He shook his head, disgusted with himself and what he couldn’t control. She was going to turn out to be a regret. He knew it, yet what could he do? He had lied to her left and right, and there would be more lies before he was done. It was bad enough that he had worked her into Newcomb’s downfall, was using her to help accomplish it.
She feared him, though he couldn’t understand why. Because of that she had already said she didn’t want to marry him. If he bedded her, would she still feel that way? Was she the type to equate making love with total commitment? He wished she were more predictable. And he wished she didn’t fear him.
The carriage stopped in front of the house, but Sharisse was still sound asleep. Lucas sat up slowly, drawing her with him.
“Sharisse?”
She frowned, gripping his jacket. “But I don’t want to marry him, Father. Stephanie loves Joel, I don’t.”
Lucas grinned, wondering what this was all about. “Sharisse, wake up.”
She opened her eyes, disoriented. “Who—? Oh, it’s you.” She looked around the carriage. “What are we doing here?”
“The party, remember? We’ve just arrived home.”
She started to sway and caught herself by holding on to him. Lucas lifted her to the ground.
“Can you walk, or do I have to carry you inside?” he asked in amusement, hoping for the latter.
“Carry me? Don’t be absurd!”
Sharisse preceded him to the door, walking in a remarkably straight line. Lucas intercepted the driver’s grin and returned it, saluting him on his way. He caught Sharisse just as she stumbled in the door.
“I thought there wasn’t a step there,” she said indignantly, glaring behind her at Lucas.
“There isn’t,” he chuckled.
“Oh.”
The room was flooded with moonlight, so he didn’t light a lamp. He swept her up into his arms, amazed at the effect this had on him. He was holding her, had her just where he wanted her. Yet he was as powerless as she was, unable to resist the sweet parting of her lips.
He wanted only a taste, but her lips moved beneath his, warm and alive, igniting a fire in him. He groaned. Sharisse sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, quite unaware of what she was doing to him.
He realized he could have her right then. There would be no resistance in her condition. But this was not how he wanted her. She had to be willing, wanting him, not incapacitated by drink. If he took her now, she might not even remember. If she did, she might be sorry later and despise him for taking advantage of her. He wanted no guilt, no recriminations. And for some reason, it was important that she remember.
Hell, where did all these noble sentiments come from? He still had every intention of seducing her. If he was going to be unscrupulous, he ought to do it right.
Sharisse sighed, having fallen asleep again. Lucas smiled wistfully. Not tonight, honey, but soon. His lips brushed her forehead, and he carried her to her room.
She woke when he laid her on the bed and began to remove her shoes. “I can do that,” she protested.
She sat up too quickly and, overcome with dizziness, fell back. Lucas grinned.
“Just think of me as your lady’s maid,” he told her, dropping her shoes on the floor. “I’m sure you had one.”
“But you don’t look anything like Jenny.” She found that very funny and giggled. She didn’t notice the removal of her cape but leaned forward so he could get at the buttons down her back. “I’m glad she’s not here now, or I would really be in for an earful. She doesn’t approve of drinking, you see, and—” She gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me your brother was a killer?”
“Because he isn’t.”
“But he’s killed hundreds of men!”
“Hundreds?”
“Well, dozens, but what’s the difference?”
“You’ve been listening to gossip, Sharisse.” He grinned as he lifted her off the bed so he could slip the gown out from under her. She didn’t notice.
“I couldn’t help but listen. My God, to think you called him a black sheep!That’sputting it rather mildly, isn’t it? You could have warned me.”
