Nick’s eyes flew open.
He stared aghast at Jane.
Jane, sleeping in his bed.
With dawning horror, he jerked upright, the sheet falling from the both of them. The first thing he saw was her long, lovely naked legs—her nightgown was twisted up around her thighs, revealing the bottom of one buttock. Then he saw the bed—the splotch of blood on the pristine white sheets. He looked down at himself and saw that his member was stained as well. With an agonized cry, he shoved her to her back and saw the blood between her thighs.
“Ahh, God!” he cried. “What have I done?”
Jane blinked at him sleepily.
He was standing, naked, panting. He looked at Jane and she shrank against the headboard wide-eyed now. He tried to recall exactly how it had happened. He remembered getting drunk in the library. He remembered the dream. He remembered coming to bed alone—or had he been so drunk he did not remember abducting her? He turned his back to her, shoulders drooping with defeat. He saw his own ravaged face in the mirror. “God, what have I done?”
She touched him.
He jumped.
She was an angel in her white nightgown and her splendid platinum hair. His gaze, horrified, riveted upon her bodice. It was ripped from the neck to the waist.Had he raped her?
“It’s all right,” she told him, big blue eyes wide and earnest. “I wanted to be with you.” She smiled tremulously.
“You are a fool,” he cried. “And I am perverted, sick, sick.” Bluntly he said, “I don’t remember what happened. Did I rape you?”
“No!” Her smile was at first hesitant, then it began to shine. “It was wonderful!”
He stepped back, as if struck. “Did I abduct you?”
She stared. Then, in a small voice: “No.”
“I don’t understand.”
She faltered. “You were sleeping. I only wanted to comfort you, hold you. But you were so beautiful, I—” Seeing his black expression, she froze.
“I was sleeping? What are you saying?” he roared.
“I didn’t think when I climbed into bed. I just wanted to hold you, and when you started kissing me, I … I … couldn’t stop …”
Relief was instant, flooding him. He hadn’t raped her, he hadn’t abducted her. Then the fury came. “You got into bed with me? While I was sleeping? And you let me make love to you? Damn you! Damn you!” he roared.
She flinched as if struck, then backed away. Tears filled her eyes.
“Ahh, shit,” Nick said, turning away, leaning on the bureau. He had to think—he couldn’t think. And then he heard someone in the hall. He whirled. He had to protect Jane’s reputation at all costs.
“Quick! Get into your robe! Don’t make a sound!”
He sent the maid off on a false errand, then rushed back into the room. He whipped the bloody sheet off the bed, balling it up. He would have to rinse it immediately, then spill red wine upon it. “You get back to your room,” he ordered Jane in a deadly voice. “And make sure no one sees you leaving this wing. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her face crumbling, a child on the verge of tears.
“And you await my summons there,” he said with a snarl.
The earl was sick.
It didn’t matter that she had come to him, although he thanked the God he did not believe in that he had not abducted her. What was done was irreversible. He had ruined her. He almost wanted to kill Jane. She was utterly reckless, impulsive, thoughtless! So much for propriety, he thought savagely. She did not have a proper bone in her body!
He recalled, too perfectly now, her passion as she writhed beneath him. No, she had not a proper bone in herentirebody!
Nor did he. For with the memory came hot desire. He hated himself for wanting her again.
