She cried out in rage and surprise when he moved with ungodly speed, catching hold of her bodice, ripping the white gown cleanly down the center. She tried to slam her hands against his chest, but he was too quick, catching her wrists, staring at her as she stared back at him. He eased his hold on her wrists.
She shook, still meeting his green gaze, making no move.
“How dare you?” she grated out furiously.
He leaned over her, pinching out the light of the candle with his thumb and forefinger. Then his body covered her like a blanket, his fingers winding around her wrists and bringing them to her side, exposing her bare flesh to his. His skin sleek and hot against her own. She felt the pounding of his heart, the ripple and form of muscle.
“You told me if I wanted a wife, I would have a wife. Your words, your promise. Tonight, I want a wife.” She was startled by the tension in his features above her in the near darkness. She swallowed hard, twisting her face from his in the darkness. Dreading his touch, anticipating it, yearning for it. What could she possibly do now? Revise at this late moment what she had said before? You may have a wife anytime you want, just as long as you touch no other woman.
Let him know that unbidden jealousy tore at her heart. It made no sense, really, but it was there.
She stared at him again. “Fine. You’re right. Take what you want. Any time. But again, I swear, I’ll give you nothing. Nothing. Until…”
She broke off, gasping. His lips were on her flesh. His mouth closing over her breast. Subtly stroking, moving, suckling. His hands…on her body. Thrusting between her thighs. His fingers touching, rubbing, parting…
She nearly cried out loud in anguish, but she willed herself to silence.
Just as she willed herself not to move. Not to give. Not to deny, but not to give…
Damn him.
The feel of his flesh, his lips and teeth, the stoke of his tongue. Damn his bold intimacy. Damn him, damn him, damn him. She clenched her teeth together hard. Tossed her head to the side. Felt him, felt sensations so newly awakened, so prepared to come awake again, flesh so tender, to be stroked, caressed, kissed…
Him. On top of her. Filling her. The feel, the friction, the speed, the fever—it was unbearable. She would not give! She’d have back her soul, please God…
In the end, she never made a voluntary move. She never had to. He had the satisfaction of feeling what she could not hide,the constriction that seized her, the trembling that shook her, the liquid heat encompassing him. But that was all. She gave nothing more. Nothing more at all. It didn’t seem to bother him. He reached his own climax, his body locked atop hers, once again, and again. He held there a long while, still within her. She refused to open her eyes. She barely breathed.
“How long will you play this game, I wonder?” he queried, studying her face when he withdrew from her at last. She turned her back on him, furious with men in general. They never seemed to understand anything.
“Have it your way then, Lady Douglas,” he said at last.
“Would you stop that mockery?” she demanded, still resentful that it seemed she had managed nothing more than to amuse him.
“Which mockery is that, since all seems mockery to you?”
“Lady Douglas.”
“You are Lady Douglas. You’ve been most insistent about informing me of that fact.”
“I will never be Lady Douglas to you,” she said, wishing she could draw away from him completely. She felt like an injured cat. She wished she could lick her wounds. But she could not. She could turn from him, but it seemed she couldn’t escape him completely.
He was silent a long moment. “Skylar,” he said. It was the first time she could ever remember his using her given name. She had even wondered at times if he remembered what it was.
He leaned over her shoulder in the shadows. She felt the brush of his ink-black hair against the flesh of her shoulder. “Skylar, you are mistaken. It seems you are Lady Douglas,” he told her, adding, “Indeed, you are to me and to everyone else.”
He shifted, turning his back on her. She lay in silence, wishing she could sleep. Wishing that she didn’t feel both the closeness of his body and the distance that lay between them.
Eventually, she slept. She dreamed. Distorted dreams that her mind couldn’t seem to hold on to. Yet sometime during the night, she woke, frightened, and not at all certain as to why she was afraid. She’d been alone, she thought. Alone, and she’d needed help so badly. She sat up, shivering.
“What is it?”
She jumped, startled. She wasn’t alone. He remained with her. He lay at her side, his dark head upon a white pillow, his eyes opened, seeing more in the darkness than she, she was certain.
“Nothing,” she whispered, swallowing uneasily.
“Come back to sleep.” It was more of an impatient command than an invitation, yet somehow…
There was something almost normally domestic about it.
