Royal 02 - Royal Passion (24 page)

"Surrender is such an appealing luxury, one not often afforded me. I changed my mind."

"Inconsistency, thy name is man?"

It was a home thrust, more of one than she realized. Still, her wariness pleased him, for it showed her to be a worthy adversary. It also disturbed him more than he wanted it to. It had been a very long time since he had been uncertain as to the best way to handle a situation or a woman.

"I want you,” he said, his gaze steady behind his spiked gold lashes as he spoke that simple truth. “Is there a better reason?"

She wanted him, too, and the pain of that desire was a knife turned against her. And yet the feeling that suffused her was regret. She had honored him for his scruples, for the ruthless self-abnegation of his will. He had put them aside with deliberation. It was a loss.

"I await your decision."

To seduce or be seduced. Was there any other choice? She could not see it. Oh, she might throw herself upon the mercy of the prince, beg his help in saving her grandmother. He would understand, she was sure, but there was no guarantee that he would act. He might well consider the safety of an elderly woman of less importance than swift retaliation against a proven enemy. Roderic was a man of many responsibilities, and there was more to this conspiracy against him than she had been told.

She did not think he would use physical coercion against her if she should decide to retreat even now, but she could not be sure. There was about him a sense of hard purpose that precluded certainty. But even if she had not come too far with him, there was the threat of de Landes to press her onward. The days were growing shorter, the ball coming nearer. She must act.

She had only to move closer to him, to put out her hands to touch him, and the deed would be done. Something held her back. It was not fear or physical reluctance, not embarrassment or even shyness, though she felt all of them. It was the exquisite courtesy of the prince, the end result of that grace and strength and fine control directed by lightning intelligence that she had seen used against others in the last few days. It struck her as being more cerebral than the occasion demanded. She mistrusted it, and him, but most of all she mistrusted her ability to guard herself against it. She recognized fully that though the choice had been left in her hands, he was not as neutral as he wished to appear. He meant to seduce her. The question was, why? And could she prevent him? Could she enthrall him instead?

He did not wait for her answer, but moved to the side of the bed and took up the velvet-covered box. Setting it on the bedstand, he took from it the magnificent necklace with its heavy, glittering diamonds.

She stepped back. “No, please."

"Are you afraid?"

"No.” The softly spoken word had an uncertain sound.

He reached to place the diamonds around her neck, fastening the clasp. “Even if you were,” he said, his warm breath stirring the silken hair at her temple, “to dare is to deny fear and to live."

"How could I fail to dare then?"

The necklace lay cold and heavy on her breastbone. Was it a bribe? If so, she could not afford to be insulted. He was close, so close. If she turned, she would be in his arms. It was imperative that she should do just that. And yet how could she? He was the prince, and there was about him all the power and burnished perfection of that title. With these things, as well as his stringent control of his men and himself, he did not seem quite mortal. It was unlikely then that he felt normal male desire, normal responses. For all her brave words, she was afraid. It was not simply a fear of the physical intimacy that must come, though that was daunting enough, but of how being so near to him would affect her in mind as well as in body. She could be changed; this she did not doubt. It was even possible that, like some maiden consorting with an unknown ancient god, she would be destroyed.

There was only one way to put that unreasoned fear to the test. Turning with the stiffness of a clockwork figure, she lifted her hands, placing her fingertips on the crisp white cloth of his uniform jacket and sliding them upward. His chest swelled with the sudden depth of his breathing. He cupped her elbows, drawing her nearer. She looked up and was snared in the blue fire of his gaze. Seeing the brightness that burned there, she discovered that, prince though he might be, his desire was intensely human.

He bent his golden head, and his lips, firm and smooth, gently enticing, touched hers. Blindly, she moved closer. His hands slid from her elbows along her upper arms to her back, drawing her nearer still as the kiss deepened. Her heart throbbed against her ribs while the blood ran swift and vibrant in her veins. Her breath was suspended in her throat. Her lips molded to his, infinitesimally clinging, and beneath her bodice and the warming weight of the diamond necklace her breasts swelled tight and full. The taste of his mouth was achingly sweet, endlessly entrancing. She eased her hands higher, clasping them behind his head, sliding her fingers through the short crisp curls that grew low on his neck. In her mind there was no thought except for the rich and unexpected pleasure of the moment.

His fingers at her back found the hooks of her gown. They made soft popping sounds as, one by one, he released them. A small quake of alarm touched her, but she subdued it, concentrating instead on the play of the muscles of his shoulders under his jacket as he worked. She wanted to touch his bare skin. The need was shocking but undeniable. Easing one hand between them, she began with experimental care to unhook the braided and frogged fastenings of his jacket.

Challis and cambric, broadcloth and linen, their clothing fell away, landing on the rug with soft, sighing whispers. Fluttering sleeves and firm folds, gently ruffled, stiffly starched, it piled one piece upon another, intermingling. Finally, they stood naked, bathed in the fire's glow and candlelight, their bodies gleaming, their senses reeling with the fragrance of violets and their own clean scents, with unappeased lust and strained sensibilities.

"Ah, Chère, you are an unconscious man's dream of loveliness. Pray God I don't wake,” he said, and reached to pinch out the candle flames.

Who was seducing whom? And did it matter? It did, of course, but not as much as the pulsating current of desire that held them. Mara turned toward the bed first, placing her knee upon that flower-strewn surface, sinking down among the violets upon the silken sheets that covered the feathered softness of the mattress. He joined her there, supporting himself on one elbow as he placed his hand on her abdomen. He spanned its narrow width easily with his long musician's fingers, which were calloused from swordplay. He studied her face with its suspended composure there in the firelit dimness, then, holding her gaze as long as possible, he leaned to taste the nipple of her breast, circling it with the grainy warmth of his tongue, taking it into the gentle adhesion of his mouth. He trailed kisses around that vibrant, contracted peak, journeying to the other to perform the same ritual. He brushed the valley between them with his lips and pushed aside the tumble of gems at her throat to trace its hollow with his tongue. He tested the pulse that beat hectically in the side of her neck, as if fascinated by its strength, before searing the turn of her jaw with his lips. He captured her mouth once more, exploring its moist inner surfaces, while at the same time, with consummate care, he allowed his hand to settle upon the small mound at the apex of her thighs.

She caught her breath as she felt that first touch there. There was no cause for alarm, however; he remained still except for the most tentative pressure and movement of one finger. A peculiar magic invaded her, spiraling downward to the center of her being. Involuntarily, she moved her hips so that she pressed against his hand, and slowly, gently, he began to caress her.

She was amazed and even a little frightened at the sensations that swept through her. In an instant she was glowing with internal heat and an odd, singing tension, snared in a voluptuous splendor. It did not seem possible that her body was her own, that she could feel so intensely while doing something that must be wrong. With tightly closed eyes and a small, inarticulate sound in her throat, she turned toward him. Still he held her, his fingers tirelessly, gently moving until her stomach muscles contracted in spasms, his mouth teasing her nipples into tight buds of anticipation.

Pleasure rippled through her in waves. She thought that she could bear no more; still it came. His motions grew firmer, eased deeper between her thighs. She felt an exquisite probing, a slight though burning entry.

He went still. In some far corner of her mind, she realized that he had discovered the barrier of her virginity, or the remnants of it that were left after the rough exploration of Dennis Mulholland. It must not be allowed to make a difference since at this moment it made none to her. Sliding her hand in haste along his arm, she pressed his hand back upon her, at the same time twisting closer to him in an ecstasy of resolve and longing.

"Don't stop,” she whispered. “Oh, don't, please."

Her flesh was moist and heated where he touched. He eased deeper, soothing, stretching, applying exquisite pressure until she moaned and turned her head from side to side on the pillow. She was melting, her body and spirit as liquid as hot candle wax. The need to take him inside her was beginning to feel like desperation. She longed to press the hollows and curves of her body upon him, closer and closer still, as if she could make him a part of her in that way.

She felt a tremor pass through the muscles of his arms and recognized the price he was paying in order to extend to her the care, the regard for her responses, the sensitivity to them that he had shown. These things were a part of him, not something he summoned for her alone; still, she was grateful.

Sliding lower in the bed, she reached to place her hand on his lean flank, drawing him toward her in unmistakable invitation.

He entered her by degrees, filling her tightness with the rigid length of himself, holding her close as she drew in her breath at the breaching of that narrow entrance. The instant of fiery pain eased almost before it had begun. As she relaxed, releasing the air pent-up in her lungs, he began to move within her in a rhythm as measureless as it was ancient. She rose against him, clinging, surrendering to the rapture. Boundless, gilded with firelight, it caught them and sent them striving together into the darkness.

The fire had sunk to a bed of black and red coals. The room was growing cool; still, Roderic made no move to reach for the covers. He lay propped against the headboard of the bed watching the woman who slept in exhaustion beside him. He had thought that once he had her in his bed he would be able to understand her. He was wrong. The smell and taste of her was in his nostrils and mouth like some exotic drug, her touch was on his skin like a brand. He had enjoyed her embraces, her astonishing responsiveness again and yet again through the past few hours. Still she eluded him. Still he was not satisfied. He did not like it.

An innocent seductress. Who would have thought it? He still could not quite believe the evidence he had himself discovered. It gave him a peculiar feeling inside to know that he had been the first, to think that she had given him such a gift of her own accord. He was honored, humbled, and exalted at the same time, but also wary. There had to be a reason. There had to be. It made no sense otherwise.

He could see the diamonds of the necklace he had given her shining, catching the faint light in their facets. It was intriguing there upon her nakedness, though it also seemed crude, too hard and glittering. It had been the wrong gift for her. He had been wrong also to seek to sway her with such a display, but he had thought to learn something by it. Instead he was left more disturbed. Why had she taken it? Why hadn't she thrown it back in his face as he had half expected?

He breathed a soft imprecation. He was allowing her to affect him far too much. He must take care.

Mara stirred, opened her eyes. She sat up straight, staring at his dark shape there beside her in the dimness.

"Virginity is a commodity prized more by some than others; still, I am curious. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I ... didn't see that it made any difference except to me."

"You thought I would have no interest?"

"Why should you? Unless to keep score?"

"That,” he said softly, “was unworthy."

"It seems to me that the question is moot.” She swung away from him to reach for the coverlet and draw it up over her.

"It might be less so if there is to be an enraged fiancé or father descending upon me at some time in the future."

"It hardly seems likely.” The words were muffled. She thought briefly of her papa, far away in Louisiana. He could not help her, not now.

That elusive answer sent rage tumbling through his veins. He reached for her, catching her upper arms, dragging her warm nakedness against him."Why?” he demanded through clenched teeth. “Why?"

"I don't know,” she cried. “How can I? You're mad to ask!"

His anger faded as quickly as it had come. He eased her down so that she lay across his lap. There was a violet caught in her hair, and he reached to untangle its petals, twirling it in his fingers, brushing it across the tender surfaces of her lips. His voice pensive, he said, “Maybe I am mad, maybe I am, indeed."

Lowering his head, he crushed the violet against her mouth with his own.

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The pale winter sunshine falling through the panes of pastel-colored glass spilled circles of soft rose and aqua color over Mara as she paced up and down the main gallery. She was alone. Roderic had been called to a meeting at court. The others had dispersed on odd errands. There were no guests expected. She should have been relieved, happy to have a few moments to herself; instead she felt deserted.

She had need of the time in which to think, however. The plan could go forward now. She had achieved the goal set for her and must take advantage of it. The trouble was that she could not bring herself to concentrate on what must be done.