“Isn’t passion better when there is love?”
He shrugged.Lie. “I wouldn’t know. I find pleasure with women and I am not in love with them. I wonder if you’ve ever been kissed?” At her smile, he added, “Kissed properly.”
Her smile dimmed, and her cute nose screwed up. “I assure you I have been kissed and properly.” She pulled her hand from his and folded her arms over her chest.
With a finger, he tilted her chin and looked into her eyes. They were swimming with a mixture of bravado and question. “Shall we see…” He pressed his mouth to hers, letting his lips dance over hers, and Rockwell felt Farah relax. Her eyes drifted closed as he deepened the kiss. He stroked her cheek with one finger. It was a misdirection as his tongue gained entrance and she stiffened for one moment before once more surrendering and letting her tongue tangle with his.
But soon it was Rockwell who was falling under her spell. The taste of her was like ambrosia, and his tongue possessively stroked hers. His hand cupped the back of her head as her shy participation created a yearning inside him that he’d never experienced before. He should stop before he lost control, but the idea that Lambert had kissed her before him made Rockwell want to eviscerate the man’s memory from her mind.
It was the sound of Farah’s moan that saw him break off the kiss and rock back in his chair, stunned from the need to take her that coursed through his veins. All he could hear was her rapid panting. He watched in masculine satisfaction as her fingers feathered over her lips, as if in awe.
“Goodness. That was—goodness,” she murmured shakily, forcing a lightness to her tone.
Happy that he’d made his point, he stood. “Marriage based on friendship but with desire and passion is not to be sniffedat. Love is a bonus, but not a necessity.” He needed her to understand this because when they returned to London, they would likely have to marry. Perhaps she would not see a marriage to him as she did a marriage to Franklin—the end of her world. “If you’ll excuse me, I shall retire for my bath. Don’t stay up too late. We have a busy few days ahead.”
Then he walked into his bedchamber, right next to hers, and images of Farah naked in a bath in the room next to his flooded his vision. He groaned out loud. Having her so close would be torture. But he owed her the chance to see if they could return from this voyage unscathed.
Chapter Five
Farah reached forher glass with a shaky hand and took a long gulp of the wine within. She sat there for a moment, swaying, dizzy, trying to regain her composure. Shaken to her very core, she couldn’t believe the power in Rockwell’s kiss. Even Philippe’s kisses hadn’t affected her so, but then again, Philippe’s kisses had been chaste compared to Rockwell’s. His tongue had entered her mouth and—she’d liked it.
Her skin still tingled all over. She shifted in her chair. Her whole body was warm, but there was a yearning in her feminine center which still throbbed. She looked at her plate of half-eaten food but pushed it away. This was terrible. Now she would think of Rockwell in a new light. Seeing him naked was bad enough, but now that he’d kissed her….
She chided herself for allowing such a liberty. She was supposed to be his sister and already they had acted inappropriately. It must be because she was tired and worried about her—their—situation. She threw her napkin on the table, chiding herself. It was time for a bath and then for bed. Tomorrow was another day, and she planned to find Lord Furoe as fast as she could and get herself home with no scandal. She would not put Rockwell in a position where he had to marry her. She’d have to find another way to deal with Lord Franklin.
She couldn’t end up in a marriage of convenience with Rockwell. She might lose her heart to him and she was prettysure love was something he didn’t want in a marriage. She’d be just as miserable with him as she would be with Lord Franklin—maybe more. She was right in her thinking. For her, it was love or nothing in a marriage. She wanted what Wolf and Tiffany shared, or she’d rather become a spinster.
A few minutes later, as she lay soaking in the hot water, her gown taken for cleaning, all she could think about was that Rockwell was in the chamber next door—naked too. She closed her eyes and relived the kiss. His finger on her cheek was like fire on her skin—almost branding her. She’d wanted him to touch her everywhere.
Rockwell was like laudanum. It gave such pleasant dreams, you had to fight to keep from using it every day. She, of course, didn’t have any with her, as she hadn’t expected to be shanghaied on a ship bound for Ireland. When her courses came, she often needed it for the pain. Now she would avoid it in case she dreamed of him. From now on, Farah vowed earnestly, she would make a concerted effort to always play her role as his sister and remind him of such.
She had no choice. For the first time in her life, she was conflicted. She could envision letting a man like Rockwell take her to bed, but he would only do so as her husband, and that she couldn’t afford to contemplate. A wanderer who didn’t believe in love would likely have a woman in every port while she was left behind.
That could work if she didn’t feel her heart might be in danger. The wisest thing would be to keep away from him, but it was impossible to do when stuck in Ireland with him.
Just then, she felt something touching her arm as it hung over the tub. She looked over the side of the tub and spied a very large brown spider with legs as long as her fingers crawling up her arm.
The scream she issued was followed by a violent shaking of her arm to try to remove it, but it wouldn’t budge. She was screaming her head off while jumping out of the tub and swatting the spider away with her other hand.
The spider dropped to the floor and scurried away towards the bed. She quickly threw her towel over it, not wanting to sleep in a bed she knew an enormous spider had crawled under. Her breathing got back to normal just as the door burst open to find a dripping wet, and naked Rockwell, his face pale with a pistol in hand standing in the doorway.
He looked about the room and then at her, also naked in the middle of the room.
She pointed to the towel. “A spider,” she croaked out. “A very large spider,” she said, and shuddered.
But Rockwell stood like a stone statue, his mouth hanging open. As she let her eyes sweep up his magnificent body, the cold night air was forgotten as she found the heat and desire flaring in his eyes. Only then did she remember she was naked, too.
She looked around and grabbed for the quilt on the end of her bed but gave it a good shake before wrapping herself in it. “Can you get rid of the spider, please? It’s under the towel. I won’t be able to sleep unless I know it’s gone.”
“Sleep… I’ll never sleep now that I’ve seen…” Rockwell growled. “Why didn’t you simply kill it?”
She shook her head as she tried not to look at him—still naked. “Just pop it out the window. It’s not hurting anyone. Perhaps you should—cover yourself first, now that I have the spider contained.”
Rockwell flashed her a look she couldn’t understand before crossing naked to the towel and picking it up. He walked to the window and shook it out. As he turned back to face her, he held the towel in front of him, blocking the view she was coming to crave.
He stood there, looking at her wrapped in the quilt and a pained look crossed his face. “I’d hand you the towel but I suspect the sight of my…” he swallowed hard, “my reaction to your nakedness might be inappropriate. I’ll fetch you another towel from my room.” With that he stalked out, leaving her staring at his bare buttocks clenching as he walked. Her body heated and her mouth fell open.
He was gone for quite some time and she stood, still wet, in the middle of her room in the now completely soaked quilt. Finally, he returned, but this time, to her disappointment, he had a deep blue dressing gown tied tightly around him.
