Lessons of Desire (9 page)

The sleeves slid down her arms and the bodice sagged at her hips. He reached for the shoulders of her chemise. Her breath caught. Her breasts tightened even more in expectation of another slow and delicious unveiling.

Instead he stunned her anew, throwing her off the fragile grasp on sense that was forming. He did not unveil carefully. He yanked the chemise down her arms. It was not an impatient or even passionate move, but one that asserted the rights of the conqueror.

Rebellion stirred in her soul but it could find no anchor in the rushing tide of pleasure submerging her. The way he gazed at her nakedness absorbed her attention so much she did not move to free her arms from the chemise that still restrained them.

It is just a game, this dance of dominance and submission. It will mean nothing. I will cede nothing in truth.

But—

Fingertips stroked. Palms glossed. She looked down as his fine male hands moved over her breasts, teasing and arousing so perfectly. Sweet madness filled her head and she drifted in luscious, building pleasure. Her last hold on control frayed quickly. She wanted it to break. She wanted him to vanquish the tiny last bit of resistance trying to ruin her bliss.

His arm embraced her again, arching her back. He kissed down her neck and chest in a hot trail that left her gasping. His teeth and mouth played at her nipple, torturing her with sensations that trickled low and deep and had her body begging and low moans sighing.

She tried to release one arm, to embrace him and hold him to her, to steady herself and feel him.

"No," he muttered. "Stay like that."

The sensual storm in her head wanted to obey. The pleasure was too exquisite to slop. Her body hungered for more, for completion, for the relieving fullness. Stopping now was impossible, unnatural.

And yet—

She peered through her oblivion with one eye of rational sense. Despite a pleasure so intense that it almost pained her, she noted her subtle bondage, and his assumptions since that first kiss.

Somehow the slave shed her chains. Already aching with regret and frustration, she found her voice.

"You must stop now. I want you to slop."

He stilled. For a few horrible moments he did not move. Then he straightened and looked down al her.

His arm pulled her closer, lighter. His other hand cupped her face as he had for the first kiss. His fingertips pressed, not hurting but not gently either.

"And if I do not stop?'

Since most of her wished he would not, it was not truly a threat. But his assumption that she would capitulate if he continued, that she was weak to his power, gave her back some spine.

"You will," she said.

"You trust my honor so much?"

"I trust your pride. A woman importuned will never
beg
?

He released her and stepped away. Every tiling in his aura and face said he might grab her again still.

She quickly pulled up her dress to cover herself. She strode to her door her heart pounded and her body still responded to the danger with shocking excitement.

"I will not stop the next time. Phaedra."

She stepped over her threshold before she replied. "I do not think there will be a next time."

'There will be."

She grasped the edge of the doors and began to close them. "If so, it will not be a seduction. I will choose to let it happen before the first kiss, or there will be no kiss at all."

He was still out there. She wanted to open her door to the cool night air, but she dared not. He would misunderstand.

Would he be so bold as to enter anyway? She sat on her bed, her arms wrapping her knees, half-dreading and half-hoping the door would swing wide and he would be there.

She did not feel as composed as she had acted when she closed the doors. Her arousal would not die. Her body remained sensitive to the air.

She did not know when she made the choice to stop him. It had been instinctive. Intuition had interfered. I want you begging.

There could be no friendship with this man. He wanted her weak and besotted so he could influence her. He had sought her out in Naples for a reason, after all. One of her friends could not, would not, demand she excise those passages from the memoirs. But a man who vanquished and ravished, a lover who seduced, would not hesitate to use the power that passion gave him.

All of which was a damned pity, because she really wanted him.

She had never desired a man quite this way before. There was nothing comfortable about it. Nothing safe. This was not the attraction she had experienced with her friends, no meeting of the minds that happened to allow for other intimacies as well.

Instead his sensual sorcery provoked chaos and mystery and breath-choking awe. He knew it too. He knew his mere presence cast a spell.

Her arousal slowly calmed to a low inner hum, the same physical buzz that she had endured for days now. Silence finally settled on the balcony and in the chamber next door. She unwound her body and lay down, curled up on her side, still watching the doors.

Is this what had happened to Artemis? After years of comfortable friendship with Richard Drury had some man come along who did not play by Artemis s rules?

It had been such a shock to learn that her mother had been unfaithful to her father. Believing in free love did not mean one had to reject belief in lifelong, perfect love too. As a girl she had concluded that the two eventually went together, that free love made it easier to recognize one's soul mate when he arrived.

She pictured her mother. Beautiful, vivacious, self-confident. More trusting than her daughter would grow to be, however. Less practical too. Over the years Artemis had surrounded herself with a moat of people who accepted the way she lived her life. Her circle understood about Richard and his place in her world.

Maybe late in the fascinating drama that was Artemis Blair's life, a man had come along determined to cross the moat and assail her walls. She might have been defenseless through sheer lack of practice in dealing with such old-fashioned men.

Like her daughter had just been out on the balcony.

Phaedra hugged a pillow. She was beginning lo understand now what had occurred with that late love affair that had undone her mother.

A seducer had arrived who had lured the primitive female that survives in every woman's soul. He had taken and conquered. He had influenced and weakened and eventually he had betrayed.

If he had initially pretended he was of like mind to the other men who surrounded her, Artemis would not have stood a chance.

The bitch. Elliot's frustration heaped other insults on Phaedra while he finished his breakfast in the loggia the next morning. Considering the hell his body had given him all night he was beyond being a gentleman in his thoughts.

He wanted to take satisfaction in the discomfort she had experienced in that hot, closed room while he let the balcony's breeze cool him. Only every time he had glanced to her door a part of him had prayed it would open and she would fly into his arms.

The door had never budged, of course. The self-contained, independent, thorn-in-his-side Phaedra Blair would never hand him such a victory.

Eventually the door became a repudiation. An accusation. An infuriating declaration of self-control.
You dared seduce instead of petition? You foolishly sought to master me, of all women?

He poured some coffee. Her erotic moans still sang in his head. He still fell her embrace and aggressive, deep kisses. The memories began making him hard again.

II had been good. Incredible. Where the hell had she found the sense to speak al all, lei alone the strength lo slop the torrent sweeping them away?

The faintest rustle and footstep disturbed the peace of the loggia. He did not need to look to the doorway to know who had arrived.

In the few moments it took Phaedra to walk to the table, he leashed the worst anger from the night's hot vigil. The last vestige spoke in his head as he greeted her, though.
You will not refuse me the next time; because you do not realty want to.

His calm welcome put her at ease. Her careful posture relaxed. She sat at the table and he poured her coffee. She sipped.

"Thank you for being so civilized," she said.

He could not believe that she was actually broaching the subject He set his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. Some very uncivilized, sexual images formed in his head.

"Are you referring to allowing you to retreat last night, or to pouring your coffee this morning?"

A servant intruded, carrying a platter of eggs and rashers. Matthias may have adopted Positano as home but he still offered a proper English breakfast to his guests.

Phaedra slowly spooned little bits of eggs onto her plate. Her actions absorbed most of her attention. "I suppose I was referring lo both."

"Well, Marsilio or Pietro might have created a spectacle last night, arguing and accusing until the household was woken. English gentlemen, however, are taught just to suffer."

Her lips pursed. She kept her eyes on her plate while she broke a roll. "I apologize for any suffering. It was not my intention. Perhaps, since you are being an English gentleman, I should not speak of it beyond saying that"

"That might be wise."

She slowly ate her breakfast.

He should leave, but of course he could not.

She set down her fork and dabbed at her mouth with her handkerchief. "Lord Elliot, if you intend for us to slay here a few more days then we need lo come to an understanding about that balcony."

She was incredible.
Amazing.
She had to know that his impulse was lo pick her up, throw her over his shoulder, carry her into the trees, and finish what they had begun. Yet here she was, negotiating lord knew what when a long night had made him less than amenable lo compromise.

"How so, Miss Blair?"

"We do share it. It isn't fair that I should be denied its use, or feel that stepping outside my door might cause you to interpret it to mean other than it does."

"I promise that I will not misinterpret your joining me on the balcony in the middle of the night."

The implications of his promise received a thorough scrutiny. She was smart enough to see the holes. "Can we at least agree that I am entitled to leave my door open to the air, without fearing that you will walk in?"

"No"

"I can see that I was too optimistic about your character."

"On that we can agree. I did warn you." "Lord Elliot, I—"

"I insist that you address me as Elliot in private conversation now, Phaedra. You do not mind the informality, do you? We can set that stupid social rule aside. After all, I have kissed your naked breast and you have moaned for me while I pleasured you."

Her mouth gaped. He felt like smiling for the first lime all morning. She retreated into a manner of prim hauteur. "I would prefer if we avoided each others company as much as possible.
Elliot"

"That will be easy this morning. Greenwood and I will be sequestered in his study until past midday."

She rose to her feet. "I think that I will lake a long walk and avoid all of this party for several hours." She turned lo leave.

"Phaedra."

She paused and looked over her shoulder.

"Phaedra, I require your promise that you will not attempt lo leave and that come dinner you will still be here."

She arched an eyebrow. "Because of your oath to Signore Sansoni?"

“That too."

Her expression said she understood the other reasons. "And if I will not give my word'*"

"I can tie you to the bed again. Would you like that?"

Her face reddened. She dismissed his insinuation with a quick turn of her head. "Do I have your word?"

"Yes, you have my word, although it is unnecessary and ridiculous. I would not begin to know how lo get off this rock, let alone how to travel to the interior."

Chin high, she floated away. Her black sails billowing behind her.

Phaedra returned to her chamber and unpacked her baggage.

How had he guessed her plan? She did not think of herself as a predictable woman, but Lord Elliot seemed to know her thoughts before she had even formed them.

She set the empty valise aside. Preparing to flee had been an impulse born of a night of honest reflection about the way he affected her. She was in grave danger of making a fool of herself, of melting into a puddle just because a man provoked physical desire. Avoiding the challenge completely had seemed a good idea at dawn.

She sat down and put on her low boots. She walked out on the balcony and looked down on the town. Voices floated up from the loggia beneath her. Other guests were breaking their fast.

She took a deep breath and called forth the woman her mother had taught her to be.

Deciding to flee had been cowardly. She had come to this land lo find answers about her mother, and some of them might be right here in this house. It made much more sense to slay and pursue the suspicions simmering beneath her fears and vulnerabilities regarding Lord Elliot.

Matthias Greenwood had disappeared into his
studio
with Lord Elliot when Phaedra returned to the loggia. Randall Whitmarsh sat at the table with his wife, however. Phaedra joined them and hoped Mrs. Whitmarsh would soon excuse herself. The interview with Matthias had gone so well last night that she was eager to discover if Mr. Whitmarsh could add to the information.

Unfortunately Mr. Whitmarsh left fast, heading off for his long morning walk.

"You looked very lovely last night" Mrs. Whitmarsh said.

"Thank you."

"One wonders why
...
" Her gaze slid down Phaedra’s current ensemble.

Phaedra did not bother with explanations. Mrs. Whitmarsh was not a woman who would comprehend the mixture of practicality and orneriness that had given birth to this eccentricity.

"What I mean is your mother did not adopt such outward symbols of her unique views."

Phaedra's attention sharpened. "Did you spend much lime with her?"

"Before we made our home in Rome my husband often attended her dinners. Unlike other wives, I agreed to join him. He was fascinated by her. I thought it best to make sure she never became fascinated by him."

Phaedra did not think it likely that Artemis would find Mr. Whitmarsh fascinating. But then before she read the memoirs, she would not have guessed Artemis had ever considered another man besides Richard Dairy.

"Were you successful in thwarting a liaison between them? Or did my mother favor your husband in that way?"

Mrs. Whitmarsh did not show surprise at the bold question. "I believe I was successful. Of course, until very late in her life she had eyes only for Mr. Drury."

"You imply that her eyes found another man eventually. Do not mince words for the sake of delicacy. I am her daughter, and like her I think it is silly that people do not speak frankly about such matters."

Mrs. Whitmarsh shrugged. "One saw a coolness between your parents the last year or so. My husband did not notice, but I did. There were men who wanted her, you see. Not as a wife, of course."

The judgmental, confident tone of the last sentence rankled Phaedra. She rallied to her mother’s defense even though Artemis needed no excuses. "If you did not see my mother moving her affection to another man the coolness might have only been the result of lime passing, and two lovers becoming familiar and comfortable."

"Miss Blair, my husband and I dined often with your mother over the years. Usually Mr. Drury was present. The familiarity and comfort you describe between them was palpable from the start. No one had to tell me on my first visit that they were lovers and that you were Mr. Drury's child. The last year, however, he was not in attendance so much. There was awkwardness when he was. You may think me dim-witted compared to yourself, bill when I perceive that all is not right between a man and a woman. I am rarely wrong."

Yes, Mrs. Whitmarsh, who so carefully guarded her possession of her husband, would become astute in this one area of human nature. Was she also perceptive.'' Had she seen everything? A woman guarding a treasure would be most likely to notice if the pirate she feared had aimed for another ship.

"Who was the man who became the new object of my mother's attentions?"