She was a ruthless liar.
“So why didn’t you tell me you were the Saint?” he hissed, striking at her deceit. She’d pay for making him look the fool and keeping him tapping his toe with Grant.
In the wavering candlelight, she lifted her head to meet his gaze straight on then shrugged. “At first, I didn’t know who you were, and I didn’t trust you. Besides, I didn’t think it was important.”
There was boldness in her voice and in the golden eyes that gazed back at him, but despite her attempt at bravado, he felt her shiver of fear, and he formed an idea that might put a permanent end to her antics. It was a beautiful plan, and he felt the excitement of a gambler dealt a hand of aces—the game in his favor. Brilliant. He’d take the risk, using his own devil’s box of tricks. He’d maneuver her, throw her off balance.
“You’re frightened of me.”
She bristled at his words. “I’m not frightened of you.”
He took her hand and her fingers trembled. Hot wax from the candle she held seared down his wrist. He placed it on a table. “Liar. You are scared to death, and you should be. Don’t faint away on me.”
“I’ve never fainted in my life.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” Lucas dropped her hand and backed her up against the wall. He placed one hand on each side of her head and bent his head until his face was only inches from hers. It was a dominating position and told her he had all the advantage.
“Let me go. What if Bowman discovers us?” she hissed.
“He’s way up on the third floor west wing, gone to sleep and not likely to hear a thing. Like you said, the servants, if any are present are asleep. As for you, Rachel, this business is ended. I’m taking you home with me. I’ll lock you up if necessary.”
A small vein throbbed over a delicate brow. “For heaven’s sakes, Lucas. Don’t you think I would escape? I’ve done it countless times before. You can never hold me.”
“No, but I can think of other ways to hold you.”
She shivered beneath his grasp.
“I don’t want you. I never wanted you.”
“It’s a lie, but you do have your pride. Tell me,” he murmured, looking straight into her eyes, her face illuminated by the moonlight coming through the window, “why you continued to deceive me?”
“You were bent on believing I had a mythical lover, so I let you think what you wanted.”
His back teeth ground together.
“What of your fiancée?”
“What about her?” Felling less than charitable, Lucas refused to let her know the truth. He’d been made a fool. Two could play the same game.
“Isn’t it inconvenient?”
Mirrored in those golden pools he saw her shock give way to hurt. A part of him desired to tell her the truth, and then make love to her. But the other part, undeniably, wanted to put his hands around her throat and strangle her for her deception, and—for her denial of him.
Lucas shrugged. “I’m a reasonable man. I only intend to keep what is mine and for my pleasure. You may fight me being my prisoner.” He moved his hand down her neck and beneath her jacket. He yanked up her shirt, pulled off the tight bindings that made her look like a boy. His hand closed over a full breast, rotating the nipple until it became pebble hard. “I encourage you to think of the prospects.”
Rachel inhaled.
He plucked at the nipple. “This is the new Lucas. The one you’ll not deceive anymore. The one you’ll answer to.”
“It’s over between us.”
He laughed, and then trailed a path down her slender waist, reaching down into her trousers. His hand touched her womanly folds, warm, moist. His fingers began a lust-arousing exploration of her soft flesh, the silk of her womanhood open to his demands. Her lips parted in a gasp.
Lucas sought to master her, to demonstrate that she belonged to him, and that any resistance on her part would not be accepted. He planned to probe to her very soul, to put his mark there.
“My dear girl,” he replied with mock astonishment. “I wouldn’t dream of letting someone go with your talents. It would be such a waste.”
“What do you mean?” Her hands clenched to curb her shaking and she pushed at him to get free.
