by Sharon Green
"Oh, I know they'll be good enough," she gushed as he began to lower his lips to her throat. She was really delighted to hear he hadn't been lying, but somehow she'd half-expected it. When it came to her, though, he was still holding things back. She'd given him a chance to tell her what he was up to, so it was his own fault that she had to go on with her plan. He needed to be taught a lesson, and the opportunity was right here.
"Oh, I know they'll be good enough, because we trained together as children," she said, then reached to the side to take his arm. "Come sit down and I'll tell you a little about that time."
A peculiar combination of expressions flitted across his face, as though he was delightfully surprised that she wanted to talk to him, but he kept silent as he let her lead him to a settle covered with a brown leather bench pad. The brown was one of the calm places in the sea of gold and rose that covered the room, but the settle itself was one of the most uncomfortable pieces of furniture Rianne had ever encountered.
"Isn't this better than just standing there?" she asked brightly as they sat. "I've never been able to tell anyone about what the three of us did as children, so I'm really going to enjoy this. You will too, when you begin to understand just how valuable Cam and Angus will be to you."
His expression seemed to suggest he'd been hoping for a more intimate conversation than that particular topic, but he also seemed determined not to discourage her in any way. What he probably wanted to talk about was the way he'd already become aroused, but that wasn't part of her plan. Rianne had been told how … deflating it was for a man bent on pleasure to need to listen to a lot of pointless chatter. It would be interesting to see how long her husband could stand it before he admitted defeat in the game.
She launched into the story of her childhood adventures with her brothers, carefully choosing the most boring instances she could think of. She would know she had him when he began to yawn, but he didn't seem quite to that point yet. If anything he seemed to be thinking, which might be the best reaction possible. The sooner he decided to tell her what he was up to with all that attention he'd been paying her, the sooner they could get on to topics he liked better. Like how soon they would get to bed. Not that she had any strong interest in that…
"Excuse me," he said after a number of minutes, during which Rianne had gone on and on. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I have a question. Did you just say that you and the others swore a blood oath to always keep your word? That you would be careful about giving your word, but once given it would always be kept?"
"Why … yes," she answered hesitantly, honestly not quite sure. That was something she and the others had done, but she hadn't meant to make such a point of it. Rianne wasn't paying attention herself to what she babbled; that would have put her to sleep sooner than her intended victim.
"Then I'm afraid it's my painful duty to inform you that there's an instance where you didn't keep your word to me." He now looked at her with commiseration, and quickly held up a hand when she tried to speak. "No, there's no need to apologize, I'm sure you've simply forgotten. Not to mention the fact that you've hardly had the opportunity. A woman like you… I can't imagine you refusing to do the right thing as soon as humanly possible. Am I wrong?"
"Of course not!" Rianne told the earnest gray eyes looking down at her, suddenly very confused. "But what are you talking about? What did I give my word to do that I haven't?"
"I feel - very awkward - talking about it," he said as though it were a shameful admission, turning his face away. "It was probably a mistake to bring the matter up in the first place, but - Well, never mind. I've waited this long, so waiting a little longer won't kill me. Go on with what you were saying."
"I will not!" Rianne protested, more than a little scandalized. "If I've failed to keep my word about something, I want to hear about it. You can't just bring the subject up and then drop it, pretending it's unimportant. You know it's not unimportant."
"I hope you'll forgive me, but I know something else even better," he said, turning his face back to look at her. "If we start going into this now, you'll just end up being angry with me again. I know you will, and I didn't come here tonight to argue. If you'll do me the favor of forgetting about the matter until tomorrow, we'll both be a lot happier."
"How am I supposed to forget about it now?" she asked, trying not to show how exasperated she felt. "I can't forget, so you'll just have to tell me."
"And cut my own throat?" he countered with a snort. "Do I look that stupid to you?"
"All right, I promise not to get angry," she said, seizing the idea as soon as it came to her. "I'll give you my word not to get angry, but only if you tell me right now. Is it a deal?"
"Little one, you almost make me ashamed of myself," he answered with a sigh that looked real. And was that a flicker of pain in his eyes? Why on earth would he feel hurt…? "I'm accepting your deal, but only to teach you not to play games with me. I've been doing this longer than you have, so there's experience to back up strong natural talent. I really don't want to be your enemy."
"Would you like to tell me what all that was supposed to mean?" she asked with a sinking feeling. He couldn't have fooled her again, he couldn't have…
"When I first brought you here, I took your clothes off to put you in a bath," he said, those gray eyes directly on her. "While I was doing it you swore to get even with me, and I thanked you for promising to take my clothes off. Since you didn't say that wasn't what you meant, I was entitled to believe it was. You promised to take my clothes off, and haven't done it yet. I'm guessing, of course, but I expect I'd enjoy that a good deal more than listening to stories even you have no interest in. And remember: you gave your word not to get angry."
In spite of having given her word, Rianne simmered on the inside. Most of her anger was directed at herself, for having fallen to him so easily again, but the rest was all his. He enjoyed making her feel like a fool, treating her in a way no other man had ever dared. What she wanted right now was to get him as furiously angry as he'd gotten her, and then she could sit back and laugh…
"I remember the time you're talking about," she told him at last, only a step away from a growl. "You're right about my having given my word, but you left something out. I said I'd get even before I died, not at the very first opportunity. There is a difference, you know."
"Yes, I suppose there is," he granted, the expression in his eyes flickering. "I hadn't thought of that, but I can see where you would. And since your word isn't in immediate jeopardy of being broken, I can also see that we'll be putting off keeping the promise."
"Not at all," Rianne disagreed at once, and had the pleasure of seeing him actually startled. "There's no sense in putting off what has to be done at some time, especially when we're in the midst of the perfect opportunity. We'll take care of the matter right now."
His confused and disbelieving stare followed her as she rose, wariness lowering his brows. Good, he had no idea what she was up to. If it worked out just right, he'd find out at the same time he lost that infuriatingly even temper…
Rianne stood close to the settle beside his legs, and reached forward. The silver ribbon tying back his long, dark-red hair was the first thing to go. She hadn't intended to run her fingers through his hair in order to loosen it, but the hair was so thick and magnificent she found she couldn't resist. It spread to the shoulders of his dressing gown, framing him in a mane of sullen fire.
Next came his cravat, its lacy white looking even whiter against the blue of his dressing gown. The cravat was tucked into the front of his gown rather than secured inside, and so slid free with no effort at all. Her hands loosened it at his throat, then drew it off slowly from around his broad, tanned neck. And still he hadn't made a sound. Those cold gray eyes, no longer quite so cold, hadn't left her face, but there weren't any words to go with the stare. When she reached down to the belt of his gown he made a very small sound in the back of his throat, but that was all. She knew he was aware of the way her brea
sts pushed against her gown when she bent, but his gaze stayed locked to her face. Because of that she was carefully controlling her expression, but controlling what she felt was beyond her. She had no idea why it was happening, but slowly undressing this man was sending her up in flames. In another moment her blood would probably begin to boil, but stopping was unthinkable for more reasons than one.
Finally she was able to push open his dressing gown. Beneath the blue velvet was tanned flesh over corded muscle, dark-red hair on a chest as broad as a stallion's, thick arms that strained against the material covering them. Lower down was his desire, a raging lance that quivered with barely controlled impatience, and a quick glance was all Rianne had the courage for. She was in the midst of playing with deadly fire, and had no need to thrust her hand in to know how badly she could be burned.
The dressing gown was somewhat difficult to remove without the active help of the man wearing it, but Rianne finally managed to do it. It was still behind and under him, but it was definitely and completely off. She'd had to touch his warm, hard body more than once, and her struggle to keep from thinking about that wasn't entirely successful. But she had to keep at it, since there was still the finishing touch to add…
"And that, I think, fulfills all promises made or assumed," she said when it was finally done, shaking her hair back from her shoulders and arms and pretending she hadn't begun to sweat. Out of the corner of her eye she saw those big hands beginning to rise toward her waist, and therefore moved fast to regain her former seat. "Now, of course, we have to test the rest of your guess."
"Guess?" he echoed, his voice a thick rumble of utter confusion. "What in hell are you talking about?"
"You said you were only guessing that you would prefer having me take your clothes off to listening to uninteresting stories," she reminded him with a faint smile. "You've just experienced having your clothes taken off, and now you need to experience being talked to. You interrupted me when I'd barely begun."
Stunned understanding flashed in two pools of molten gray ice, followed immediately by an eruption of fire. He'd obviously expected to go from being undressed to making love to her, and now he'd have to wait while he sat and listened. After all, he was the one who had started that game, and if he didn't follow through he would lose…
"To the devil with that," he growled suddenly, the fury increasing. "I don't know what you're made of, woman, but I'm not made the same. All stories and games are over."
And then his arms were under her and lifting her as he stood, once again making it seem that she weighed nothing. Rianne gasped in surprise and clutched at him, but dropping her wasn't part of his intention. Or at least not dropping her on the floor. He strode to the bed, tossed her in, then followed immediately. She squeaked when she hit the quilt, but she really should have moaned. No matter how much of a hurry he was in, her own desire suddenly insisted he was going too slowly.
Before she could move, his hands were at her robe, ripping it open, just before they did the same to her gown. Dark-red hair fell about his shoulders where he knelt above her, and then his lips touched her breast and his hands caressed her hips. Rianne's breath caught in her throat when his tongue touched her nipple, when his stroking fingers slid across her flesh, when his manhood brushed her thigh. He'd literally ripped the clothes from off her, but it had been nothing like what she'd once imagined. Right now it was intensely stimulating, especially since it was also what she'd been ready to demand.
Against her will her eyes closed, and her clutching hands found the thickness of his mane. Oh, God, what his mouth and hands were doing to her! Lips and tongue that turned her boneless and melting, fingers that stroked with a knowledge of absolute possession. He was trying to arouse her, thinking he would force her to feel what he already did, having no idea she was way ahead of him. Her blood was boiling, and he was the only one who could make it stop.
And then his fist was in her hair, holding her still for his kiss. Those lips tried to swallow her even as they demanded a response, but again she was ahead of him. Her own kiss was even more demanding as he crushed her to him, stealing the very air from her lungs. When his other hand touched her intimately, probing for her heat, she nearly choked. Why was he delaying? Why didn't he hurry up and get to it?
And then, blessedly, he did. His knee forced its way between hers, the rest of him followed, and then his spear was sheathing itself inside her. She tried to cry out, in triumph over having been given what she wanted so badly, but his lips refused to allow it. He held her to him and began to stroke deep and hard, possessing her completely and making her mind spin away to a land of blinding frenzy. He brought her satisfaction more than once, and the last of it was shared.
Afterward, while he lay on his back beside her, panting as though he'd run miles, she drew in air more quietly to ease her weary lungs. Although he'd done most of the work, her body hadn't found the time effortless. On the contrary, an hour of sword practice was less tiring.
But not more incredible. At first she felt somewhat wide-eyed over having been impatient with a man so wildly aroused, especially one who had lost his temper. That wasn't the way a lady was supposed to feel, but it had gotten her exactly what she'd needed and wanted -
Lost his temper! That meant he'd also lost the game, which made Rianne even more delighted. She hated the way he always had control of himself, the way he rarely lost patience with her. Keeping your temper with someone you don't care about is easy, and Rianne had no need of additional reminders that that was the case with her. She'd made him lose that temper, and so for a while had been able to forget that it was only her body he wanted. For the time they'd been locked together, she'd been able to pretend…
And she'd never forget what they'd shared. It seemed that even though he'd been as mindless with desire as she, he hadn't been able to keep from sharing with her, rather than simply taking. Realizing that turned the experience into one that made her stretch lazily with a silent purr.
"I wonder why you look like you're congratulating yourself," his voice came, and then he was leaning over her to her left. Propped up on one elbow he was still wiping off sweat, and that made her smile even more.
"Why shouldn't I congratulate myself?" she asked languidly. "I just behaved like a full wife, and it took almost no effort at all. That was our deal, wasn't it?"
"It wasn't part of our deal for you to goad me into all but attacking you," he came back with annoyance. "Don't you have any idea how dangerous it can be for a woman to do that?"
"Then next time I'll have to be more careful," she allowed blandly, enjoying the situation even more. He'd hated losing his temper, but she'd made it happen. He might have no true feelings for her at all, but it would take him a while to forget her.
He swallowed down whatever else he might have said, and simply got out of the bed. Rianne thought he intended to gather his things together and leave, but instead he turned down all the lamps but one. That one was left to burn dimly, giving him enough light to make his way back to the bed.
"When we get to London, I'll have to replace that ensemble," he said, glancing at the now-ruined robe and gown she'd worn. Then he got under the quilt and continued, "Until I do, you'll just have to join me under here like any good full wife."
Rianne hesitated only a moment, then did as he'd said. So he was going to buy her another ensemble, was he? She wanted to ask if it would be another to wear or another to rip off, but decided against it. Some triumphs are sweeter when they're left undiscussed. His presence under the quilts was an unaccustomed awareness; as she began to make herself comfortable, she wondered if it would be possible to experience that shared insanity a second time before they parted forever…
Chapter Twelve
The coach's speed was brisk enough, but Bryan, looking out the window on his side, wished it could be two or three times faster. Or maybe he would prefer if it was two or three times slower. The whirling indecision inside him was something he was completely unused to. If it
didn't stop soon…
But how could it stop? The cause of the feeling sat right there on the coach seat beside him, looking out her own window. Her travel outfit was brown and tan, the long skirts covering most of her short, soft boots; her hands were properly gloved, her hair neatly coiled beneath a charming tan hat. She looked like a very beautiful, very proper woman, nothing at all like the naked and passionate girl who had shared his bed.
Now that had been something beyond all his expectations! Bryan felt the urge to loosen his cravat at the memory; he also had to tell himself sternly that this was neither the time nor the place. They would be in London soon enough, and his house would be ready by the time they got there. The messenger he'd sent off yesterday would have alerted his town staff, and there might even be some of the answers he was after…
I don't believe this, Bryan thought, removing his tricorn to let some of the breeze from their passage cool his face. I've spent years following this trail, and now that I'm almost to the end of it it's all I can do to pay attention. My mind keeps shifting to a beautiful face with green eyes, surrounded by incredible golden-red hair…
And that magnificent white body. It had been sheathed in a cloud of silver shadow when she'd shocked him by beginning to take his clothes off. He'd known almost from the first moment she'd begun chattering at him that she was up to something. He'd been pleased at first that she was actually willing to talk to him, as if she now considered him someone to confide in.
Then it had hurt when it became clear she was only playing some unknowable game, and he'd chosen that nonsense about an unkept word to teach her a lesson. It had been certain that she would promise not to be angry in order to find out what he was talking about… She'd promised and then had gotten angry anyway… But rather than staying angry, she'd -