Jessie ignored the impertinent question, though her cheeks flamed. She fanned herself reflexively, unaware that she did. “How did you get back up?” Her treacherous knees began to wobble. Nor was he wet, she noticed, frowning.
Slowly, ruthlessly, he backed her toward the bed. “How else do you think, Jessamine? At my signal, my men hauled me up.”
“B-But I heard you fall,” she stammered, her legs buckling as the bed came up behind her unexpectedly.
He watched with ill-concealed amusement as she fell back upon it.
“I swear it—I shall scream!”
“And who do you think shall come?” he taunted, his voice little more than a whisper. “Your hobbling cousin? I very much doubt it, Jess. At any rate, you deserve a good lashing, and it was he who first suggested it,ma belle.”
“But you wouldn’t dare!”
Christian’s eyes gleamed with the devil’s own light. “Wouldn’t I?” he said, his jaw clenching.
“N-Nay! Y-You’d not dare!” she stammered, and truly hoped it was so. The look in his eyes, however, confirmed otherwise. He would, indeed, dare, and thoroughly enjoy it besides!
“I wish to God you had fallen!” Where she found the strength and courage to do so, she would never know, but she flew at him in that instant, her hands pummeling his chest. “I heard you fall!” she cried. “I know I did! Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you?”
Christian caught her hands with a single sweep of his own, stilling them against his chest. She felt his heart beating fiercely beneath her fingertips.
“Ah,ma pauvre petite,” he said huskily, “what a dreadful shame for you... Alas, but it was only my good boot you heard plummetin’ into the sea.” He nodded, his eyes glinting with arrogance. “Aye, my love, you did note I was missing one, did you not?” Her eyes shot him with cold contempt and he added, “Aye, I see that you have noticed. Tell me,m’mselle... should I take the price of them out on your pretty littlederriere?” He reached back as though to make good his threat, swatting her backside.
Jessie shrieked indignantly and began to struggle anew, twisting her arms to be free of the prison of his grip. In one swift motion, he lifted her and thrust her down upon the bed. He straddled her then, taking his sweet time so as to prove to her how very defenseless she was against him, that she would bend to his will even against her own.
He bent low over her, to look into her eyes, his own eyes gleaming ruthlessly, and she swallowed convulsively, never feeling more vulnerable than she did at the moment. And then his lips came nearer still, until she could feel the heat radiating from them, beckoning... and Lord help her, she wanted him topress his lips to her mouth, mold them to her own. Even as angry as she was with him, she found herself wistfully remembering the way his velvety tongue had felt within her mouth, so warm, so insistent, and her breath quickened.
She wanted to taste his fierce hunger... again... and again... and again... never to stop.
The sweetest ache began again to unfurl within the depth of her body, reaching deep into her soul, tautening the peaks of her breasts and making them ache for his touch.
If only he could touch his lips to them once more, tenderly now. If only...
She flushed crimson at her wanton thoughts.
But then, in that bittersweet instant, he shifted and came closer, brushing his lips against hers so very gently, too gently, almost as though that brief contact were part of his warning.
“I could have sworn,” he whispered, “that I’d told you once already... it would go all the easier for you did you simply stay out of my way. Do so... and you shall save us both much trouble... Do not... and you shall pay dearly... I swear it. My patience is at its end—doubt it not.”
Her mind dazed with his nearness and his whispered threats, she returned, “Really, m’lord...” She lifted a brow, mocking his imperious gesture. “What more can you take from me that you’ve not already?”
He laughed then, the sound ruthless, his breath searing the tender flesh of her lips. “More,” he swore, the threat no more than a whisper, “more, my naive little princess... so very, very much more.” And with that, he released her abruptly, lifting himself from the bed.
He sat on the edge, ignoring her, lifting his one booted foot to his knee to remove the shoe, and still Jessie dared not move. His boot slipped off, and he tossed it unceremoniously across the room, where it landed with a wrathful thud.
He rose from the bed abruptly and went to pour himself a snifter of brandy, tossing the contents down his throat and pouring himself another. Eyeing the bottle of Madeira that sat beside it, he lifted it, assessing the lack, and said, his back to her, “Well... as long as we are at it, then.” He lifted a clean goblet and poured her another glass of Madeira, bringing it to her and pressing it into her hands.
Then, with his own glass in hand, he strode to, and sprawled backward into, his blue damask throne of a chair. He sat there, ignoring her for the longest time as he finished his brandy. She sipped nervously of her Madeira, watching him all the while, as the sun continued its descent, leaving them finally bathed in little more than dusky shadows.
“You will light the lanterns?” she asked after a long, strained silence.
“Nay.” His gaze met and held hers across the shadows. He shook his head. “I came to sleep... yet here I find myself sitting instead, wondering just what it is I should do with you.”
Jessie sat numbly, not knowing what to say, unable to move, unable even to tear her gaze away from his much too stunning face. In the growing darkness, his features took on a sinister cast; his eyes seemed to glow by the light of the moon, and a shiver traveled her spine. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. What would he do? she found herself wondering—but to her shame, not without exhaling a shattering breath of anticipation.
“You plan to share my bed with me?” his husky voice inquired after a moment.
“O-Of course not!” she cried indignantly, but she was mortified to feel the flutter, the thrill, that raced through her body like wildfire.
