“I believe I answered that question earlier tonight,” she replied stiffly. “But before you doubt me any more, I should tell you that my father’s name is John Richards. Hammond was my married name.” How adept she was becoming. “I suppose I should have made that clear before, but it didn’t seem important.”
“Antoine Hammond?”
“Certainly not! I despise Antoine!” she said forcefully, losing her temper. Then she caught herself. “I suppose I mentioned Antoine, too, that night I drank too much?”
“You did.”
“What exactly did I say to make you think he was my husband?”
“You called him your love.”
“Oh,” she said. How was she going to explain that?
“Which is it, Sharisse?” he asked softly. “Did you love Antoine, or despise him?”
He ran a finger along her jaw, down her neck, to her shoulder, resting his hand there with just enough pressure to prevent her from turning away. He meant to hold her there until he got the answer. Maybe it was time for the truth, or part of it.
“Antoine was a man I met a long time ago, Lucas. I was young and naive, and he was worldly, romantic, and terribly handsome. I thought I was in love, when actually I had simply reached the age where I was ready to fall in love. So I was susceptible to the first man who extended any effort to win me. I realize that now, but at the time I was too enchanted to question anything.” Bitterness crept into her manner, and her eyes darkened with memory. “Antoine turned out to be a scoundrel of the worst kind, a liar, a deceiver. He…”
Sharisse blanched as she realized she had just described what she herself had become. If Lucas ever found out how she had lied to him, deceived him…
“He what?”
She lowered her eyes. “He…he wanted only one thing from me. Luckily I learned of his perfidy in time.”
“You mean you saved your virginity in time.” Her eyes flew back to meet his.
“Yes,” she replied softly.
“But you gave your heart away freely. I was under the misconception that your husband was the only man in your past. How many others did you fancy yourself in love with besides Antoine?”
Her temper was ignited by his teasing. How dare he make light of that humiliating experience? She was reminded of Fiona and how casually he treated his past dalliances. Yet he dared to question her?
She smiled sweetly and gave a little shrug. “You can’t expect me to answer such a question, Lucas. I’m not the sort of woman who keeps count.”
“That many, eh?” He chuckled.
She gritted her teeth in exasperation. The rogue. He knew very well what she was up to. But it was too late to change her tune now. And she still wanted to get his goat.
“Yes, that many. Can I help it if I’m fickle?”
He shook his head in mock sympathy. “So many loves, and only one husband to show for it—so far. So who do you love now, Shari?”
His lips closed over hers. He didn’t expect an answer. Love had nothing to do with them. He was the kind who wouldn’t care if she loved him, as long as he got what he wanted. But she wasn’t going to let him—not again. She didn’t want…him to…make love…
The moment her arms closed around his neck in surrender, Lucas swept her off her feet and carried her to her bed. His little virgin. She might not love him—and she might be an exceptional liar—but her body didn’t lie. She was his. For now, anyway.
Twenty-four
Sharisse stretched languorously and opened her eyes. It took her a moment to realize that the bare male chest she was looking at wasn’t alien to her anymore. She knew she should be appalled, devastated. To have shared her bed with a man all night, to wake up beside him just as if they were married when in fact they were not! He was not obliged to marry her just because he had taken her virginity. Why, he didn’t even know the truth about that.
Truly, she ought to have been a little indignant that he was still there in her bed, that he was getting all the benefits of a wife without actually binding himself to her, but the truth was that she would have been terribly disappointed if he had left after making such glorious love to her. And she rather liked having him there to snuggle close to.
She knew it would be dangerous for her to analyze why she felt the way she did. If she thought for a minute that she might be falling in love with Lucas, she would panic. No arrogant man like her father was going to control her for the rest of her life, even one whose arrogance was as subtle as Lucas’s.
No, it was safer to think she was perhaps immoral. Oh, not really in a bad sort of way. Good heavens, she was twenty, a woman with a mind of her own. Why should she have to wait until she found a husband to experience the ecstasy that Lucas had shown her? Why should she deny herself that pleasure just because they weren’t married?
Sharisse smiled at her rationalizations. She was really becoming corrupt. But just then, looking at the broad expanse of Lucas’s chest, she didn’t care.
