The Worldly Widow (5 page)

He thought he understood. Like himself, her lover probably had rooms in another part of the Palais Royal. In all likelihood, her coachman had delivered her to the wrong part of the vast building.

"Does your husband know that you have a lover?
"

Annabelle choked on her champagne. When she had regained her breath, she glared into his unsmiling eyes and said chillingly, "I make it a rule never to talk about my husband to strangers.
"

"It
'
s as I thought,
"
he said, and calmly bit into the peach in his hand.

"What is?
"
she asked cautiously.

He dabbed his lips with his table napkin. "I make no doubt that your poor husband is as henpecked as your erstwhile lover.
"
He flashed her a knowing grin. "I suspect it
'
s in your nature to try to master anyone who is weaker than you. Let me give you a piece of advice,
"
he softly admonished. "You
'
ll come to grief if you try that tack with me.
"

"I wouldn
'
t dream of it,
"
she readily assured him. That he had painted her as a managing female who emasculated the men in her life, even if they were a figment of his imagination, she found highly annoying. When her husband had been alive, she had been the most conformable wife in England. Much good it had done her.

"Do you live under the same roof?
"

"What?
"
She could not seem to keep up with his thoughts.

He gave her a lazy, indulgent smile. "Mrs. Jocelyn, you
'
re not paying attention. Your lover is old history now. Do you share your husband
'
s roof?
"

His eyes held hers in their mesmerizing depths. She saw intelligence there and a simmering passion which he held rigidly in check. She tried to imagine that passion unleashed against herself. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose at the harrowing spectacle. As an enemy or as a lover, such a man would demand complete surrender, and whether or not he would be generous in victory was a matter of conjecture. For an unguarded moment, she allowed herself a small flight of fancy. To be under the protection of such a man, whether as his wife or as his mistress, would have its own compensations. He would hold and protect what was his should the whole world be against him. The fortunate woman of his choice would have a strong arm to lean on.

She would also have a very domineering and masterful man who would not tolerate any show of resistance to his will. To a woman who was used to a modicum of freedom, he posed a threat she
'
d be a fool to underrate. She did not deny that there was an attraction between them. But she knew, in that instant, that to give herself to him even once would be the most foolhardy and dangerous thing she could ever do. To a brief love affair, she might have been susceptible. She was not sure. Perhaps if he had courted her, gentled her of her fears,
treated her with deference…
but she was appalled at this stark show of masculine determination. Without volition, she shivered.

"Well?
"
he demanded.

She tried to recall what he had last said. Of course. Her husband. She felt as if she were groping her way blindfolded through a treacherous quagmire. One false move, and she would sink to her neck.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, she said, "You have no right to ask that question.
"

"Will he fight for you?
"

Careful not to issue a challenge in her words, but very evenly and distinctly she said, "Edgar won
'
t fight for me because it won
'
t be necessary.
"

"Is he or is he not a true husband to you?
"

"What?
"
For an awful moment she thought he suspected the truth.

His eyes blazed as be reached across the table and sank his fingers into her shoulders. "Answer my question. Does he exercise his conjugal rights?
"

Resentment flared in her. "I
'
ve told you, I don
'
t discuss my husband with anyone.
"

"Annabelle!
"

The threat in that one furious word brought her to a sense of her jeopardy. "No!
"
she said, her voice oddly breathless. "Edgar has not been a husband to me in years.
"

He studied her expression as if weighing the truth of her statement. Inexplicably his lip curled. "I can almost feel sorry for the poor blighter,
"
he said, dropping his hands from her shoulders.

Annabelle fell back into her chair. Rubbing her shoulders where she could still feel the imprint of his fingers, she said resentfully, "What
'
s the matter with you? I told you what you wanted to know. Don
'
t blame me if you don
'
t care for the answers.
"

There was a touch of self-mockery in his smile when he said, "Oh, I liked your answer well enough. But I pity your husband. He was a fool to let another man chase him from your bed. But then, it wasn
'
t just one man, was it?
"

"I beg your pardon?
"

"
The fact that he has not been a husband to you in years suggests a succession of lovers.
"

She read the condemnation in his expression. Very softly she said, "Spare me the censure. I
'
m not forgetting the girl in the hotel gardens or Monique Dupres. You
'
re not exactly a patterncard of rectitude yourself, are you?
"

"No,
"
he agreed amicably, "but then, I
'
m not married.
"

"Congratulations,
"
she ground out. "You
'
re to be envied.
"

"So,
"
he said, "the state of matrimony was a disappointment to you and you embarked on a string of affairs. It
'
s a familiar tale, I suppose, though rather sordid. Which brings us to 'The Milksop.
'
I
'
d be obliged if you
'
d give me his name and direction. You needn
'
t look at me like that.
"
A slow smile
touched his lips. "Hopefully, it won
'
t come to a duel.
"

Annabelle had a vivid impression of the Bois deBoulogne at dawn and two marksmen with pistols in hand turning on command to fire at each other. Her throat became parched; her hands became clammy. It had been one thing when her back was to the wall to pretend that she had a claim to the protection of some powerful gentleman. Now, she was beginning to see she had made a serious blunder. Fear loosened her tongue.

"I have no lover,
"
she told him earnestly. "I
'
m sorry if I gave you that impression. The man you mistook for my lover is merely a kinsman who very kindly gave me escort to Paris. There
'
s absolutely no occasion for you to threaten him in any way.
"

"A kinsman?
"
he asked incredulously.

"Yes. On my husband
'
s side. I
'
m telling you the truth. I swear it! I hoped you would leave me alone if you thought he was my protector. Then, when you threatened him, what else could I do but come here with you?
"

"You have no lover?
"

"No,
"
averred Annabelle vehemently.

He eyed her thoughtfully over the rim of his wineglass. She could not sustain that searching look and reached for the tray of sweets which a waiter had set on the table a moment before.

She nibbled delicately. "Marzipan,
"
she said for something to say to break the unnerving silence which had grown between them. "One of my favorites.
"

Straightening in his chair, he said, "Why is it I have the impression that you
'
re not being completely frank with me?
"

That she was chewing on a marzipan gave her an excellent excuse to marshal her thoughts before rushing into speech. Finally she said, "I don
'
t know why I have told you as much as
I
have.
"

"Oh we both know the answer to that,
"
he said provocatively.

"Oh?
"

As she reached for another marzipan, he grasped her wrist. Her eyes lifted to meet his. Very softly, he said, "You
'
ve finally met a man you cannot master. I
'
m willing to overlook your checkered past, but you
'
ll find me very different from your
husband if you don
'
t play straight with me.
"

She meant to wrench herself from his grasp, but before she had that satisfaction, he released her. Once again, she found herself rubbing her flesh where his fingers had bruised her.

"If 'The Milksop
'
isn
'
t your lover, it
'
s not for the want of trying. I
'
ve saved the poor sap an ignominious fate. He should thank me for it.
"

"What
'
s that supposed to mean?
"
For a man who professed that he wanted to bed her, she found his whole demeanor positively insulting.

"It means, my sweet,
"
he drawled, "that the man is a weakling. The man who thinks to master you should be cast in the heroic mold—you know, someone who has been mentioned in dispatches and so on.
"

"Such as yourself?
"
she jeered.

"Precisely!
"
He made no attempt to conceal his laughter at her expense.

She was stung into goading him. " 'The Milksop,
'
as you are pleased to call him, is more of a man than you give him credit for. That he has some war injury which makes it difficult for him to jump on and off horses and pursue the so-called manly sports does not weigh with me.
"

"I assure you, it does not weigh with me either.
"

"Then what are you talking about?
"

"I
'
m talking about the way he fawns over you like some domesticated lapdog, coming to heel when you snap your fingers. If you were to give the command, I
'
m sure the poor creature would lie down and play dead.
"

"He
'
s a gentleman, for heaven
'
s sake. He respects me. I respect him. More, I like him. He
'
s been a good friend to me. How dare you call him a weakling and a milksop simply because he doesn
'
t try to terrify a poor, defenseless woman? He knows the true meaning of the word
manliness!
"

"Some poor, defenseless woman?
"
he repeated, and his dark brows lifted eloquently. "And who might that be? You? Spare me the rhetoric. And as for the meaning of the word
manliness,
you
'
re the one who
'
s in need of a lesson. It shall be my very great pleasure to teach you what that word means precisely.
"

She waited in simmering silence until the waiter had removed the remains of their meal, then she began on a recital in which she was well versed, only this time, her words were etched with venom. "Mr. Dalmar, I am deeply grateful of the honor you have done me. It is with heartfelt regret, however, that I feel constrained to decline your offer. To be frank, we would not suit.
"

He smiled tolerantly and said, "In case you hadn
'
t noticed, Mrs. Jocelyn, I
'
m not offering. I
'
m telling you how it will be.
"

"Why?
"
The word was almost a wail. "What gives you the right to force yourself on me?
"

For the first time, his face gentled into an emotion that was very close to tenderness. His hand reached out and touched her left cheek in a butterfly caress. "You know why,
"
he told her softly. "Don
'
t try to gammon yourself. Electricity has been sizzling between us since the moment we met in that hotel lobby. But you
'
re afraid of any man who comes up to your weight. If I don
'
t make the push to capture you, some other man will.
"
Amusement crept into his voice. "I suspect that this is going to be a battle royal—oh, not that that
'
s how
I
want it. But you
'
re going to fight me every inch of the way. You know, it doesn
'
t have to be like this. You could surrender gracefully at the outset and save us both a great deal of trouble.
"