The Seduction

Chapter Seven

She had never thought her role at Rosewood would be an easy one, but neither had she expected her emotions to be so conflicted. In only a short time, both Sinclairs had managed to affect her beyond reason-Damien captivating her senses and enmeshing her in his sensual spell, and young Olivia tugging powerfully at her heart.

Her response to Damien bewildered and disturbed Vanessa most. She didn’t at all like the tender feelings he aroused in her. It was foolish in the extreme to allow herself to become emotionally drawn to him. She had to remember that her seduction was a game to him, driven by revenge, and she was his prey.

She almost wished he would end the uncertainty. For whatever reason he had given her a stay of execution, holding off the fulfillment of their bargain. But Vanessa had nearly reached the point where the prospect of sharing his bed was not as distressing as the strain of waiting for the ax to fall. She could not contemplate the sexual act with anything but dread, nor could she, in the cold light of day, bring herself to believe Damien’s supposition that she might be a passionate woman.

The sooner they consummated their brazen bargain, Vanessa reasoned, the sooner he would discover the truth about her, and the sooner he would end his tormenting pursuit. Once he saw what poor sport she was, he would tire of his game and of her, perhaps even send her packing.

Except for the threat hanging over her head, however, her life here was far more pleasurable than she had a right to hope for. It seemed especially strange not to have to constantly worry about making ends meet. For the past two years she’d spent a significant part of each day determining how best to stretch a farthing, but cost was no object to Damien when it came to his sister’s recovery. He agreed readily when Vanessa suggested bringing in a dressmaker and milliner to raise Olivia’s spirits.

Olivia refused to leave the estate for any reason, even to shop, but Vanessa believed it would be beneficial if the girl could be persuaded to take an interest in her appearance.

“But I have no need for new gowns,” Olivia protested, showing renewed evidence of a stubborn streak. “I have nowhere to wear them, since I never plan on going out again.”

“Perhaps not,” Vanessa cajoled, “but my sister Fanny believes there is nothing like a new bonnet to make one feel pretty, and you could do with a shawl or two for our visits to the garden. Besides, you will need a bathing costume for the bath your brother is constructing for you in the conservatory.”

When the milliner arrived with her wares, proffering bonnets trimmed with ribbons and bows and lace and ostrich feathers, Olivia did find two she particularly admired.

“I suppose the bonnets sold in London are more elegant than those found here in the country,” she said to Vanessa rather wistfully when they were alone again.

“Not always, although prices are more exorbitant there.”

“It must be wonderful to live in London.”

“I don’t much care for town, actually.”

“No? But there is so much to do, so much to see. Lending libraries and bookshops and museums, plays and opera performances…”

“Those are advantages, indeed, but I was thinking of the social whirl.”

“You mean balls and routs and supper parties?”

Vanessa nodded as she folded tissue paper around the lemon-colored bonnet Olivia had chosen. During the height of the Season, it was not unusual to receive a half-dozen invitations for a single evening. When she was Olivia’s age, the prospect of a ball had held excitement. But as she grew older, she’d become less enthralled with the gilded cage of London society-the emptiness, the relentless pretense, the stinging, vengeful gossip. And once her husband had begun his downward spiral into decadence and scandal, the evenings had become almost unbearable. Vanessa recalled standing stiff-faced for hours, a smile pasted on her lips, enduring the stares and darkling glances of those people who once professed to be her friends. Yet she didn’t want to encourage Olivia’s solitary leanings.

“A ball can be highly pleasurable,” she said lightly, “but after years of such affairs, they all seem to run together. Still, every young lady of means should experience a Season at least once. You should go and make up your own mind.”

Olivia looked away. “I don’t know that I ever will now.” There was a long silence while her lower lip trembled. “My former companion, Mrs. Jenkins, said I deserved what happened to me. That I was fortunate to survive as a cripple.”

“You deserved nothing of the kind!” Vanessa responded, speaking sharply to Olivia for the first time.

“I am not so certain. The fault was mine for being so foolish and wicked.”

“It isn’t foolish to fall in love. Your only mistake was in choosing the wrong man.”

“A dreadful mistake,” Olivia agreed in a whisper.

Putting down the bonnet, Vanessa moved to sit on the edge of the bed and take the girl’s hand.

Olivia looked up, tears in her blue eyes. “What did Damien tell you about my folly?”

“He said that you were a victim of a cruel wager, that you were persuaded by a scoundrel to elope.” She saw Olivia’s chin quiver but felt it was better for her to talk about her traumatic experience, to try to deal with the painful feelings of loss and betrayal, rather than to bottle them inside.

“Olivia, you are not the first young woman to be deceived by a handsome stranger,” Vanessa said gently.

“I was indeed deceived. I thought he wished to marry me. I wanted so badly to believe him when he said I was beautiful, when he said he loved me.” Her shimmering gaze grew distant. “He was so charming, so gentle, with such laughing eyes. He made me feel… special. And he loved poetry. It was so romantic… or so I thought. Until that horrible night.”

“What happened?” Vanessa prodded quietly. She had heard Aubrey’s version of events, and Damien had told her the story he’d pieced together after the accident from bystanders and servants and Olivia’s own reluctant confessions. But many of the details were still unclear.

“We had planned to travel to Gretna Green,” the girl murmured, identifying the small village across the Scottish border where eloping couples could take advantage of the permissive marriage laws, which required only a witness to make the vows legal. “I was frightfully nervous but excited all the same. I walked the entire way to the coaching inn at Alcester, not wanting to raise any alarm by taking a mount from our stables.”

“I knew something was wrong as soon as I arrived. Au… he didn’t look happy to see me. He had booked a private room, and two of his friends were there-two gentlemen I had met at a local assembly some months before. They were dreadfully foxed. I wanted to leave, but Aubrey wouldn’t come with me. He said he had changed his mind about the elopement. I remember his friends shouting with laughter, declaring that he’d fairly won the wager.”

Her cheeks colored with shame. “It was a large sum, a thousand pounds, yet I didn’t understand at first. I must have looked so stupid standing there with my bandboxes. Then his friends divulged that Aubrey had never intended to go through with the marriage, that it was all a lark. When one of them offered to take me under his protection, Aubrey got angry and demanded an apology, but I couldn’t bear to hear any more. I turned and ran out the door.

“I think when I reached the stairway I must have slipped on a riser or tripped over my bandboxes. I remember trying to catch myself… The next thing I knew, I was waking in my own room, unable to move. They said I had fallen down the stairs.”

The tears spilled over. “I never heard from him again.”

Vanessa felt tears fill her own eyes. She could have told the girl why Aubrey had apparently abandoned her after the tragic incident. Damien had seen to it that her seducer never set foot near his sister again. Yet Vanessa felt strongly that it was the wrong time to divulge her own connection to Aubrey. She was making progress with Olivia, coaxing her to give her life a chance, and another betrayal might very well put an end to their fledgling friendship.

Hearing the tale, though, Vanessa felt a fresh surge of anger. She was still horrified, still furious at her reckless, immature brother who had left this young girl a cripple, with her character in ruins. Olivia was like a delicate, untouched flower, sullied and trampled in the muck.

“So you see why,” Olivia whispered, “I can never show my face again in polite society.”

Vanessa squeezed the slender hand in sympathy. “I can see why you might think your world has ended, Olivia. But it hasn’t. You will get through it, just as I did my marriage. I was not much older than you are now when I wed and was forced to deal with scandal.”

Her own voice dropped to a murmur. “My husband… ran through his substantial fortune in less than a year and became mired in debt, yet that never stopped him from plunging into one reckless affair after another. I remember times I thought I would die of mortification. Even Roger’s end proved ignominious. He was killed in a duel over another woman. An actress.”

“How terrible for you.”

Vanessa tried to smile, but she couldn’t completely repress her bitterness. “I thought so at the time. But there was nothing for me to do but hold my head high. I learned to go on with my life, to ignore the tempests. Trust me, my dear, this scandal will pass. And the best way to deal with it is to meet it head-on. Cowering will avail you nothing.”

Olivia searched her face. “Like I have been doing here in my room?”

She nodded gently. “It is understandable that you would be reluctant to face the world, to expose yourself to savage gossip and slights, but if you shut yourself off from everyone who cares for you, you are the one who suffers.”

“Damien… says he cares for me.”

“I’m certain he does.”

“He told me he greatly regrets that he hasn’t been much of a brother to me. He asked me to give him another chance.”

“And will you?”

“Yes,” the girl replied tremulously. She wiped her eyes. “I didn’t really mean to take my resentment out on him. It’s just that I have felt so trapped here.”

“You needn’t be.”

“There are so many things I can no longer do. Until I fell, I was always quite self-sufficient, but now it takes at least two maids to help me dress, and a footman to carry me down the stairs. And I used to ride every single day, rain or shine.”

“You can still ride in a carriage, can you not? And you can certainly visit your horses. The stable master tells me they miss you greatly.”

Olivia bit her lip. “And I miss them. There are many things I have missed.”

“What else besides riding?”

“My music. I was considered rather accomplished at playing the pianoforte, but… I cannot operate the pedals now.”

“Not yet, but perhaps in time you can. And there is nothing wrong with your fingers, is there? You could keep in practice until the day comes when you can play. I know that if I do not play regularly, I get very rusty from disuse.”

Olivia nodded slowly. “I suppose I can still sing, as well.”

“Mrs. Nesbit tells me you have the voice of an angel.”

“Well, not an angel…” she returned modestly even while flushing with pleasure.

“I should love to hear you sing.”

This time when Vanessa squeezed her hand, Olivia squeezed back. “I am glad you have come,” she said with quiet fervor.

Vanessa smiled. “So am I,” she replied with complete honesty.

It was later that evening when Olivia made her first major effort to rejoin the world.

Vanessa and Damien were in the drawing room, preparing to go in to dinner, when the butler entered and cleared his throat.

“My lord, Miss Olivia has expressed a wish to join you and Lady Wyndham at table.”

Behind him Olivia appeared in the doorway, seated in her invalid chair, guided by a strapping footman. Damien rose abruptly to his feet, a look of surprise and concern on his features.

“I am quite all right,” Olivia reassured him quickly. “Vanessa tells me I should stop cowering under the covers. And since I must begin somewhere, I chose tonight. Oh dear, I fear I have shocked you again.”

Damien shot an eloquent glance at Vanessa before returning his attention to his sister. The slow smile that claimed his handsome features rivaled the sun for brilliance.

“You may shock me whenever you like, sweetheart.” He looked at the butler. “Croft, fetch a bottle of champagne, if you please. I believe this calls for a celebration.”

If Damien was surprised to have his sister join them for dinner, he was more surprised by the familial warmth that pervaded the atmosphere. When his parents had been alive, meals at Rosewood were trials of endurance-cold and formal, with icy silences punctuated occasionally by barbs and recriminations. Nothing like the cordiality that enveloped the three of them at the table that evening.

The friendly intimacy continued when they adjourned together to the music room, where they made use of the exquisite pianoforte Damien had given his sister for her sixteenth birthday-a gift he now lamented having left to his secretary to deliver.

Vanessa played while Olivia sang, and Damien watched with fondness and growing pleasure.

He hadn’t expected such remarkable progress with his sister. It seemed a stroke of genius now to have brought Vanessa here. Her breeding and education qualified her as a suitable companion, certainly, but he could have searched for years and not found anyone who could have made such an impact so quickly. In a few weeks she had persuaded Olivia to take a renewed interest in life, a task at which he had failed for months.

He was supremely grateful for her efforts, and for the warmth she had brought to his home. This evening was one of the most enjoyable times he could remember at Rosewood-and it was not yet over.

At his urging, Olivia retired early so she wouldn’t become overly fatigued by her first venture into company. Damien himself carried her upstairs and then returned to the music room to find Vanessa seated on the settee, sipping her wine.

A rare tenderness filled him as he regarded her. She looked relaxed and content, her eyes soft, dreamy, her defenses lowered.

A warning voice whispered in his head that his judgment was becoming sadly impaired and entangled in emotion, but Damien purposely ignored it, just as he pushed aside any twinges of conscience at what he was about to do. The time had finally come to attempt to penetrate her weakened armor.

Yet the possessive urges sweeping through him were more than simple carnal hunger, he knew. He felt a fierce need to hold Vanessa in his arms and teach her about desire, about passion. To unlock the unfulfilled secrets of her body and strip her of her shocking innocence. For all her familiarity with scandal, she was appallingly inexperienced in carnal matters.

How very wrong he’d been about her in that regard. It struck him, suddenly, the sacrifice she’d made for her family’s sake. It had taken considerable courage for her to agree to become his mistress when she was so averse to physical intimacy. A courage he had to admire.

Her disdain of men and sex, Damien had no doubt, stemmed from her unsavory relationship with her former husband, and he very much wanted to remedy her woeful ignorance-for her own benefit as well as his own. He wanted to free her of her fear.

“I am more grateful than you know,” he murmured, coming into the room, “for your kindness to my sister.”

Vanessa looked up with a smile. “She is deserving of kindness and easy to love.”

“You seem to enjoy her company.”

“I do, very much.”

“Then your stay here has not been so very onerous?”

She hesitated. “No, not at all.”

He read the implication in her pause: not onerous yet. Not as long as their bargain remained unfulfilled.

“Will you accompany me to the gardens?” he asked. “There is something I would like to show you.”

Her sudden wariness was reminiscent of her previous nervousness around him. “At this time of night?”

Damien kept his tone light. “Pray, don’t look as if you expect me to assault you, sweeting. I have nothing so ominous in mind, I assure you. The bath for Olivia is almost finished. I thought you might care to see it, without all the workmen present.”

Vanessa glanced at the window, whose curtains had been drawn against the darkness, and then down at her silk dinner gown. The square neckline and short, puffed sleeves would expose a wide expanse of flesh to the evening air.

“Perhaps I should fetch a wrap,” she said uncertainly.

“I think you’ll be comfortable enough without one. The conservatory is quite warm.”

“Very well…”

His eyes smiled at her as he took her arm and escorted her through the doors into the garden. The night air was cool on her bare flesh. The moon was nearly full and quite brilliant, while the stars shone like diamonds on black velvet.

She must be mad to venture into a serene, moonlit garden with such a man, Vanessa reflected, and yet a reckless pleasure filled her, a keen sense of anticipation. Perhaps she had partaken of too much wine…

“You are suddenly quiet,” Damien observed into the silence.

“I am questioning the wisdom of being here with you.”

“Would you rather inspect the conservatory on your own? I will leave you to go on alone, if you wish.”

“No, I don’t wish to go alone.”

“Come now, sweeting, I won’t have you afraid of me. If I haven’t pressed myself on you in all my visits to your bedchamber where we enjoy absolute privacy, I’m unlikely to do so here where we might be spied upon.”

“Even so, you will forgive me if I am wary of your hedonistic tendencies.”

He shook his head slowly. “It saddens me that you have such a poor opinion of my character. And to think I’ve attempted to apply my most charming manner of address with you.”

Vanessa bit back a smile, determined not to succumb to his sensual appeal, yet she had to admit she enjoyed their verbal sparring and the challenge of keeping pace with him in their game of wits. “I imagine I shall manage to resist your charm. You would do better to practice it on a more willing lady.”

“Alas, there are no others available at present. I fear you will have to suffice.”

“I doubt a single female would be able to satisfy a man of your vast appetites.”

“I think you underrate yourself.”

“And I think you overrate yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a set-down? Come, darling, I might become insulted.”

“Would it be possible to insult you sufficiently to make you give up your pursuit of me?”

The long, vaguely amused look he gave her made her heartbeat quicken. How could she allow herself to be so affected by the wicked charm in those arresting eyes?

Vanessa shivered with awareness. Whenever she was near him, she fought temptation. And there was so much of it.

“Here we are,” he murmured after a moment as they came to the end of the terraced garden.

They had reached the conservatory. When Damien held the door open for her, Vanessa hesitated to enter the dark, cavernous hothouse.

“Wait a moment, and I shall light a lamp.” He entered, and a moment later she heard the flare of a lucifer being struck.

“There… does that dispel your anxiety?”

She couldn’t say that it did. If anything her anxiety increased, for the lamp’s glow only highlighted the chiseled beauty of his face.

Her wariness increased more when she saw Damien latch the door behind them. He must have seen her response, for he said casually, “I prefer not to be disturbed, but if it will ease your mind I shall help you arm yourself.”

He moved over to a shelf where gardening tools were kept. After searching a moment, he handed her a two-foot length of pipe.

“This will make a substantial weapon. You may beat me off with it if I make untoward advances.”

His warm eyes touched by lazy sensuality, he smiled down at her, obviously not worried that he was in any immediate danger from her. Vanessa accepted the pipe with skepticism, suspecting that it, like the key to her bedchamber, was designed to engender a false sense of security.

He led her into the vast interior of the conservatory, along aisles of potted roses and exotic orchids, toward an array of lemon and lime and orange trees. The air was much warmer here, moist and fragrant with the scents of blossoms and damp earth.

Eventually they reached a pair of exquisite Chinese silk screens that had been erected for privacy. Beyond was a tiled pool, partially sunk into the ground, filled with gently swirling water.

“An existing boiler heats the water,” Damien explained, “but new pipes had to be routed.”

The pool was obviously designed for an invalid, Vanessa saw. The near end was equipped with a wide ledge approximately thigh high, while inside the pool a narrow ramp sloped downward, so that the patient could be eased into the water.

“So what think you, sweeting? Does it meet your expectations?”

She nodded honestly. “I find it quite impressive. Indeed, I am astonished.”

“Astonished that I could be creative? I do possess a few modest talents. Depraved libertines are allowed them, you know.”

“Your ability doesn’t surprise me. Just that you would put your mind and talents to such good use. Most noblemen of means have a decided lack of interest in productive accomplishments.”

He smiled gently. “Then I hope I may prove to be different from the noblemen of your acquaintance.”

He showed her an oak cabinet that held towels and blankets and dressing gowns. Then he set the lamp on a bench.

“Would you care to test the water? It is warm and quite pleasant.”

“Now?”

He gave her one of his soul-stopping smiles. “Now is an ideal time. And if you enjoy the waters, you will be in a better position to persuade my sister to make use of them.”

She couldn’t look away from his heated gaze. He was bold, shameless, compelling-and she was falling hopelessly under his spell.

Damien sat on the bench to remove his shoes and stockings and rolled up the hems of his evening breeches above the knee. When he stood, Vanessa’s eyes widened.

“Never fear, I am not undressing entirely.” His tone was light, enchantingly playful; his eyes beguiled.

Moving to the bath, he sat on the ledge and swung his legs around to immerse them in the pool, before sighing with pleasure. “Will you come and join me?”

When she hesitated, he lowered his voice to a husky murmur, as seductive as sin itself. “Take off your slippers and stockings, Vanessa. Dare to live dangerously. It is not so very wicked to go barefoot, after all.”

Vanessa felt her willpower faltering, yet she remained immobile.

His voice dropped to a caress. “Indulge me, angel-eyes, if you won’t indulge yourself.”

When still she wouldn’t respond to his persuasion, Damien shook his head sadly. “Do you know what your trouble is? You are too repressed. You refuse to let out the passionate woman inside you.”

She winced as he struck a sensitive nerve. Roger had frequently accused her of being devoid of passion, and it hurt to have this man make a similar accusation, even in jest. It hurt more to know how Damien would react when he realized she was, in truth, cold and passionless. He wouldn’t want her in his bed then.

Her chin lifted defiantly. She didn’t want him to want her. And she had given him fair warning more than once that she would make a poor choice of mistress.

Although realizing she was allowing herself to be brazenly manipulated, she did as Damien asked, removing her shoes and stockings and joining him on the ledge. He had clearly known how she would react to his prodding, for she saw the satisfaction in his devilish eyes as she sat beside him. Feeling wicked all the same, she raised her skirts a few inches and let her bare feet dangle in the water, which was deliciously warm and soothing.

He slanted her an amused glance. “You really must learn to trust me.”

“I would more readily trust a wolf.”

In mock dismay, he clasped a hand to his breast. “Ah, fair witch, you wound my decadent soul.”

“Perhaps you should ask Dr. Underhill to bandage it for you.”

Damien laughed, a low, husky sound. “I cannot fathom why you are so skittish around me. I’ve never made any truly serious attempt on your virtue.”

“No? You could have fooled me.”

“I have kissed you but once, and that was before I knew you.”

“I would not say that you know me now.”

“Ah, but I do. I’ve learned a great deal about you in the past weeks. You are kind and generous. Spirited and clever-with a rapier wit I am hard-pressed to defend myself against. And you are afraid of men.” His blithe tone had suddenly acquired a serious edge.

Vanessa bit her lip but remained silent. Why ever had she been foolish enough to divulge her secrets to him?

“You shouldn’t allow one wretched experience to mark you for life, you know.”

She looked down at her hands. She didn’t want to fear men, to dread an intimate touch. She didn’t want to be burdened by her past, by the dark memories of her marriage. But there was little hope of banishing her ugly memories.

Damien seemed to read her thoughts, for his voice dropped to a mere murmur. “I intend to make it my chief aim to help you conquer your fear.”

It made her angry to hear him suggest his pursuit of her was for her benefit. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe your interest in me is altruistic? I am not that green, I trust.”

“No. I admit, I hope to benefit as well. A beautiful woman sharing my bed is reward enough.”

She could feel him studying her, and it prompted her to ask a question that had often preyed on her mind. “I… have wondered why you haven’t required me to fulfill our agreement. Is it just to torment me, to draw out your revenge?”

“No. Of course not.” He sounded surprised.

“Then why?”

“You aren’t yet ready.”

She gazed up at him, disbelieving his answer. “How do you know?”

“Experience. Masculine intuition. The most obvious sign is your aversion to being touched.”

He raised a finger to her cheek to stroke gently. “Ah, progress. You didn’t flinch from me this time. It leads me to hope that someday I’ll hear you whispering words of sweet surrender.” His expression was warm, gentle, as his thumb traced her lower lip. “I warn you, nothing short of your complete surrender will do.”

His thumb dipped to brush the inner corner of her mouth in a blatantly sexual gesture. Vanessa’s breath caught in her throat, while a spark of fresh anger kindled inside her. For weeks now Damien had played his nerve-shredding game of cat and mouse with her, and it had reached the point of cruelty.

“If you brought me here to seduce me,” she muttered, regarding him with a baleful glare, “I wish you would hurry up and be done with it.”

He went still. “I brought you here to show you the bath,” he replied levelly. “If I intended to seduce you-” He bent his head. “-I would move closer… like this.”

His warm breath touched her cheek. Vanessa froze, waiting for the warm brush of his lips. Yet he didn’t attempt to kiss her. Instead he drew a ringer along the delicate line of her collarbone. “You really are utterly enchanting, you know.”

The heat in his voice passed through her skin, making Vanessa shiver with a keen awareness. Damien Sinclair was a dangerous devil who possessed the power to bewitch her.

His hand wandered with tantalizing slowness, leaving a fiery trail after its passing, driving her anger away. Vanessa shut her eyes, fighting the relentless urges he stirred in her, wondering how she could resist this man whose raw virility gave him sensual power over any woman he wanted.

A moment later she felt him move. To her surprise he had slipped easily from the ledge into the pool. The level was not deep, reaching just above the knees, but the water swirled around his thighs, calling attention to the swelling at the groin of his breeches. He was boldly, unmistakably aroused, Vanessa realized.

When he noted the direction of her gaze, his mouth curved wryly. “As you see, your attractions fascinate me.”

Disconcerted by his boldness, she glanced away, but he would have none of her modesty. With a languid finger beneath her chin, he made her lift her gaze.

She went still, riveted by his tender expression. His scrutiny brushed over her with an intimacy as physical as a stolen kiss.

“Will you not trust me, angel?”

She wet her lips, staring at him. She was certain he could see the thickly beating pulse in her throat.

“Let me kiss you. I promise I will stop whenever you wish.”

Mutely, Vanessa gazed up at him, desperately trying to ignore the temptation of his beautiful mouth, yet it was impossible. She wanted his kiss, his touch. It was folly to think she could escape his spell.

His hand was moving on her throat. His slow finger strokes vibrated through her, thrumming softly at her senses. She felt her resistance weaken at the enticing wickedness of his expert caress. Yet it was his gaze that held her captive. Behind the soft seduction of those warm eyes was a promise of gentleness, of passion beyond anything she could imagine.

“Sweet siren, let me…”

His dark lashes lowered. His head was bending, his beautiful mouth descending toward hers.

She sighed at the first taste of his mouth. His lips were warm and vibrant and oh so magical.

The last of her resistance fled as his palms framed her face. His tongue slid delicately into her mouth, meeting hers. At the hot sensation he aroused, she softened against him helplessly.

Responsively he deepened his kiss, smothering her with intimate tenderness and sensuality, drinking her in. It was a long, long moment before the kiss ended… but then it was only to move his lips hotly across her cheek to her ear. “You taste so sweet… like a rare wine.”

His deep, velvet voice reached out to touch her, feeding the wild recklessness that was building inside her.

Vanessa swallowed in an effort to slow her jagged breathing, yet there was a heavy ache between her thighs, a melting, heated yearning deep inside her that she was powerless to deny.

He must have known the effect he had on her, for he drew back slightly. “Surrender feels right, doesn’t it?” he whispered.

Yes, she wanted to say, but the words remained trapped in her throat.

He moved closer, bringing his body inch by inch against hers. His eyes held hers, hot and silvered, as he eased her legs open with his knee. Her breath shallowed. To her shock, Damien drew her into the water slowly, so that she rode his granite-hard thigh.

Her body remained taut and tense as his strong arm encircled her waist, pulling her in to the heat of him. Beneath her skirts, she could feel his rigid flesh pressing against her softness.

“Don’t be afraid to let yourself feel, Vanessa…”

His thigh moved against her feminine mound. A moan hovered in her throat at the erotic friction. He kept her held against his fully aroused body until bonelessly she let herself sway into him, giving in to the flare of pleasure, of desire.

Gently then, his hands swept lower to cradle the swell of her hips, and he began to rock her slowly, rhythmically, guiding her toward a dark, secret pleasure she had never in her life known before.

“Damien…”

“Hush… don’t fight it.” He began kissing her again, his tender, warm lips so incredibly beguiling.

A feverish sound escaped her throat. She was so hot. She felt weak, faint. The pleasured ache in her body was growing beyond her control. Her hips moved shamelessly, asking for something she couldn’t identify, while his lips and tongue sweetly plundered her mouth, exploring deeply.

Powerless to stop the riotous sensations he aroused in her, Vanessa strained against him, her breasts pressing against the solid wall of his chest. She needed desperately to assuage the fierce hunger that was burgeoning inside her, to satisfy her frantic craving for him.

Her heart thrumming in a wild rhythm, she gripped his arms fiercely, her fingers biting into Damien’s corded muscles as he urged her closer to the forbidding, throbbing pleasure he promised. She was writhing now, her passion at a fever pitch.

“That’s it, love… yield to it…”

The shattering, unexpected climax sent her reeling; surprise and panic captured her features as the tempest exploded in a firestorm of brilliantly colored sparks. Yet Damien only held her tighter as wave after wave of shuddering pleasure washed over her. She clung to him, shaking helplessly, surrendering to the wild assault on her senses.

With intense satisfaction Damien heard the soft cries of the irresistibly aroused woman in his arms. Each tremor burned through him with exquisite torture, reminding him of his months of celibacy, but he kept his own body rigid, fighting the painful throbbing of his erection as she crested in the sweet rage of need.

He could have taken Vanessa there and then, he reflected. She was hot… on fire for him. Her skin was feverish with erotic warmth, every flame-hot inch of her flesh ripe for the taking. And yet he hesitated-and he was not even sure why.

It baffled him that he should hold back now. It would be so simple to thrust himself between her soft thighs and ease his violent lust… And yet he felt more than lust for her. He wanted to cherish her, to claim her… but not this way… not this place. This was somehow wrong. He wanted her first time with him to be more than just a hasty physical coupling she would later regret.

With a soft oath, Damien gathered her close, holding her limp, trembling body as he struggled for control. She was as exquisitely sensual and responsive as he’d known she would be, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to fight the wrenching desire he felt for her, the tender, carnal need.

A long moment later, he drew back to survey her flushed face. She gazed up at him, startled, bewildered, her beautiful, soft doe eyes questioning.

His tone was husky and soft, yet edged with a touch of irony. “If I had meant to seduce you, sweetheart, I would have aroused you precisely like that.”

She stared up at him, her expression slightly dazed, bereft, and he cursed himself for a fool. She was trying to understand what had just happened to her, and he had made a jest of it, distancing himself from her when he should have soothed and consoled and praised.

His hard countenance softening, he smoothed an errant tendril from her cheek and fiercely reined in his hunger. “Forgive me, angel.”

“Forgive you?” she asked, her voice a shaky whisper.

“For making light of what must have been a first for you.”

“I never knew…”

“Knew what? That lovemaking could be so wildly pleasurable? That you could feel such sweet fire?”

“Yes…”

He smiled. “There is far more to passion than what you just experienced, if you will allow yourself to discover it. I would very much like to teach you, sweeting.” He bent his head, letting his hot breath caress her cheek. “I want to be the one to show you the mysteries of pleasure, Vanessa. The one to reveal all the sweet secrets between a man and a woman…”

He stopped himself. Exhaling softly, he set her gently away from him. “Perhaps I should return you to the house before my last vestige of control disappears.”

He helped her from the pool while Vanessa struggled with her own turmoil. She had virtually demanded that Damien seduce her, yet he had drawn back at the last moment.

Somehow that seemed more cruel than forcing himself on her would have been. Damien had left her unforgivably aroused, filled with an aching yearning, shaken by wonder and doubts and uncertainty.

Not speaking, she wrung out her dripping skirts and put on her stockings and slippers. It would be bad enough if she were seen with a wet gown in Lord Sin’s company, let alone barefoot.

She refused to look at him when he took her hand and the lamp and led her through the conservatory. They met no one on the return journey, by virtue of the fact that he escorted her back through the secret passage. They entered the house by way of a storage room off the rose garden, through a small door half hidden by tools.

The air inside the passage was musty but dry, yet Vanessa felt stifled. The space was so narrow it barely accommodated Damien’s shoulders, the ceiling so low he had to keep his head bent. When they had climbed a steep flight of wooden steps, Damien touched her elbow, requiring her to pause beside a sliding panel in the passage wall.

“Your bedchamber.” With a gesture of his head, he indicated the passage behind him. “This runs along the outer wall of the sitting room next to yours, beneath the window seats, and continues on to my chambers.”

Silently he opened the secret panel to her room, demonstrating how the catch worked by exerting the slightest pull.

When he turned to go, Vanessa felt a keen sense of regret. “You don’t mean to stay?” she was startled into asking.

His mouth curved in a sweet, sad smile. “I don’t trust myself.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “I want you very, very much, angel. More than you can possibly imagine. But I am willing to wait until you want me as well. When you are ready, I will not have to come to you. You will come to me.”

He left her then, taking the light with him. Almost unwillingly Vanessa entered her bedchamber and slid the panel door shut behind her.

In the darkness of her room, she wandered about, restless and unsettled, her thoughts on Damien Sinclair. Try as she might, she couldn’t forget the sensation of his body against hers, or the enchanting taste of his kiss, or the fierce explosion of pleasure he had aroused in her.

For weeks she had fought against succumbing to his powerful masculinity, but tonight she had lost the battle. Shamefully, though, she felt no remorse.

Briefly Vanessa shut her eyes. The memory of Damien’s embrace filled her with a sweet, aching longing that was totally foreign to her. He had taken her someplace she’d never been before, someplace brilliant and terrifying. She had become a stranger to herself, to the frenzy of desire that had overwhelmed her. Damien had given her a glimpse of paradise, shown her how desperately a woman could want a man. How desperately she could want.

Vanessa shook her head and shivered. How could he be so gentle yet cause such a tumult of violent emotions within her? Such passion and desire and fierce, fierce need? He was unlike any man she had ever known, a fantasy lover who could draw the very soul from a woman’s body.

Trembling at the memory, Vanessa disrobed and put on her nightdress. Mechanically she hung up her damp gown and brushed out her hair. Then she lay down on the bed, though she knew sleep wouldn’t come. The restless longing she felt would not go away.

For a long while she stared up at the canopy overhead, her breasts keenly sensitive, a hollow ache between her thighs. In the darkness, an unbidden image of Damien flowed into her mind. His sensual, chiseled features. His heated silver eyes, warm with tenderness. His beautiful, breathtaking mouth. His vibrant encircling arms that promised such rapture.

Her nerves raw with conflict, Vanessa rolled over and clutched the pillow to her body. The naked, frightening truth was that she wanted him. Wanted him to show her the mysteries of passion, as he’d promised.

She buried her face in the soft down, remembering his whispered words. When you are ready, I will not have to come to you. You will come to me.

Should she go to him?

Her heart took up a wild rhythm.

Slowly she sat up, her pulse beating in a slow painful cadence, while a knot of tension coiled in her stomach.

What would happen if she went to him?

She felt herself trembling. For an endless moment she fought a confused tangle of emotions: hope and fear, excitement and dismay, anticipation and disquiet.

What if she proved as cold and passionless as she feared? What if she did not?

In the end the decision was not really a conscious one.

As if in a dream, Vanessa slipped from her bed and lit a candle. Moving to the panel that hid the secret passageway, she found the catch and pressed.

Then, with her heart thudding in her chest, she took a deep breath and slid open the panel door.