t even realize you’re there.”

“Then it will be exactly like my dream, won’t it?” He smiled. “And perhaps you’ll look up and see me and know I’m waiting for you.”

She shook her head and jumped to her feet. “I won’t stay here any longer. I’m going to my room.”

He nodded. “That would probably be best. I find I have even less restraint than I thought. Perhaps we’ll have a longer time together tomorrow evening.”

She moved quickly toward the stairs.

“Do you remember the legend of Scheherazade?” he called after her. “She told the caliph a tale each night for a thousand and one nights. Shall we see how many of my dreams I can recall for you?”

She didn’t answer. She felt as if she were on fire. She had to get away from him.

“Tomorrow night I believe I’ll tell you about the stallion and the mare. We’re in the south pasture watching them, and you turn to me…” He chuckled. “But that’s another story.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Not even a little bit? Admit you’re curious.”

She was curious, she realized with a sense of panic. His words held a raw power and fascination, the picture he had painted had stirred, mesmerized her and made her feel- Sweet heaven, perhaps he was right. Perhaps she was as lost to lust as he was.

She looked down at him from the landing. Catlike, sensual, he hadn’t moved from his relaxed position on the hearth. Firelight lit the planes of his lean, irregular, face, revealing strength and a beauty where there should have been no beauty.

“Pleasant dreams, Marianna,” he said softly.

The chair!

She woke gasping, her heart pounding.

Her breasts were swollen, the tips sensitive as they brushed the coverlet.

She was shaking uncontrollably, and there was a strange ache between her thighs.

Jordan sitting watching her, his hands on the wide arms of the chair.

Hunger. Heat. Emptiness.

She hadn’t really gone to him. It hadn’t happened. It had only been a dream, an erotic reflection of the story Jordan had told her.

The chair…

Your hands are shaking,” Jordan observed. He shifted in the chair and slung one leg over the arm. “Be careful you don’t cut yourself.”

“I won’t cut myself.” She glanced away from him as she carefully cut a petal-shaped piece of glass. “If you’ll stop talking and disturbing me.”

“You have circles beneath your eyes. Did you have trouble sleeping?”

“No.”

“I did. I didn’t sleep at all. I thought about you lying in your bed down the hall just a few yards away. It was most disturbing.” From the corner of her eye she saw him begin to swing his foot. “To entertain myself, I started thinking about stained glass and the interesting things you could do with it.”

“I’ve been fully aware of those things for a number of years.”

“But you haven’t explored all the possibilities. I’ll tell you what I have planned, if you like.”

“I do not like.”

“Well, it could be a little advanced for you. Later, perhaps. The stallion and the mare will be interesting enough discussion for this evening. Are you looking forward to it?”

“No.”

“I think you are. After all, satisfying your curiosity isn’t dangerous. I’m even permitting you a sense of outraged virtue by forcing you to listen to my scandalous confessions. Every woman enjoys knowing what hell she puts men through.”

“I don’t enjoy it.”

His mockery faded. “My apologies then. You’re not like other women in that respect. You have no malice.” He continued on a lighter note, “But you do have curiosity, and I shall seek earnestly to appease it.”

She didn’t answer, and he fell silent.

The air seemed too heavy to breathe.

He was watching her.

He was thinking about her.

He was waiting for her.

The chair.

Did you dream about the stallion last night?”

“No,” she lied.

“Did he mount you from behind?”

She didn’t answer.

“Was the stallion me?” he asked softly.

She turned her back on him and pretended to hold the panel up to the window to hide the color flaring in her cheeks.

“What a pretty backside you have. Small and pert and tight. It’s no wonder I have such wicked thoughts.”

“You should not have told me such terrible things,” she said desperately. “You would not say such things to Dorothy.”

“I would not say such things to anyone but you. Dorothy is a fine woman, but she’s bound by the very rules she thinks she flouts. She will never take the final step and tell those people she detests that they mean nothing to her.” He paused. “But you have an honesty and boldness she lacks, an honesty I’ve never found in another woman.”

She might be honest, but she did not feel bold. She was beginning to tremble with the strange weakness that invaded her whenever she was in the same room with him. Last night she had sat, with hands folded in that chair by the hearth, staring at him in helpless thrall as he wove that picture of lust and depravity.

And when he had let her go to her room, the dreams had come.

Her hands were shaking again. She quickly put the panel on the table before she dropped it.

“Your cheeks are flushed. Strange. I didn’t think it was particularly warm for this time of year. It even snowed last night. Do you suppose you’re coming down with a fever?”

“No.”

“One can’t be too sure.” His gaze went to the window where long, thick icicles hung from the eaves. “This evening I think I must tell you at least one interesting cure we could try when the fever comes again.”

You’re proving remarkably resistant.” Jordan’s legs were stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle. “It’s been almost a week, and neither of us has been sleeping properly.” His forefinger idly traced the design of the deep floral carving on the arm of the chair. “If we continue for another week like this, it may be quite detrimental to our health. Put an end to it, Marianna.”

His hands were beautiful, tanned, well shaped, with long, graceful fingers. Lately, she had found herself obsessed with watching his hands as they gestured or merely lay quiet on the arm of the chair.

The chair.

She wished she could forget the images it brought to mind, but they were always with her. Even if she could forget it, she thought bitterly, she now had a store of such erotic pictures. He had seen that she lived in a world where sight of the simplest object would bring memories of Jordan sitting by the fire weaving his tales of seduction.

“Why are you hesitating?” he asked softly. “You once told me that you believed as your father did that a spirit should be free. Why are you letting yourself be bound? You know what you want.”

Her breasts were swollen, her body aching. He had only to be in the same room, and the response came unbidden. God help her, she was like that mare he had described, mindless, in heat, wanting only to be mounted.

But she was not an animal.

“Why else did you come here with me?”

She whirled on him. “You know why. Alex. You forced me to come here.”

“I gave you a reason to come here.”

“No!”

“You knew Alex was not in danger.” He shook his head. “Be honest with yourself. You wanted what I wanted. The fire had been burning too long and too low for you too.” His voice thickened. “It will never end until you take what you want, Marianna.”

“It’s you who wish to take what you want.”

“Have I taken? I haven’t even touched you. I’ve merely opened the doors and let you look in and see what’s waiting for you inside.”

The doors of a room lit with all the dark, exotic colors of desire.

“Come in,” he urged softly. “You’ll like what you find.”

She shook her head.

He sighed. “I suppose it was too much to hope that even you could be that honest. Shall I give you an excuse? Come to me tonight, and in two days’ time I’ll take you to see Alex.”

She turned and looked at him. “You’ll give him back to me?”

“No, but I’ll let you assure yourself of his well-being.” He stood up and moved toward the door. “You see? You’ll be sacrificing yourself for your poor brother held by the evil duke of Cambaron. Even Dorothy could understand such a splendid act of virtue.”

He was leaving, she realized. It was the first time he had left her alone in the workroom since the second day they had come to the lodge. “Where are you going?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m going for a ride. I’m feeling a great need to expend energy, and you’re failing to cooperate. I’ll be back by dark.” He paused. “Unless you wish me to stay.”

She didn’t answer.

The next moment he was gone.

She was relieved to be without his disturbing presence, she told herself. Now she could concentrate on what was important to her. She reached out and picked up her cutting knife and then stopped.

It was too quiet.

Yet it was as if he were still in the room with her.

She slowly turned and looked at the chair.

I suppose it was too much to expect that even you would be that honest.

It will never be over until you reach out and take what you want.

I only gave you a reason for coming here.

Was it true?

She had a terrible sinking feeling she had yielded far too easily when he had told her she was to come here.

The fever of need he had built had come too quickly not to have been smoldering, waiting for a spark to ignite it.

The fascination he had exerted had held her captive for three long years, and even when she had been most annoyed with him, she had never been able to dismiss him from her mind. It was as if he had possessed her from that first moment in the church in Talenka.

She walked heavily over to the chair. She reached out and touched the smooth wood of the back.

A shudder went through her as she felt the lingering warmth from his body.

She had lied to herself.

Sweet Mary, it was true.

He did not return before dark. It was almost midnight before she heard the sound of his horse in the stable yard.

She ignored it and kept on working. From that moment of realization she had thrown herself into a maelstrom of work, trying to block it away from her, trying not to think.

“Go to bed, Marianna.”

She knew he was standing in the doorway, but she didn’t turn around. She had to close herself away from him. “Go away. I don’t want to see you.”

“It’s late. Go to bed.”

So that she could lie awake another night? “Go away.”

“And let you get so tired that you’ll be careless and have more scars on your hands tomorrow?” he asked roughly.

“It’s none of your concern.”

“No, it’s not my concern.” He was standing behind her. “It’s my obsession.” He reached around her and took the cutting knife from her hand. “Go to bed.”

The heat of his body surrounded her, and she smelled the scent of leather and horse and cold wind. She stood there, strained, unyielding.

She wanted him.

Something snapped, uncoiling within her.

She closed her eyes, and her breath released in a long sigh. She leaned back against him.

He stiffened, and she could feel the hardness of muscle and tendon. “Marianna?”

It was over. She couldn’t fight any longer.

“I don’t like this,” she whispered. “It… hurts.”

His other arm joined the first in encircling her, cradling her back against him with a strange tenderness. “Only the wanting hurts,” he said thickly in her ear. “That’s why it has to stop-the rest is beyond anything.”

“Do you promise?”

He laughed huskily. “Oh yes, I promise.” He held her for a moment more and then took a step back and began unbuttoning her gown. “I’ll promise you the world, if you want it.”

“I don’t want the world,” she said. Poor Jordan, she thought dully, he always believed that in the end he had to pay for what he wanted. How terrible to live with a cynicism that deeply ingrained.

It seemed odd to be standing here like a weary child while Jordan undressed her. She was weary, and her body had grown so accustomed to aching with need that she accepted it without question. The gown fell to the floor, and she stepped out of it. “I don’t want anything from you.”

“Turn around.”

She didn’t want to turn around. She wore only a thin chemise, and she felt suddenly shy and uncertain.

“Turn around. I want to see you.”

She slowly turned to face him.

She saw his expression.

She was no longer weary.

“You do want something from me.” His hands went to her hair, hovered, and then brushed the tresses back with a gossamer-light touch. “Come here.” He reached out and pushed the chemise down to her waist and then brought her to lean against him.

She began to tremble. Her breasts were swelling, the nipples pebble-hard as they touched the crispness of his shirt.

His hands were on her bare back, his fingers drawing sensual circles on the smooth flesh. “Lord, you’re soft.”

His hands slid down and cupped her bottom and then pulled her into the hollow of his hips.

Arousal. Stark. Rigid.

Her trembling became a long shudder of need.

“Shh. It’s all right. This is what you want.” He moved her carefully against him, letting her feel the strength of him.

He thought she was afraid. If she could have spoken through the hot mist of need, she would have told him she was beyond fear. She was aware only of what she had to have from him. Her hands clutched his shoulders, and she pressed against him. Hard.

He froze. “Gently. We have to go gently.”

After a week of tantalizing arousal she could not think of gentleness. “Do it.” Her words were muffled in his shirt. “Now.”

“I couldn’t be more in agreement.” His hand reached up between them and cupped her breast in his palm, his thumbnail flicking the taut nipple.

She arched upward with a low cry.

He slid the chemise down from her hips. “Spread your legs, Marianna.”

She obeyed without question. He had described every intimate part of her body and what pleasure he would bring to it. This was part of it… his hands on her. She held on to him, or she would have fallen as his fingers plucked gently at the hair surrounding her womanhood. She held her breath as he went lower, searching until he found the small nub.

His thumb flicked and then pressed hard.

Her eyes widened in shock. Fire and pleasure. Need.

Her breath was coming in little pants as his thumb pressed, rotated. The muscles of her stomach tensed with every motion. She moved closer, offering him more.

“You like that?” He pressed harder, his other hand holding her at the small of the back. “It’s only the start.” His fingers fell away from her. “I think we’d best hurry. Come, we’ll go upstairs to bed.”

“Here.” Her gaze was drawn to the chair.

He understood at once. “No,” he said firmly. He started to pull her toward the door.

She refused to move. “Here.”

“You’re not ready- I’d hurt you.”

“Here.”

“Dammit!” He whirled on her, his nostrils flaring. “Why are you making this so difficult? Do you think I’m used to being with virgins? It’s killing me. I’m trying to-” He broke off as he saw her expression. “You obstinate woman. You don’t know what’s good for you.”

“Here.”

“Oh, what the devil!” He pulled her down on the floor. “I told you I’d be gentle with you. I don’t like to be made a liar.”

“The chair…” she whispered.

“Later.” He pushed aside her legs and came between them. He made an adjustment in his clothing. “This will be painful enough for you. I wanted a soft bed and clean sheets and the things a woman should have when she-” He was pressing against her. He stopped and looked down at her, his chest rising and falling with every breath. “I didn’t want it to be like this.”

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.” She bit down on her lower lip. Why did he not move and stop the emptiness? She instinctively arched up against him.

“Don’t!” He moved carefully into her. “Don’t move.”

Stretched. Throbbing. Empty.

She arched against him again. More. She had more, but it still wasn’t enough.

His features were contorted above her as if he were in pain. “No,” he said between his teeth.

She was suddenly furious with him. “You’ve said yes for over a week. Now isn’t the time to say no to me. It’s not fair.”

He looked down at her with glazed eyes. “Heaven forbid I be accused of such a crime.” His hips moved back, and for a panic-filled moment she thought he was going to withdraw.

He plunged forward to the hilt.

Pain!

She cried out, her head arching back on the rug.

He stopped, his weight on her, filling her completely.

He closed his eyes. “Shall I stop?”

The pain was fading, and she was becoming accustomed to the bold clublike hardness within her. She should feel full, but spasms of sensation were shooting through her. She knew what came next. He had described it to her every night of their stay here, and she would not be robbed of it. “No.”

“Good.” His laugh had a note of desperation as his lids flicked open. “I don’t know if I could have stopped anyway.” He drew out and then plunged deep. Again. And again. And again.

Rhythm. Hunger. Fast. Slow.

His hands beneath her buttocks, lifting her to every thrust. He was making low sounds deep in his throat, primal, animal sounds that made her own excitement more intense. Her head thrashed back and forth on the floor as the need became wilder, the tension tighter.

It was growing, coming nearer. “Jordan,” she gasped. “Jordan…”

He began rotating within her, his fingers seeking out the nub he had found before.

“Up,” he said hoarsely. “Come up to me.”

She was sobbing, her hips moving upward in rhythm to the motion of his thumb, helplessly obeying every command.

“More!”

Her spine arched off the floor. She cried out as he reached her womb.

He held her there, suspended, pulsating. The sensation was indescribable. Her mouth opened to scream.

He put her legs on his shoulders and kept her there. “Come to me,” he said through his teeth. “Now.”

She moaned, unable to move, the spasms growing.

“Let it come.”

She mustn’t scream. Only animals screamed when they mated.

She could not stand it. The tension climaxed, and she convulsed.

She screamed as her her nails dug into his shoulders!

Beyond anything.

He had said it was beyond anything, and he spoke the truth.

She was only vaguely aware of him changing position, easing her, moving, still stroking deep. Was there more? She wondered hazily.

Then he went still and an instant later gave a low cry. He fell forward, his arms around her, holding her. He felt weak, in need, in her embrace. Jordan was never weak, never in need, and yet, in this moment, he needed her.

Her arms tightened fiercely about him.

Beyond anything.

May we go upstairs now?” Jordan asked as soon as his breathing steadied. He lifted his head. “You probably have bruises. This floor is damnably hard.”

She stared up at him dazedly. He was still within her; she felt as if he had been there forever, a part of her. “I… don’t think so.” Perhaps she was bruised, but it didn’t matter. It was a small price to pay for what had gone before. “It felt…” She did not go on. There were no words.

“I’m glad your first time was not a disappointment.” His lips gently brushed her forehead before he moved off her and adjusted his breeches. “But now it’s time to go to bed.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Ready?”

Her knees felt weak, and she swayed. He caught her and lifted her in his arms.

Her glance fell on the chair, and, incredibly, she felt a faint stirring.

“Oh no.” He instantly shook his head. “I’m beginning to regret telling you about that particular vision. We have to go slowly.” He left the workroom and climbed the stairs two at a time. “Everything in its time.”

She became suddenly aware of her nakedness against his fully clothed form. It gave her an uneasy feeling of vulnerability that caused a little of the dreamlike sensuality to disperse. “Where are you taking me?”

He shifted her in his arms and opened a door. “Your chamber, my lady. I thought you’d prefer it to mine.” He laid her on the bed and turned away. Only embers remained in the fireplace, and Jordan was moving about the room in darkness. “It’s easier to accept new experiences if you’re surrounded by the familiar.”

Clever, she thought drowsily, Jordan was always very clever. “I believe you’re a trifle late. I’ve already accepted the new experience.”

“Not entirely.” He was suddenly on the bed beside her, drawing her into his arms.

Solid, warm flesh. Naked flesh.

She instantly flinched away from him.

“Gently.” His hand gently stroked her hair. “You’ll grow used to me in your bed. It’s only the next step.”

“You have your own chamber,” she said stiltedly. “You need not be here with me. Dorothy says, even in marriage, gentlemen usually only pay their wives visits in order to indulge their lust or beget children.”

“I admit it’s not my custom either, but I find I want this. Indulge me.”

“I don’t wish to indulge you. It makes me feel… uncomfortable.”

“Did your father only pay visits to your mother’s bed?”

“No, but then our cottage was very small.”

“Would he have occupied a separate room if he’d had a residence as large as Cambaron?”

“No.” She was silent a moment. “But that was different. There was not only lust between them, there was true feeling.”

He kissed her temple. “And is there no feeling between us?”

“Not love,” she whispered. “You do not love me, and I do not love you. There is something… but it’s not what they had.”

“Perhaps it’s something far more interesting. I’ve noticed that given time, what people call love usually degenerates to mawkish sentiment.” His arms tightened possessively around her. “At any rate I intend to stay here with you. Become accustomed to the idea.”

He would not be dissuaded, and she was too weary to argue with him at the moment. He had said it was not his custom; perhaps it was only a whim, and he would grow bored after tonight. She tried to relax her stiff muscles.

The room was silent, the darkness comforting. She was beginning to grow drowsy again when he asked in a low voice, “Was I brutal to you?”

“What?”

“I… wanted to be gentle,” he said haltingly. “I was afraid I’d remind you of what happened to your mother.”

He meant that horrible night and the beasts who had raped and tortured Mama. Strange, she had not even connected the two acts. Her need had been so great, if there had been violence, it was she who had provoked it. “You weren’t like them.”

“Did you see it?”

“No, when the soldiers came, she made me take Alex out the back door and run to the forest. She said it was my duty to take care of him, and I mustn’t come back until after the soldiers left.” She swallowed to ease the tightness in her throat. Why was she telling him this? She didn’t want to remember that night. Yet the words kept coming, tumbling out into the darkness. “I didn’t see them, but I heard them. I stayed close because I wanted to find a way, any way, to help her. I couldn’t leave Alex. She made me promise. I had to listen… I couldn’t leave Alex.”

“Christ.”

He drew her closer, and her tears rained down on the warm flesh of his shoulder. “I kept my promise and didn’t come back until they left. They had hurt her… terribly. They thought she was dead, but she wasn’t. She didn’t die until the next morning.” She closed her eyes. “I couldn’t stay. I had promised her- I went to the priest and left a note on his doorstep to tell him what they’d done to Mama. I don’t even know where she’s buried. I asked them to bury her next to Papa. Do you suppose they did?”

“I’m sure they did.”

“I don’t guess it matters. She wasn’t there anyway. I stayed there and held her hand, but she wasn’t there anymore. She had gone somewhere else.”

“She was very brave.”

“Yes.” She was silent a moment. “I’ve never spoken about that night. It… hurts to even think of it. I don’t know why I-”

“Perhaps because it was time to make peace with it.”

“Peace?”

“Guilt. You had to choose between Alex and your mother and the promise you had given her. You loved her, you wanted to help her, and you stood by and let her die.” He said roughly, “It was a choice no one should have been forced to make, dammit. No one should carry a burden like that.”

She had never allowed herself to consider that it was guilt that kept that painful memory from healing. Yet now she could not see how she had ever been able to ignore it. “There should have been something I could do.”

“Against a troop of soldiers? You would have died, Alex would have died, and your mother would still have died. You did the only thing possible.”

“She shouldn’t have died. There should have been something I could do.”

“Hush.” His hand pressed her face into the hollow of his shoulder. “It’s done, and you have no blame. Believe me.”

She drew a shaky breath. “Why should I believe you? Are you a priest to grant me absolution?”

“A priest? Good God, you should know better than that after the last week.” He suddenly chuckled. “But after years of having Gregor try to pound the iniquities out of me and a conscience into me, I’ve become something of an expert on guilt.” His lips brushed her nose. “And you don’t have a particle.”

She didn’t quite believe him but was aware of a slight easing of the pain from the wound that had never closed. Perhaps there was some truth in what Jordan said. She had already acknowledged his cleverness, and no one could deny his experience in the infinite facets of wickedness.

“Now please have the goodness to go to sleep, and I shall do the same.” He kissed her temple. “You’ve completely exhausted me both physically and mentally. I never imagined I’d be called upon to do anything tonight but service you as a good stallion should. You never cease to surprise me, Marianna.”

And he never ceased to surprise her, she thought as she closed her eyes. Seducer, scoundrel, a man who had relentlessly undermined her will and taken her body, and yet, when she least expected it, he gave her gifts…

She was sleeping deeply, like an exhausted child.

What the devil was he doing in her bed? Jordan wondered. His decision to stay in her bed had been an impulse, and he was not given to impulses. Except in the act itself he preferred to maintain a certain distance. Yet he had cared enough to argue with her to remain here.

Jordan shifted away from her, staring into the darkness.

After three years the battle was over, and he had won. Not that there had been any doubt of the outcome. He had deliberately set out on a course of seduction, and he was too skilled not to succeed with an innocent like Marianna. She had been fighting herself as well as him, and it had only been a matter of time before she capitulated.

He had won. Why did he feel so little satisfaction?

Lust? He had wanted her again almost immediately after he had left her, but it was was not only lust.

He moved to the edge of the bed, sat up, and swung his legs to the floor. He would ignore this reluctance to leave her and go to his own room. By tomorrow he would have regained his objectivity and realize this unrest was only a temporary madness. Now that his body had been sated, his mind would be clear and he could concentrate on trying to persuade her to give him the Jedalar.

He was crossing the room toward the door when he noticed the dying embers in the fireplace. It would do no harm to lay wood on the fire so that she would not wake to a cold room. He knelt, built up the fire, and stoked the blaze until it flared brightly.

Always before, after he had succeeded with a woman, he had felt a sense of triumph and then almost immediately the stirrings of boredom and discontent. None of those emotions were present now, and he was uneasy about identifying what he was feeling.

He glanced over his shoulder at the woman in the bed.

No, not just a woman. Marianna.

He slowly stood up and moved to look down at her. Her golden hair was a silky cloud on the pillow, and her mouth was soft and vulnerable. God, he did not want this. All he had wanted was release from passion. He wanted to regard her as a woman to take or discard. He had never thought he would be caught in the trap he feared most.

Possession.