CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HOW COULD SHE have been such a fool? To have thought for so much as a moment that she might be in love with that beast of a man! That arrogant, smug, infuriating swine!
Willie paced the width of her spacious room, arms folded across her chest, eyes burning unshed tears. Although she suspected she would weep uncontrollably at any moment. Her grandmother had said proper English women were made of sterner stuff than to cry without just cause—usually death. Willie had cried when her mother died, when her grandmother died and, of course, when George had died. She’d cried when she’d realized her father would never particularly care for her—which did feel very much like death—and she had shed a few tears when she’d discovered she was very nearly penniless. Although those were tears more of anger and outrage and betrayal than heartache. The moment she stopped pacing—the moment she stopped moving—she feared anger and outrage in potent combination with the horrible ache around her heart would rip through her and once she shed the first tear she might never be able to stop.
How could he have thought such a thing of her? Admittedly, they hadn’t known each other for long but surely it was long enough for him to know what kind of person she was. She certainly knew what kind of person he was. Or at least she’d thought she had known.
A knock sounded at the door and she considered whether or not to ignore it. She had no desire to talk to anyone at the moment. Especially anyone who might have observed her argument with Dante. Fortunately, no one could have heard them over the music and as furious as each of them was, they had somehow managed to keep fairly polite expressions on their faces. Even so, her new friends had proved surprisingly observant and perceptive.
The knock sounded again harder. Obviously whoever it was was not going to accept being ignored. Fine!
She strode to the door and flung it open. “What—”
Dante stood, hand raised to knock again, apprehension mixed with regret on his face.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing more than a few minutes,” he said in a conciliatory manner. “I thought we should talk. Or rather I should talk.”
“I think you’ve said quite enough! Go away!”
“I owe you an apology.” He shook his head. “Please, I just want to talk.”
“Well, I have no desire to talk. Not to you. Not now. Not ever.” She slammed the door, turned on her heel and stalked across the room.
There was nothing more satisfying than slamming a door in a man’s face. Not that she had ever done so before but it did seem to carry a great deal of gratification. Perhaps as much as slapping a man’s face, which she had never done either but she should have. Right there on the dance floor in front of his sister and the Americans and Val and a room full of strangers.
How dare he think a simple apology would negate the terrible things he had said. Although he hadn’t actually apologized. She hadn’t given him the chance. Nor did he deserve the chance. Still, it might be interesting to hear what he could possibly say in his defense. Perhaps she should have given him a moment after all.
And weren’t there things she wished to say, as well? Things she deserved to say. After all, she was the wounded party here. Why should she deprive herself of the opportunity to tell him exactly what she wished? And what better time than right now when it was all fresh in her mind. Without another thought, Willie flung her door open, slammed it behind her then marched down the hall to his door and knocked sharply. It was his turn to listen to what she had to say.
The door opened and Dante stared at her in surprise, his expression at once hopeful and uneasy. “Willie?”
“Were you expecting someone else?”
“I wasn’t expecting you,” he said slowly. He had taken off his coat, his collar was loose, his tie missing and his waistcoat was partially unbuttoned. Was there anything more wickedly exciting than a handsome man in disheveled formal attire?
She forced the thought from her mind and nodded. “You were right. We should talk.”
Dante continued to stare. What was wrong with the man? He acted as if he’d been struck speechless by her presence.
“May I come in or shall we talk here in the hallway?” She huffed. “What on earth is the matter with you?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head as if to clear it. “Please, come in.” He stepped aside and waved her into the room.
She swept past him and stopped short in the middle of the room. Good Lord. This was a perfectly appointed parlor decorated in soothing shades of cream and pale blue with a sofa and chairs facing a fireplace and a desk with his open valise sitting on it. Her room was charming enough but he had a suite. A door next to the desk probably led to a bedroom. “Why is it your rooms are always so much larger than mine?”
“I don’t know. But I am sorry,” he added quickly.
“This—” she gestured at their surroundings “—is not what you have to be sorry about.”
“I am aware of that. And you have my apologies for that too. I am so sorry for what I said and what I thought.” He hesitated. “You should know I had no intention of leaving your room until we had a chance to speak.”
She shrugged. “And yet you did.”
“I debated whether to pound on your door until you let me in.”
“And yet you didn’t.”
“You told me to go.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I did not want to make things worse. So I left.”
“Rather cowardly of you, don’t you think?”
“You told me to go,” he said again.
“You didn’t protest.”
“You slammed the door in my face.”
“Indeed I did,” she said in a smug manner. “It was the very least you deserved.”
“You’re right. I deserve far worse. I am terribly sorry, Willie.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You said that already.”
“I don’t think I can say it enough.”
“No, you can’t. Is that all?”
“Actually, there’s a great deal more.” He drew a deep breath. “I should—”
“Not so fast, Mr. Montague.” She was here in his far-better-than-he-deserved room to give him a piece of her mind, not to let him have his say. “I have a few things I wish to say first.”
“By all means,” he said cautiously. “Go on.”
“I intend to. First—what were you thinking? Or were you thinking at all?”
“I’m not sure I—”
“No!” She thrust out her hand to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Then you should refrain from asking me questions.”
“It was rhetorical,” she snapped.
“Actually, I don’t believe it was. A rhetorical question is one to which an answer is really not expected. It’s used to make a point, so rhetorical would be...” His voice trailed off, no doubt at the look in her eye.
“I am in no mood for a lesson in vocabulary.”
“Of course not. But you were wrong and I thought you might wish to know. But probably not,” he finished weakly. “Please continue.”
“I will!” Even so, she wasn’t entirely sure where to begin. She considered his crimes for a moment. “First of all, Lord Brookings is my friend. He is an unapologetic flirt and a great deal of fun but he is my friend. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I really think—”
“I strongly suggest, Mr. Montague, that you keep whatever thoughts you may have to yourself for the moment.”
“I simply—”
She aimed a pointed finger at him and he stopped midsentence. “Much better. As I was saying, Lord Brookings is nothing more than a friend. And, as my circle of friends is sadly diminished, I cannot afford to lose one. Nor do I wish to. Furthermore—” she paused “—he did indicate to me that he would be interested in something more between us and I informed him that was not something I would be amenable to.”
Dante started to respond but she stabbed her finger at him again and his mouth snapped shut.
“Second, I would never use one man to encourage the affection of another. And even if I were inclined to do such a thing, knowing your past experience, I would never employ you in such a manner. The fact that you thought—even for a moment—that I am the kind of person who would so callously do something of that nature is both insulting and horribly unkind.” She glared at him. “You hurt me deeply, Dante.”
Genuine remorse shone in his eyes. She’d never seen a man look quite so helpless before. It was rather endearing. And almost enough to make her relent and forgive him. Almost but not quite.
“Now, I will concede that perhaps, in the back of his mind, Lord Brookings might have thought his overly enthusiastic flirtation could benefit me by making you a bit more forthcoming with your feelings. And I will further admit, I might not have been completely unaware of his efforts but I assure you it was neither my idea nor was I complicit in it. If anything, you, by your stuffy, remote, standoffish attitude, only served to encourage his attentions.”
He took a step toward her.
“Not one more step, Mr. Montague,” she said in a hard tone. “I am not finished yet.” She drew a deep breath. “You led me to believe you harbored a certain affection for me. I confess, I was—at that time—feeling much the same about you. And you kissed me. Quite thoroughly, I might add. I have been kissed before, of course. But I have never—” she swallowed hard “—been quite as affected by a kiss. One could argue it was nothing more than a mere kiss and yet to me it felt like a great deal more. Which is why your behavior toward me these past few days has been so hurtful. It does seem to me that a man who has feelings for a woman would make some sort of attempt to win her heart.” She met his gaze coolly. “You have made no attempt whatsoever.”
He winced.
“Which leads me to wonder if something you said at Notre Dame might be noteworthy.”
He had the distinct look of a fox run to ground, not certain in which direction lay escape and in which certain doom. Although she did have to give him credit for keeping his mouth shut.
“You said you were on holiday. Is this, whatever it is between you and me, nothing more than a holiday affair? Something with no more meaning than a souvenir? Or is it something...more? Significant if you will. Important. Because I assure you, I am not the kind of woman to have amorous adventures. I never have been and apparently it is not in my nature.”
Again, he looked as if he wasn’t sure which way to go.
“Well? What’s it to be?”
“Did you want an answer?” he said carefully.
“Of course I want an answer.” She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling.
“I have no desire for a holiday liaison.” He chose his words with care, his gaze locked on hers. “I’m not a temporary sort of man. I—”
“That’s enough for now. However, it was an excellent answer. But I have more I wish to say.” In fact, she wasn’t nearly as angry at him as she had been only a few minutes ago. Perhaps the simple act of saying everything she had to say without interruption defused her ire. She would have to remember that. It did seem she was more rational now, no thanks to him. Willie clasped her hands together in front of her. “I have been giving this a great deal of thought—”
The corners of his mouth twitched as if he found that amusing. Blasted man probably realized she was not as furious as she had been.
“—in the time since I left the ballroom and I believe it all comes down to trust. Trust, Dante, is paramount between a man and a woman. I trusted my husband, in spite of all sorts of indications that I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have trusted that he was managing our affairs correctly and Lord knows there was plenty of evidence that I failed to pay any attention to. Nor should I have trusted him with my heart. I will not make that sort of mistake again. I am older and hopefully wiser. In spite of the way you make me feel, a way that quite frankly destroys any semblance of coherent thought—”
Again the corners of his lips twitched.
“I warn you, Dante,” she snapped, “if you so much as smile, I will slap your face and never forgive you!”
At once his expression became an exaggerated scowl that was every bit as annoying.
“As I was saying, I do believe, in my heart, that you are most trustworthy. The only remaining question is can you trust me?”
He nodded.
“Go on.” She huffed. “You may say whatever else you want to say now.”
“Very well.” He thought for a moment although surely she’d given him ample time to determine what he wished to say. “First of all, you have my most sincere and ardent apology. I am truly sorry, Willie. The things I said were neither accurate nor were they fair. And I should have—I do—know better.”
“Then why did you say them?”
“I’m not entirely sure. No, that’s not true.” He blew a long breath. “You’re right about trust being all important. I was not in love with Miss Pauling but I now see that I did, well, trust her. I had no reason not to. It never so much as crossed my mind that she would use me in the manner in which she did.” He paused to choose his words. “These last few days, but tonight especially, everything I had felt at the time came crashing back to me.”
Her breath caught. “You said you weren’t in love with her.”
“Make no mistake, it wasn’t heartbreak, although I suppose when one feels deceived and dishonored and humiliated it’s no doubt akin to heartbreak. But I suppose I really don’t know.”
“Because you weren’t in love with her?” Why did this seem so important?
“Because I’ve never been in love with anyone.” His gaze met hers. “Until now.”
“If you think I will forgive you simply because you now imply that you love me, you should think again.” She turned away and moved to the window, gazing out at the night and the stars vanishing into the black of the sea. His view was probably better than hers too. “You kissed me and then you treated me in a nasty, self-righteous manner. Why on earth should I forgive you?”
“You shouldn’t,” he said simply.
“I don’t intend to.”
“At least not yet.”
“Never.” It was a lie and she suspected he knew it as well as she. Good Lord, she was almost ready to forgive him now. Or perhaps she already had.
She heard him cross the room a moment before he rested his hands on the top of her arms, just below her sleeves. Heat rushed through her from his touch. No man should be allowed to have hands quite that warm.
“What are you doing?”
“I have more to say.”
“And you feel it’s necessary to say whatever it is you still wish to say with your hands on my arms?”
“Yes,” he said softly and kissed the curve where her neck met her shoulder.
She sucked in a sharp breath. He had no way of knowing how delightful that was. “Go on, then.”
“I will,” he murmured against her skin. Delicious tremors washed though her.
“No.” She cleared her throat. “I meant say what you want to say.”
“Very well.” His lips continued their sensual assault on her neck and shoulders and without thinking she tilted her head to the side. “I was indeed jealous. Every time I saw Brookings with you, my heart twisted in my chest. And tonight, seeing you in his arms...”
“You’ve had every bit as much opportunity as he to be with me.” Her voice had the most annoying breathless quality to it. But then it was remarkably hard to breathe at all.
“I know. I was a fool.” His hands on her arms tightened slightly and his mouth moved to the nape of her neck. In spite of her determination not to fall prey to his unexpectedly irresistible caresses, a tiny moan escaped her lips and her head dropped forward. “And I was afraid.”
He shifted his attention to the other side of her neck and her shoulder. She’d never realized how shockingly sensitive that particular junction of neck and shoulder really was. George had never paid any attention to it but then George had never needed to seduce her either. She was his wife after all.
“Afraid?” She swallowed hard.
“Yes.” His lips whispered against her and it was all she could do to concentrate on his words. “Afraid that this dashing, handsome friend of yours who has known you far longer than I have...”
She angled her head to allow him better access to her neck and sighed deeply. “And yet there is much to be said for dashing strangers.”
He paused and she felt his smile against her skin. “Afraid that now that he had again appeared in your life, your feelings of friendship for him might deepen.”
“I do consider him a very good friend but you, Mr. Montague...” Desire pooled deep inside her. Good Lord, she hadn’t felt like this in a very long time. “You have stolen my heart.”
“Have I?”
“It’s nothing short of larceny, plain and simple.”
“Is it?”
“You’re a thief, Mr. Montague.”
“Apparently, a terrible character flaw I was unaware of.”
“I have never been kissed on the back of my neck by a thief before.” She could barely get out the words. What was he doing to her?
“There is much to be said for larceny.”
“Or on my shoulders.”
He chuckled and obediently switched his attention.
“Now do you intend to seduce me?”
“My dear Willie.” He chuckled softly. “I believe I already am.”
How delightful. Still, a dozen conflicting emotions warred within her. Hadn’t she already decided that as a widow she could do as she pleased? And if she wanted to be with this man, in a carnal sense, there was no reason why she shouldn’t. But hadn’t she also realized it was not in her nature to indiscriminately fall into some man’s bed? Not some man, she corrected herself, this man.
“I have always intended to seduce you.”
With every caress her resolve weakened.
“And then I plan to marry you.”
She sighed, a long, leisurely release of breath. “I was afraid of that.”
“But not surprised?”
“It’s the kind of man you are.”
“Rather dull.”
Rather wonderful.
“I hadn’t planned on marriage quite yet.” She paused. It was pointless to deny her feelings or desires or that she wanted nothing more than to be with him for the rest of her days. “But I hadn’t planned on you either.”
“Then we have a great deal in common.” He turned her to face him, pulling her into his embrace. Her hands slipped around his neck. “You were the last thing I had planned on.”
His lips met hers in a kiss tender and restrained, as if he was holding himself in check. A kiss of exploration in a manner both tentative and determined. He tasted vaguely of champagne, delightful and intoxicating. His kiss deepened and his tongue dueled with hers. Anticipation tightened within her and she clung to him and drank of him and lost herself in the joining of his mouth with hers. And wanted more.
Her body pressed against his and she could feel his arousal through the layers of clothes between them. An incessant ache throbbed deep within her. He drew his lips from hers and rained kisses on the corners of her mouth and the line of her jaw. Her head fell back and he kissed her throat and neck. His mouth dropped lower and his tongue traced the line of her bodice along her breasts.
“Dante.” She could barely catch her breath. He raised his head. “I believe we have entirely too many clothes on.”
He nodded. “I was thinking exactly the same thing.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her toward the bedroom, nudging the door open with his foot.
“Good.” She stepped out of his arms and turned her back to him. “If you would be so good as to unfasten my bodice.”
“How?” Frustration rang in his voice.
“There are tiny fasteners in the seam in the middle. They’re supposed to be unnoticeable.”
“And they are,” he muttered. “Wait.” A moment later, the bodice loosened and dropped to the floor. She untied the tapes of her skirt and it slithered to join the bodice.
She turned to face him, clad now only in her corset, chemise and drawers. He had discarded his shirt and waistcoat and his trousers were loose around his hips. His shoulders were as broad as she had suspected, his chest finely chiseled with a smattering of dark hair that drifted down his abdomen to disappear beneath his waistband.
“Much better, I think.” Her heart beat faster. Dear Lord, she wanted his man. Desire swelled within her and impatience. He laid her on the bed and she grabbed him and pulled him down with her. And all restraint between them shattered.
His lips, her hands were everywhere at once in a frenzy of taste and touch. Within moments, her undergarments and his trousers had vanished and they lay naked in each other’s arms. She explored him with her hands, and her mouth. Tasted the curve of his throat and ran her fingers down the hard muscles of his chest and along the flat of his stomach and lower until her hand curled around his erection. He moaned against her neck then grabbed her hands and shifted, holding her hands stretched above her head in one of his. He toyed with her and worshipped her with his mouth and his fingers and the heat of his body inflamed hers.
He took her nipple into his mouth and sucked and teased until she moaned and writhed beneath his touch. His hand dropped lower over her stomach and lower still and her legs opened to him of their own accord. He shifted his attention to her other breast, teasing with his teeth and his tongue. His hand slipped between her legs and brushed against that core of her desire that had been without the touch of a man for far too long. Pure sensation shot through her. She cried out and her back arched upward. His fingers slid over her, wet with her own need, and she wondered if he could feel her throbbing against his touch. If he could sense that gathering of tension that spread outward from his caress. Dear Lord, she was already so very close to that exquisite explosion of release. Without warning he stopped and let go of her hands.
Not now!
“Dante!” She could barely squeak out the word. “What—”
“I want more, Willie.” He shifted to lie between her legs, pulling them over his shoulders. He glanced up at her. “I want to taste you. I want to feel you shatter against my mouth.”
She stared at him.
The first touch of his tongue nearly undid her. She twisted the bedclothes in both hands and arched upward to meet his mouth. Any semblance of rational thought—of any thought at all—vanished in the wake of his assault. His tongue toyed with her in long slow strokes of sheer bliss. He nibbled and sucked in an ever-increasing rhythm until she thrashed against him. He held her tight in an unrelenting onslaught of utter delight. It was not more than a moment or perhaps an entire lifetime but without warning release shuddered though her in waves of unrelenting pleasure.
“Good God, Dante.” She stared up at the ceiling and tried to catch her breath.
“What?”
She propped herself up on her elbows and stared down at him. “You’re not the least bit stuffy.”
He grinned in an unrepentant manner.
“Remind me to tell your sister.”
“There is much my sister doesn’t know.”
“And much we don’t need to tell her.” She laughed and lay back down, urging him upward with her legs. As delightful as that was, it wasn’t enough. “I do hope...” She reached between them and caressed his erection, large and hard and quite lovely. She ran her fingers lightly up and down his nicely impressive length and desire again pooled within her.
His eyes closed and he moaned. “Yes?”
“Well, it just seems...” It shouldn’t be at all awkward to tell a man whose appendage you had in your hand that you would really like to, well, you would really like more. “I do hope we are, well...”
“Oh God.” He nuzzled the side of her neck. “Indeed we are,” he murmured then settled between her legs, moving her hand away with his and guiding himself into her.
He moved with a deliberate, measured pace and indeed, she was rather tight. It had been a very long time. But she was as well slick with desire and he slid into her with a slow, smooth movement. Her body welcomed him and she wondered that she didn’t swoon with the sheer joy of it. He rocked against her with an ever-increasing rhythm and she met his thrusts with her own until she didn’t know where he began and she left off. Until they moved as one in tandem with each other, joined in an eternal struggle, locked in an endless dance. And her release came again—stronger and harder as if every part of her was enhanced in this unimaginable eruption of pure pleasure and sheer ecstasy. She screamed out his name and vaguely heard him groan and felt him shudder hard against her.
They collapsed exhausted in a tangle of arms and legs and blissful exhaustion. For endless moments they lay wrapped around each other, his heart beating against hers, her breath coming easier. She had the oddest desire to giggle.
“I have never had an argument with a lady before.” Dante chuckled. “It’s quite stimulating.”
“We shall have to remember that.” She grinned.
He laughed. They shifted position until she lay enfolded in his arms. She had no desire to move and could easily stay like this for hours. Someday perhaps.
Willie reluctantly sat up and gazed down at him. “I should return to my room.”
“Why?”
“Well, yours is much nicer but—” she sighed “—I would hate for anyone to discover this.”
“You’re concerned about scandal?”
“I’m concerned about setting a proper example for the girls,” she said in an overly prim manner given she was naked. And delightfully satisfied.
He propped himself up on his elbows and grinned. “The legendary Lady Bascombe is concerned about propriety?”
“Obviously you have been a bad influence on me.” She sniffed.
“Good.” He drew her into his arms. “As you’ve been an especially bad influence on me, as well.”
“Apparently, Mr. Montague.” She raised her lips to his and pressed closer against him. “There is much to be said for bad influences.”
“Indeed, Lady Bascombe.” He grabbed her and rolled over until she lay beneath him. “It might be the wisest course to, oh, embrace that bad influence.”
“Whatever did you have in mind, Mr. Montague?” It was a silly question. Evidence of his intention was fairly obvious. My, the man certainly had excellent stamina.
Dante proceeded to show her exactly what he had in mind. And continued to show her until her blood pounded in her ears, faster and harder. Until she rocked against him and urged him on. Until at last she gasped for breath and once again ripples of sheer pleasure cascaded through her. Until she felt Dante’s own tremors of relief sweep through his body and he groaned and held her tighter.
Willie giggled with the absolute delight of it and Dante chuckled, his head buried against her neck. She savored the feeling of his body entwined with hers, the exhausted delight of utter satisfaction.
And yet the pounding didn’t cease.