Hell’s teeth, there would be nothing she would like better than to marry Anthony Malory…ifhe loved her,ifhe would be faithful,ifshe could trust him. None of that was true, however. Nicholas Eden might love Regina, her grandfather might have lovedher grandmother, George Amherst possibly had loved Frances and still did, but Anthony had admitted he didn’t love her. And unfortunately, it would be too easy for her to love him. If that weren’t the case, she would accept his offer. But she wasn’t fool enough to leave herself open to the kind of hurt Anthony could and would bring her.
She glanced around to face him, only to see the bed empty now. Startled, she felt her bonnet being tugged on and shot forward to the edge of the chair. She turned to find Anthony casually leaning against the chair, his arms braced on the back.
It took a second for Roslynn to adjust to his nearness and, clearing her throat, she managed to get out, “I’m sorry, but what you’ve said about Frances and George doesn’t change my mind about you.”
“Somehow I didn’t think it would,” he said, shaking his head, and the slow smile appearing added to Roslynn’s unease. “You’re a stubborn Scot, Lady Chadwick, but that’s one of the things I find endearing about you. I give you what you desperately need, and you spite yourself by refusing, and for some ridiculous reason that is pure supposition. I could turn out to be the most exemplary of husbands, you know, but you won’t give me the chance to find out one way or the other.”
“I told you, I’m not a gambler, Anthony. I’d rather not risk the rest of my life on a ‘maybe’ when the odds are so stacked against it.”
He bent forward to rest his chin on his crossed arms. “You do realize that if I keep you here overnight, you will be quite compromised. I wouldn’t even have to touch you, my dear. Circumstances speak for themselves. It’s what got Reggie married,when her first meeting with Montieth had been quite innocent.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“I believe I would.”
Roslynn shot to her feet, glaring at him with the chair safely between them. “That’s—that’s…it’d no’ work anyway! I’m going home to Scotland. What do I care if my reputation’s ruined here? I’d still have my—” She couldn’t get the intimate word out, so skirted the thought. “My husband would know the difference, and that’s all I care about.”
“Is it?” he asked, a devilish gleam appearing in his cobalt eyes. “Then you don’t leave me much choice, sweetheart, if I’m to help you despite yourself. So it’s to be compromised in truth rather than by pretense?”
“Anthony!”
Her wail brought a grin to his lips. “I rather doubt I could have settled for the pretense anyway. It was good of me to consider it, but I’m too much the rake, as you keep pointing out, not to take advantage of your presence in my bedroom.”
She began backing toward the door, more quickly when he came around the chair to follow her. “I’ll—I’ll settle for the pretense.”
He shook his head at her. “My dear girl, if everyone is going to assume you’ve shared my bed, why deny yourself the pleasure?”
Roslynn had to fight down the thrill of anticipation those words gave her, even though she was sure he was just toying with her. And his teasing manner kept her from being truly alarmed, yet the closer he got, the more she became alarmed in another way.
She knew what could happen if he kissed her. It had happened before. Whether he was serious or notabout this supposed seduction, if he touched her it was likely to happen, regardless, and with very little effort on his part.
“I don’t want—”
“I know,” he said softly as he caught her shoulders and pulled her up against his chest. “But you will, sweetheart. I can promise you that.”
He was right, of course. He knew what she wanted, deep down, what she couldn’t admit to him or herself. She could fight against it till the sun ceased to shine, but it wouldn’t go away. He was the most exciting, compelling man she had ever known, and she had wanted him from the moment she met him. Such intensity of feelings had nothing to do with logic and reasoning. It was the yearning of heart and body, common sense be damned.
Roslynn let go, giving herself up to the senses as he gently enclosed her in his embrace. It felt like coming home, so often had she imagined being held by him again. The warmth of his body, the strength of his arms, the headiness of his passion, she remembered, yet it was all new again, wonderful, and so very welcome.
But his kiss, when it came, was actually so hesitant she barely felt it. And she realized he was giving her this last chance to stop him before he took complete control. He knew very well that he was experienced enough, skillful enough, to overcome any reluctance she might still harbor. He had done it before. That he was holding back warmed her heart more than anything, making her want him even more.
Roslynn said yes simply by slipping her arms around his neck. She was crushed then by the might of his relief, until he recalled himself. But she didn’tmind. Breathing was incidental in light of the magic Anthony was now wielding with his mouth. His lips were warm, dry, moving carefully across her own, slowly fanning the heat between them.
He held her like that for a long while, kissing her, letting her feast on the delicious sensations he was evoking. When he leaned back, it was to begin working the buttons on her dress. Her bonnet and cloak had already been discarded without her even realizing he had removed them. Now she watched him begin to slowly undress her, and she couldn’t move, didn’t want to anyway. His eyes were mesmerizing her, grown dark and heavy-lidded, seeing into her soul. She couldn’t look away, even when she felt her dress slithering over her hips to puddle at her feet, or her undergarments following the same path.
He didn’t touch her then, except with his eyes as they took a slow journey down her length and back up again. On his lips appeared that sensual smile that had the power to liquefy her limbs, dangerous when her senses were already melted. She swayed, and his hands came out to steady her, grasping her hips, but they didn’t stay there. With exquisite slowness, he savored the feel of her bare skin, around her hips, over her narrow waist, stopping finally at her breasts, his thumbs hooked beneath. He didn’t touch her in any other way, yet her nipples tightened, her heartbeat accelerated, and a new warmth uncoiled inside her.
And his smile widened. It was positively triumphant, as if he could see inside her and knew exactly what she was feeling. He was a man victorious, rejoicing. And she didn’t care. She was smiling herself, but inwardly, because if he had won, so had she, defeating her own common sense to have whatshe had wanted all along, to make love with this man, to have him initiate her and be her first lover, because with him she knew it would be beautiful.
But as long as she was going to give in to her desires, she wanted to take an active part. She had thought before of undressing him, wondering what he would look like. Her imagination had produced an Adonis. Before her was the man, much more intimidating than a fantasy, yet desire made her bold.
She tugged loose his belt so that his robe fell open, and placing her palms against his skin as he had done against hers, she moved her hands up, touching him as she had longed to do, skin to skin, spreading the robe wide, pushing it back at his shoulders. He let it drop from his arms and reached for her, but she held him at arm’s length, wanting to look her fill. Revealed to her was warm skin and muscle, dark, curling hair, a chest that made her fingers tingle. Solid, powerful, he was so much more than she had imagined. She had a strong, compulsive urge to wrap her limbs around him, to get as close as was humanly possible, and there was so much of him to get close to.
“Och, but you’re a bonny mon, Anthony.”
He had been spellbound, watching Roslynn’s fascinated scrutiny of him, but her husky words were the stimulus that nearly sent him over the edge. He yanked her to him, his mouth coming down hard to slash across hers. At the same time he lifted her in his arms and bore her to the bed.
He let her down gently, then leaned back, his eyes smoldering on her face, down her body once more, all of her lying in his bed. How often he had pictured her here, her skin flushed with desire, her eyes heated, beckoning. She was exquisite, more so thanhe had envisioned, curves perfectly rounded, womanly, and she was here, his, and she wanted him.
