by Andrea Kane
“Spare me the details!” George exclaimed. He turned to Dane. “Get dressed and join me in my study at once.”
Jacqui winced, wondering if she would ever learn to control her impulsive tongue and volcanic temper. “I’ve never seen him like that,” she murmured, staring after her father. “God, Dane, what have I done to him?”
Dane had been struggling to contain the shout of laughter elicited by Jacqui’s shear audacity. But the ache in her voice obliterated his smile, tore at his heart. Abruptly, he dropped his clothes and turned to her, took her shoulders in his hands. “Don’t you dare choose this moment to become conventional, Jacqueline. First of all, you have done nothing. We have. Second, there is no reason for us to be ashamed. We both know how right this is between us … how real.” He paused, drawing a slow inward breath, alerting Jacqui to the magnitude of his next words. “Jacqueline … marry me,” he said quietly.
Seeing her stupefied expression, the intent look on his face softened and he caressed the satiny skin of her shoulders with strong, tender fingers. “I did not expect that I would propose in this manner either, chaton. I would have preferred a more romantic setting, such as strolling in a fragrant garden at sunset or”—his teeth gleamed wickedly—“lying together before a roaring fire.” He ran his fingers through the thick waves of her hair, lifting her face to meet the warm humor in his gaze. “But, given the fact that your father is readying his pistol in preparation for my demise, I believe that to wait would be a bit imprudent.”
When she still didn’t reply but continued to gape at him, the tenderness faded from his eyes and he scowled. “Surely you are not totally dumbfounded by my proposal, Jacqueline. Lord knows, there was never anything casual about our relationship. The simple truth is that we are hopelessly unable to stay away from each other. We also cannot go on as we are.” He glanced pointedly down at their naked bodies, barely concealed by the thin layer of rumpled bedcovers. “Which leads us to but one solution … marriage.” He stroked his thumbs across her cheeks, attempting to allay her fears. “I know the way you feel … felt …” he corrected, “about marriage. But surely by now you know that I have no intention of changing you, or trying to usurp your independence.” He paused meaningfully. “All I ask is for your respect … and your honesty. Both of which we already have between us, do we not?”
His words struck home, penetrating Jacqui’s dazed, cluttered mind. She swallowed convulsively.
“Jacqueline?” His hands tightened on her face.
She stared up at him, dizzied by her conflicting thoughts. She was shocked by his unexpected proposal, appalled by her own pleasurable reaction to receiving it … and sickened by the implication of his last words.
Honesty. With that sole utterance, reality descended upon Jacqui, seized her, extinguished all else that had occurred tonight. For she knew that, in truth, there could never be total honesty between them. So there could be nothing at all.
Dane saw the myriad emotions flash in her eyes: confusion, pain, conflict … and guilt.
It was the guilt that tore at him. “Jacqueline … what is it?” He wished he could climb into her stubborn head and drag out the answers he sought. “Once and for all, tell me what you’re keeping from me! I have a right to know, damn it!” He shook her, exasperation and fury converging into an onslaught of emotion.
She looked away from him, unwilling to see his blazing rage, unable to escape the accuracy of his words. Yes, as her husband he would have a right to know … everything. And the point was a moot one, for, even if she chose to defy him, to keep her activities shrouded in secrecy, how long would it take an astute man like Dane to guess the truth? In either case, it would mean the death of Jack Laffey. As her husband, Dane would have every right to forbid her to continue writing her column and would make certain, whatever the cost, that his orders were obeyed.
No, she could never wed Dane, nor, after being discovered with him in her own bed, could they continue as lovers. Which left no recourse but to bring whatever was between them to an end.
Slowly but firmly, Jacqui locked her fingers around Dane’s wrists and pulled his hands away. “You are right, Dane,” she said with quiet determination. “We cannot go on as we have. In truth, we cannot go on at all.” She moved away from him, wrapping the sheet around her in a dignified and symbolic gesture of separation. “Tonight was an illusion,” she told him, carefully keeping her tone matter-of-fact. “The reality is what follows—the morning … and all the mornings thereafter. I realize you are acting honorably as a result of my father’s outrage, but I assure you, your concern is not necessary. Father loves me very much and, despite his current state of mind, he will eventually forgive me. As far as marriage, it would be absurd for you and I to wed simply out of a misplaced sense of duty. I’ve told you in the past that I plan never to marry—that, as you just pointed out, my opinion on the state of matrimony is, to say the least, skeptical.” Jacqui pushed the final words past the lump in her throat. “In short, I must reiterate what I said to you last week. …” She raised her chin in apparently unwavering decision. “What happened between us tonight can never happen again. Ever.”
Dane fought the impulse to strike her, so great was his frustration at her oh-so-eloquent rejection. He didn’t believe her glib words for a moment. Then what, he was forced to ask himself, was the true motivation behind her refusal? The mere preservation of her autonomy seemed a weak excuse for the intensity of her reaction. What drove Jacqueline more powerfully than her longing for him? Compelled her to forfeit all that had grown between them? You know how she feels about the English monarchy … and about the French Revolution. Alexander’s implication reared its ugly head. Now you’re telling me that she goes on mysterious excursions, alone, at night. Doesn’t it seem likely … Dane closed his eyes, seeing the thought through to its heinous conclusion. Yes, it did seem likely; more and more so each minute. All the pieces fit: Jacqui’s political beliefs, her unexplained midnight strolls, her refusal to commit herself to him when he knew damned well that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Dane clenched his fists until his palms tingled their protest, attempting to control his rampaging emotions. Jacqueline Holt was either a terrified, proud little girl holding fast to her unraveling independence or … Dane’s blood ran cold as the alternative cruelly asserted itself in his mind … or she was no more than a prevaricating schemer and … God help him … a traitor.
There was only one way to find out.
His decision made, Dane came to his feet and pulled on his breeches with quick, violent movements. He was livid, despising himself for his well-founded doubts, despising Jacqueline for her possible deceit, despising the whole damned situation and what was necessary to resolve it.
With an outward calm that was far more chilling than his anger, Dane turned to face Jacqui, moving toward the bed with slow, pantherlike strides until he towered over where she sat watching him apprehensively from amidst the disheveled bedding. Wordlessly, he sank down beside her, every corded muscle of his commanding physique taut with leashed restraint. After an endless moment, he raised his hand, just brushing the pulse at her throat with his thumb, gliding his fingers down over the delicate edge of her collarbone, running the back of his hand over the swell of her breast. Jacqui quivered, helpless to control her potent response to his touch.
Dane’s course of action instantly took shape.
“Never again, Jacqueline?” he murmured, leaning over to nibble at her lips. “Was that not what you just said?” He felt the inadvertent shiver that ran through her body like a pinpoint of fire and rewarded her with a deeper, more thorough kiss that took her breath away … and gave it back. “Are you certain … never?” he whispered. With tantalizing skill, he cupped her breast through the sheet she still clutched like a lifeline, teasing her hardened nipple with a caress so feather light that Jacqui moaned and leaned closer, seeking more.
In one fluid motion Dane tore the sheet from her unresisting hands, archi
ng Jacqui back against his arm and bending his head to answer her silent plea. Without prelude, he drew the entire pleading crest of her nipple deep into his mouth, simultaneously tugging with his lips and lashing with his tongue until Jacqui emitted a strangled cry, pulling him closer with trembling fingers.
Dane lifted his head, triumph glittering in his eyes.
“As I said earlier, you are the very worst of liars, Jacqueline,” he taunted softly, ignoring the bewildered look on her face and the heavy ache in his loins. “I defy you to tell me now … with your nipples hard and wet from my mouth and your seductive little whimpers begging me for more … tell me that this is not what you want, that I couldn’t take you right here, right now, even with your father waiting in his study and the sheets still drenched from our earlier passion. Tell me!”
Shocked by the vehemence of his tone, Jacqui lifted an instinctive hand to slap him, but Dane caught it, holding her wrist in a viselike grip, his silver gaze boring through her like steel. “All right, sweet, let us discuss the truth … something you are very adept at distorting. The truth is that you have as little desire to end the wildness that is between us as I do. Isn’t that right, chaton?” He stopped her other hand in midflight, lacing his fingers tightly through hers and holding her captive. “You believe you have won, Jacqueline, but I assure you that the battle has only just begun. You say that what happened tonight was an illusion. I say it is the only reality that exists between us. But there will soon be another. Would you like to hear what that reality will be?” He dragged her against him until her naked breasts burned into the hot skin of his bare chest. He felt her breath, her body quicken, and his lips curved into a dark smile. “You will marry me, mon chaton colereux. That is not only a reality, but a promise. And as you know, I always keep my promises, don’t I?”
Jacqui responded with another unsuccessful attempt to break away from his iron hold.
Dane pressed her closer still. “No answer? Then let me refresh your memory. Do you recall my promise that one day it would be you who asked me to make love to you? You who came to me? And you did, didn’t you, my sweet? You came to me, asked me … no, begged me”—his cold silver gaze swept her exquisite nudity in insolent appraisal—“to love you. Repeatedly, as I recall.” He ignored her furious gasp, the blazing flames in her dark blue eyes. “Hear this promise and hear it well. You will wed me, Jacqueline, if I have to drag you down the aisle to ensure that you do. And once you belong to me I am going to strip away all your secrets, one by one, until your mind and your heart lie as naked before me as your body does now.” He took her lips in a punishing kiss that sealed his vow, dared her to contest it, branded her as his.
Jacqui tore her mouth away. “How dare you, you bastard!” she hissed, enraged … and exhilarated by the challenge he issued.
Dane chuckled, seeing through her protests to the kindled fire beneath. “You will soon find that there is little I wouldn’t dare, chaton.” He gave her a long, knowing look. “That is one of the things that most excites you about me. That … and the way I make you feel when I’m deep inside you. Isn’t that right, Jacqueline?” He bent to taste her other breast as he had the first.
Jacqui licked her dry lips, determined to combat the spell he was purposefully weaving about her. “No … that’s not right,” she said in a soft pant, shards of pleasure piercing through her as his teeth and tongue worked their magic. “I … only … want … you … to … release … me. …
Dane savored the flavor of her, reveling in the passion she couldn’t disguise. He lifted his mouth for a scant second, watching the telltale signs of her desire: her dark lashes sweeping the fine bones of her cheeks, the soft flush that stained her satiny skin. He wanted to pull her beneath him and love her until his doubts and her protests had disintegrated into dust. Valiantly, he fought the impulse.
“Your hands have been free for some time now,” he drawled instead in a dry, mocking tone.
Jacqui’s eyes flew open, her face flooding with furious color. “Damn you!” She fairly flew from the bed, storming over to her wardrobe and snatching a silk dressing gown from within it. It took three attempts and six oaths to don it, so badly were her hands shaking. All the while Dane lounged on the bed, watching her with an intense, brooding expression on his handsome face.
“Get out!” Jacqui yanked the door open and waited, all regal stance and maidenly outrage. “Father expects you in his study.”
Dane came to his feet and scooped up the rest of his strewn clothing, taking his time dressing. Jacqui’s response was more than enough to convince him that his battle was as good as won. He forced his conscience to remain still, silently assuring himself that this crucial a war left no room for sentiment or guilt. Buttoning his shirt, he joined Jacqui at the door.
She was an enchanting, barefoot vision of smoldering anger, her mahogany curls a tousled waterfall about her shoulders, her small chin raised in mutinous demand. Dane felt emotion claw at his gut, despite his best intentions to remain unmoved. He saw past the flames that burned in her eyes, saw through to the fear and vulnerability that lay beneath.
“It needn’t be this way, chaton,” he murmured, trying one last time to shatter her misguided veil of secrecy. He nuzzled her sweet-scented hair, allowing his heart to speak past his judgment. “The type of marriage we will share is entirely up to you.”
“We are not going to share any marriage,” Jacqui snapped, jerking her head away from his seeking lips.
Dane ignored her fervent denial. “I’ll repeat what I said earlier … give me your respect and your honesty, full measure, and I shall stand beside you for the rest of our lives.” He raised her stubborn chin a notch higher, regarding her soberly. “Let us stop pretending, my beautiful, exasperating love. We both know you are hiding something from me. Know this as well. You have my word that whatever truth you tell me, no matter how grim, I’ll give you my strength, if not my blessing, and I’ll protect you from whatever repercussions I can.” He looked like he wanted to say more, then thought better of it. “I do not want to keep your father waiting any longer. The particulars I shall leave to you … for our wedding as well as our marriage.”
Jacqui bristled, throwing back her shoulders and clenching her fists at her sides. “For the last time, I am not going to marry you, Dane.”
Dane gave her his slow, charming … infuriating … grin. “And for the last time … I promise that you are, Jacqueline.” He walked past her, pausing only to raise her tightly closed fist to his lips. “Good night, chaton.” He stepped away, appraising her with possessive deliberation. “You will look magnificent in white.” She slammed the door in his face.
George Holt abruptly ceased his pacing as Dane entered the study looking as unruffled as if he’d just come from a business meeting rather than a condemnable liaison with George’s virgin daughter. The two men eyed each other warily, George’s gaze accusing, Dane’s direct.
“I’m not even certain how to begin,” George stated flatly, lines of pain etched on his face. “Years of fatherhood have not prepared me for this.” He shook his head, as if searching for an answer that was not to be found. “How could you do it?”
Dane felt a wave of sympathy for Holt. Regardless of what else he might be, he was obviously devoted to his only child. The shock of finding his young and precious daughter in Dane’s arms must have been devastating. In his mind, Jacqui was ruined.
“Before I begin,” Dane replied with gentle understanding, “I want to reiterate that none of this was Jacqueline’s fault. It was I who—”
“I heard your chivalrous confession the first time you offered it,” George cut in, scowling, “and the fact that you admit to having seduced Jacqueline offers me no solace whatsoever. First, it matters not whose initiative it was, for the end result is still the same. Second,” and he shot Dane an astute look, “I know my daughter very well, Westbrooke. Very well. And I can assure you that, experienced at seduction though you might be, she would not have succumbed to yo
ur charms had she chosen to remain immune. To be blunt, if Jacqueline didn’t want you, not only could you not have seduced her, you couldn’t even have taken her by force. She would have unmanned you first. So, apparently, my daughter possesses strong feelings for you.”
Dane’s lips twitched. “You’re absolutely right, Holt.” He folded his arms across his chest in a decisive gesture, proceeding as he had planned. “Very well, I am going to be equally as honest with you as you were with me. The fact is, I’ve wanted Jacqueline from the first night we met. I have done everything in my power to charm her into my bed … and am elated that I finally succeeded in getting her there.” He ignored Holt’s outraged gasp, pressing onward, determined to achieve his end. “There is but one piece of the puzzle with which you are unfamiliar. And that is the piece that is my gravest disappointment.”
“What the hell is that?” George was now beyond anger and into disbelief. No man would speak thus about another man’s daughter and expect to live. Pouring himself a much-needed drink, George prayed for strength. “It seems to me that you have taken all you could possibly want from my Jacqueline. What is there left over which to feel disappointment?” His hands were shaking so violently that he sloshed two-thirds of the glass’s contents onto the carpet.
“To the contrary, Holt, I want much more than your beautiful daughter is prepared to give. What I want is Jacqueline, not as my mistress, but as my wife.”
George turned, stunned. “Your wife? But I don’t understand … if you wish to marry Jacqui, then why …”
“You provided the answer yourself not two minutes past,” Dane remarked dryly. “If Jacqueline does not want to do something, then there exists no earthly force that can coerce her to do it. I’m sorry to say that your daughter has turned down my marriage proposal in a most emphatic manner.”
“I see.” George downed his drink, then studied the empty glass as if assessing the situation.
Dane waited, tense with the awareness that Holt’s next reaction might provide some important answers. If the older man were half as close to his daughter as he professed, he would be privy to the true motivation behind Jacqueline’s refusal, be it staunch independence … or something far more menacing.