by Carol Finch
"You told me to sound convincing," Dominic reminded her, his tone laced with wicked amusement. "I upheld my end of the bargain and now you must uphold yours. You promised that I would be compensated for my time and trouble and I intend to hold you to that vow, cherie."
The devilish grin on his sensuous lips evoked a suspicious frown from Rozalyn. She had the sinking feeling that Dominic lacked moral fiber and he anticipated something other than gold coin in payment for services rendered. He was crazed if he thought she would submit to some outlandish request.
When his hand dropped away from her mouth, Rozalyn flung him an icy glare, but Dominic showed no sign of frostbite, much to her dismay. He merely shrugged and flicked an imaginary fleck of lint from the sleeve of his waistcoat.
"Well, what price do you demand?" Rozalyn asked tersely. "I will decide if it is reasonable compensation. And once you have escorted me to Grand’mere's dinner party, we will associate no more."
"No?" One thick brow tilted to a taunting angle. "And how will you explain that distressing news to the grande dame? You saw for yourself that the possibility of seeing you wed took ten years off her life. Your disappointing announcement will have her teetering with one foot in the grave."
A deliciously wicked grin rippled across Rozalyn's lips as she raked Dominic with a scornful glance. "You know of my infamous reputation, monsieur. It would be a shame if you met with a fatal accident on the eve of our wedding. My grandmother would be heartbroken by the news, but she would be too busy consoling her bereaved granddaughter to think of herself."
It was Dominic's turn to eye this feisty chit warily. He could have sworn by the devilish gleam in her eyes that she would derive sinful pleasure from disposing of him. He had heard enough about Rozalyn DuBois to know that it was suicidal to underestimate her. The only way to counteract her threat was to turn the tables on her, and he intended to do just that. Without bothering to respond, he promptly spun about and marched back up the steps to Lenore Rabelais' manor.
"What do you think you're doing?" Rozalyn questioned.
"I'm going to inform your grandmother that you and I are strangers and that you dreamed up this scheme to deceive her," he threw over his shoulder.
Rozalyn made a face at his departing back, muttered several disrespectful epithets, and then heaved a defeated sigh. "Very well, Dominic, it seems my hands are tied. You leave me no choice but to become a victim of blackmail."
Instantly, Dominic reversed direction and, beaming with self-satisfaction, strutted down the steps like a haughty peacock out for a morning stroll. Rozalyn was itching to pluck out his tail feathers, one by one. The scoundrel! He had incredible nerve. Damn him for backing her into a corner and stalking about her like a mountain lion toying with his prey.
"What is it you expect for playing my beloved beau?" she queried, her tone acrid with anger. "And do try to be reasonable ... if that is possible for a man like you."
A sly smile slid across his full lips, and cupping her chin in his hand, he brought it down a notch. "My dear Rozalyn, I am not in a position that dictates compromise. You are." He chuckled at her exaggerated pout. "I will inform you of the sort of payment that will satisfy me and you will reimburse me for my trouble. If you don't, I will march back to Madame Rabelais and expose you for the liar you are. And that, amie, will break the old woman's heart."
"You, sir, are no gentleman!" Rozalyn hissed venomously, struggling not to scream at him.
"Nor did I claim to be," Dominic calmly reminded her. "If that was one of your qualifications you should have inquired about the matter before you hauled me up behind you and carted me to your grandmother's doorstep. Really, amie, you are much too impulsive to be so particular."
Her eyes burned with scorching blue flames. "Oh, how I would love to—"
"Temper, temper," Dominic scolded in an infuriatingly mocking tone.
Temper be damned! Rozalyn bared her claws and stalked toward him, but he flung up a hand to forestall her. Nodding his raven head toward the front door, he silently reminded Rozalyn that he was still within shouting distance of Lenore. When Rozalyn begrudgingly retracted her claws, Dominic arrogantly drew himself up in front of her. Then, clasping his hands behind him, he addressed her with a taunting smile. "Now, love, will you pay me for my time and trouble or shall I run and tattle to Grand’mere?"
Rozalyn clenched her fists in the folds of her skirt. Oh, how she itched to put this conniving rascal in his place. But Dominic, scoundrel that he was, had backed her into a corner, leaving her no way to retreat. How she detested being outmaneuvered, especially by a man. It infuriated her to watch him gloat over her predicament. He was taking pleasure at her expense and Rozalyn deeply resented it.
"I will pay cash for my mistake in summoning your assistance," she grumbled, fishing into her purse to retrieve sufficient funds.
Instantly, Dominic's long, lean fingers folded around her wrist to restrain her, and an ornery smile dangled from one corner of his mouth. "I cannot be bought with cold, hard cash, my dear." Meeting her perturbed glare, he told her bluntly, "It is you I want and I will settle for nothing less."
Rozalyn had been afraid he was going to say something like that. The blackguard. Her temper came to a boil and her eyes blazed up like a forest fire. Yanking her hand from his grasp, she fumed. "Surely you don't think I will become your human sacrifice. If you do, you are utterly mad!"
Again her voice rose until she was all but shouting into his grinning face. Dominic pressed his index finger to her pouting lips before she drew a crowd. "There must be a first time in every woman's life. I see no reason why this shouldn't be it. That seems fair compensation for portraying your devoted lackey. And for your information, cherie, I am as sane as you are," he assured her with a smug smile.
"That has yet to be determined." Rozalyn glared daggers at his broad chest. "If you think for one minute I will allow myself to be hornswoggled into your bed to serve your lusty needs, you'd better think again, Dominic Baudelair. I want nothing to do with you!"
"Then you did not enjoy our previous embrace?" His tone implied that he would not believe her if she responded negatively, not after the way she had melted in his arms. "Come now, Rozalyn. Be honest with yourself." She could deny the attraction to appease her stubborn pride, but Dominic had known the moment his lips met hers that a spark of passion had leaped between them.
"I would have vehemently protested your kisses and bold caresses if Grand’mere had not been sitting there watching us," she declared. "Regardless of your high opinion of yourself, you are not God's gift to women. Indeed, you have the personality of a snake!"
Without preamble, Dominic pulled her into his arms, intent on proving her a liar. His mouth swooped down on hers, stealing her breath and the objection she most certainly would have voiced.
"The grande dame is watching us from the window," he whispered. "Be convincing, Roz. We don't want Lenore to see us having a lover's spat on her front lawn."
Rozalyn melted against him like snow thawed by a campfire, her arms curling instinctively about his broad shoulders, and before she was aware of what she was doing she was kissing him back! Mon Dieu. What was the matter with her? She and Dominic had been in the middle of a trenchant argument. She had only to pretend that she enjoyed his fiery kiss. But no, the flame of anger had been transformed into passion, and she'd instantly warmed to this rogue's touch. Rozalyn wondered if she actually felt something for him. That is impossible, she told herself. She had just met Dominic and she wasn't even sure she liked him.
As his arms tightened about her, pulling her full length against his muscular frame, his blazing kiss ebbed, and lips as gentle as the summer wind whispered over hers, eliciting an unwilling response. He had abandoned forcefulness for tender seduction. His probing tongue traced the inner softness of her lips and then intruded into the sweet darkness of her mouth. Tiny shards of pleasure tingled beneath her skin as Dominic's masculine body moved sensuously against her, allowing her to fee
l the hungry need she'd aroused in him.
A knot of desire uncoiled deep inside Rozalyn, but the sensation baffled her. She chastised herself for surrendering so easily to his embrace when she knew full well what he expected in return for portraying her beau.
When Dominic abruptly broke their kiss, Rozalyn blinked bewilderedly, and when he withdrew his supporting arms, she had to regain her equilibrium. My, but his kisses had a strange effect on her.
"I will be expecting you to come to me tonight, petite nymphe," he murmured, his flaming emerald eyes holding her hostage. "I am staying at my grandparents' estate. I will send a coach for you."
Rozalyn could not seem to take her eyes off his bronzed face. He held her captive with his probing gaze, forcing her to consent, though her mind was screaming no. Had she lost what little sense she had been born with? She couldn't traipse off to a stranger's home, knowing full well what he expected of her. Yet could she refuse when this scoundrel would go straight to Lenore and spill the truth?
A thoughtful frown knitted Rozalyn's brow while she' studied the smile lines that crinkled his tanned features and considered her alternatives. Despite a long line of suitors she had kept her innocence intact by using her wits, she reminded herself. There were ways to deal with men who used women for their lusty purposes. She would somehow maneuver this rakehell into agreeing to escort her to her grandmother's party. All she had to do was give the matter serious consideration. She would approach it calmly and rationally, but once she had maneuvered Dominic into doing her bidding she was going to have him strung up on the tallest tree in St. Louis. He deserved no better for treating her so badly. It would be interesting to see just how arrogant Dominic Baudelair would be when his neck was stretched out like a giraffe's.
"I will await your carriage," she promised, determined not to part on a sour note since she desperately needed his assistance.
"Shall we say eight o'clock?" Dominic curled his index finger beneath her chin, tilting her face to his and noting the flareup of mischief in those mystical blue eyes. She was scheming, he realized. What prank did this fiery beauty have in store for him? You will find out soon enough, he warned himself. He made a mental note to be prepared for whatever deviltry this witch was brewing.
"Eight it is," she confirmed. Her curious gaze drifted to the window above them. Had her grandmother truly been spying on them or had Dominic manipulated her into his arms like a spider spinning a treacherous web around a defenseless fly?
His face brightened with mischievous glee when he noticed where her eyes had strayed. Chuckling, Dominic pivoted away to swagger down the street. "I lied," he confessed in an unrepentant tone. "The beldame wasn't really watching us. I wanted one last kiss to sustain me until tonight."
Furious red splashed across Rozalyn's cheeks, and she glanced hurriedly about in search of some weapon to hurl at the cunning Dominic, but she found nothing, not even a rock. Muttering under her breath, she mounted her stallion and flew down the street, silently listing the flaws in Dominic's character—and there are plenty of them, she thought.
Dominic dived sideways as Rozalyn thundered past, not about to risk having hoofprints on his back. He figured only a fool would underestimate Rozalyn DuBois. After she had galloped away, her skirt billowing in the wind, her raven hair trailing behind her, Dominic rolled to his feet. Snickering, he watched the tempestuous Rozalyn disappear around the corner. He had stumbled upon a most unusual woman, the like of which he had never known. This lovely hoyden had blown into his life like a misdirected whirlwind, sweeping him into the eye of a storm.
Yet this blue-eyed spitfire fascinated him. She was a strange concoction—part desirable woman, part temperamental child. The freshness of youth sparkled in her sky-blue eyes, and her smiles radiated like the sun. Still, Rozalyn DuBois was a contradiction of everything he had come to anticipate in a woman. She was a curious enigma. The fairer sex had always come willingly into his arms, and often uninvited. But not Rozalyn. She was fighting her attraction to him, stubbornly, defiantly. What was she so afraid of? Why was she so defensive? Dominic had expected to find a cold, impassive maid in his arms after the rumors he had heard. But he had discovered that beneath her heavy coat of armor lurked a warm, passionate woman. He knew he would not be satisfied until they had shared far more than a kiss.
A grin of roguish anticipation rippled across his lips. Tonight he would sample that gorgeous vixen's charms.
After he had played the charade for Lenore he might even . . . Dominic shook away such thoughts. He would let tomorrow take care of itself. After all, tonight was foremost in his mind. Once he had shared intimate moments with this young woman from the St. Louis' debutante, he might become bored with her. Few women held his interest for any length of time. He had been born under a wandering star and he wanted no entangling bonds to trip him up. He was an adventurer who thrived in the wild. He had an aversion to being hobbled by a female. Still, Rozalyn had piqued his curiosity, she was a challenge. Once he had satisfied his curiosity he would be on his merry way.
Dominic broke stride and very nearly stumbled over his own feet, when a troubled thought shot through his mind, sending his soaring spirits plunging. Christ, he had thought himself so clever in his dealings with Rozalyn yet he'd failed to realize he had waded in over his head. He had been so distracted by her beauty that he had neglected to consider that he was not dealing with just any woman. How could he force Rozalyn into his bed when he had important business with Aubrey DuBois? The last thing he needed was to have Rozalyn running to her father and claiming that he'd made improper advances. Then he wouldn't be able to persuade Aubrey to lower his prices.
Confound it, that changed everything! Dominic had backed this lovely sprite into a corner, but he had failed to notice that he had crowded himself into one. Why the devil had he consented to assist her in this harebrained scheme? Because the beast within him had been drawn to her curvaceous body and flawless face. Fool! Dominic berated himself. How the devil was he going to worm his way out of this mess without alienating Rozalyn? Dammit, he needed her assistance as much as she needed his.
Grappling with these disturbing thoughts, Dominic aimed himself toward the Baudelair estate, intending to spend the afternoon considering the repercussions of dallying with this raven-haired she-cat. He was playing with fire, and if he wasn't careful, he'd get burned. Like it or not, he would have to handle this blue-eyed hellion like fragile crystal. That had never been his way in the past, but circumstances were forcing him to turn over a new leaf in his dealings with women—Rozalyn in particular. She stood squarely between him and Aubrey DuBois. However, he could not allow her to know that, for she would use that knowledge as a weapon. And, judging by what Dominic had learned about this wily vixen in the taverns on the wharf, Rozalyn DuBois needed no more weapons at her disposal.
Wouldn't it be ironic if she fell in love with him and then aided him in his dealings with Aubrey? Dominic began to consider the possibility. If he set out to charm this minx, her attachment to him would make her vulnerable. Then she would do exactly as he commanded. It would serve such a free-spirited lass right to find herself infatuated after she'd left a string of broken hearts in her wake. A wry smile slanted across Dominic's lips. He would play the perfect gentleman, cater to Rozalyn, dote over her without wallowing at her feet. He would woo her, become her champion in her hour of need. Then she would return the favor without realizing that Dominic had carefully sought to obtain her allegiance.
Grinning in satisfaction, he veered toward his estate, intent on planning his encounter with Rozalyn. Before I finish with that wildcat I will have her purring like a kitten, he promised himself. I will do so for an important purpose, Dominic rationalized when his conscience flared. He was the spokesman for the hunters and trappers. Their livelihood depended on him. So, on the wings of self-righteousness, Dominic strode up the steps of the huge stone manor. Quietly, he shut the door behind him, then he began to calculate his tactics for the upcoming evening
.
Rozalyn had very nearly worn a path in the plush carpet of her boudoir with her frustrated pacing. Her good fortune in finding a rake to fit her description of the man of her dreams had, in actuality, been a stroke of rotten luck. If Dominic Baudelair had an ounce of decency he would never had insisted that she compromise her virtue in payment for his assistance. The longer she paced, the more furious she became.
How could she pretend to be civil to Dominic when she must constantly fight the urge to pound him flat and float him down the Mississippi? The cad! How dare he suggest that she spread herself beneath him to compensate for his time and trouble. How dare he threaten to expose her to her grandmother.
He wasn't dealing with some simple-minded twit who could be manipulated and who would not think to retaliate when he became familiar with her right under Lenore's nose. This rogue will not outmaneuver me, Rozalyn thought belligerently. She was strong willed and she had a temper. She was not about to allow a conniving rake to twist her around his little finger.
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and impatiently tapped her foot, waiting for a scheme to hatch in her mind. There had to be a way out of this mess. If she didn't panic, an idea would eventually come to her. This wasn't the first time she had found herself in scrape, she calmly reminded herself. She must somehow win Dominic's affection, keep him dangling like a puppet on a string until the engagement party was over. Then she could tell him exactly what she thought of him and of his skullduggery. After wishing him a one-way trip to hell, she would then run to her grandmother and play the betrayed, heartbroken lover. Lenore would think no less of her granddaughter if the disengagement was presented as Dominic's idea.
But how was she to keep Dominic at arm's length when he approached her like cavalry responding to a bugle call? Dominic Baudelair was as bold as he was handsome, and it was obvious that what he wanted from a woman he took. And what he wanted from her had nothing to do with love or affection. Not that she gave a fig whether or not he fell in love with her . . . the possibility lingered in her mind and a deliciously mischievous smile caught the corners of Rozalyn's mouth, lifting them upward. That was the answer! If Dominic found himself attracted to her, that attraction might evolve into affection. He would be more considerate of her feelings then, wouldn't he? She would love to have that lion of a man eating out of the palm of her hand instead of licking his lips in anticipation of devouring her. But Rozalyn was not in the habit of manipulating others to achieve the ends she desired. She had always been bold and direct, not underhanded and scheming, so her conscience bothered her. But I am not dealing with the usual situation or the normal breed of man, she hastily reminded herself.