A Woman Scorned

by Liz Carlyle

  And although the sharp, military precision of his movements had softened, his steely gaze had not. Jonet stood rapt before the cold hearth. “Will you come in?” she asked quietly.

  Cole came away from the door then, and pushed it shut behind him. “What is it, Jonet?” His deep voice was soft, suspicious, and mesmerizing.

  Jonet deliberately widened her eyes and forced her voice to steady. “I simply wished to reassure myself that all is well between us,” she said, motioning him toward the sitting area near the fireplace.

  His eyes hooded over. “I don’t think I perfectly understand—” “Tonight at dinner,” she interjected sharply, settling herself into one of the wing chairs which flanked the hearth. “You seemed rather distant. I wanted to be certain that what happened between us last night has not created a rift.” Jonet said the words coolly, willing the emotion from her face.

  Cole stepped a little closer, finally taking the chair oppo site her. He seemed distant, yet all too near. “Then you may set your mind at ease, Jonet. Last night was a dreadful lapse in judgement, and I hope that I am man enough to accept my part in it. You need have no concerns on that score.”

  “Need I not?” she asked, rather too sharply.

  Cole shifted his weight in the chair as if to rise. “No, and if I have laid those concerns to rest,” he said quietly, “I should bid you good night, Jonet. I daresay you need your sleep.”

  But Jonet did not dismiss him, knowing full well that he was too much the gentleman to simply walk out. Instead, she rose from her chair and crossed the room to a small desk, leaving Cole with no polite alternative but to stand at the edge of his seat.

  Absently, she picked up a small porcelain figurine and began to toy with it. “You had a caller today,” she said lightly, spinning around to face him. “I believe her name was Louisa? She returned your spectacles.”

  “Did she?” Cole looked vaguely surprised. “I own, I had not missed them.”

  “I believe you will find them on your desk in your sitting room,” Jonet said quietly.

  “I must say, your Louisa is quite dashing. Is she a very dear friend?”

  “Quite.” Cole narrowed his eyes and gave her a dark, warning look.

  Jonet tore her gaze from him and turned back to her desk, putting down the porcelain with an awkward clatter. “And would it be terribly presumptuous of me to ask if you have—ah, if you have formed an attachment of some sort?”

  Cole hesitated, until at last she was compelled to turn about and look at him. He smiled lightly, but it was forced and humorless. “Jonet, you may be assured that had I any such tendre for Louisa, I would hardly hasten to confess it. Her husband is too sure a shot”

  “Her—her husband?”

  Suddenly, Cole paced toward the desk. “Come now, Jonet,” he said softly, a skeptical look spreading across his face. “What is this interrogation all about? You cannot possibly have any interest in the wives of my fellow officers. I think you’d best come to the point” His words were unerringly polite, but there was no mistaking the challenge they held.

  It seemed Cole meant to force her hand. His pride, perhaps, would not allow him to go so easily down her path. She should have sensed it the moment he entered the room. Perhaps he found her discomfort amusing. No doubt many women propositioned him in just such a fashion. He was a handsome, wealthy widower surrounded by an aura of intelligence and intrigue.

  But those were not the reasons she wanted him. Hers were reasons she did not wish to examine too closely. Instead, Jonet sank into her desk chair and looked up into his piercing, golden stare, willing her gaze to hold steady. “Is it not obvious?” she asked pointedly. “I want an affaire d’amour, Cole. I want to finish what we started last night.”

  Abruptly, the room was plunged into silence. For a seemingly endless moment, Cole simply stared down at her, his eyes hard, his face set in implacable lines. He was going to refuse her! Pride almost got the better of Jonet, as it so often did. By heaven, she had never begged for a man’s affection in her Me—not her father’s, not David’s, and certainly not her husband’s. She surely would not begin doing so now. “I am asking,” she said steadily, “if you will be my lover.”

  Briefly, she saw a heated anger flare in his eyes. Cole leaned down into her face, bracing his powerful arms wide on the chair, to stare at her. She could smell Charlie’s best whisky on his breath as his heavy gold hair cascaded forward to shadow his face; a face so close she could see the light sheen of sweat across his upper lip. “Why, you make very bold indeed, madam,” Cole whispered into the dim light. “Could you perhaps be more explicit? Is this to be a trial? Are we to discover whether or not I am man enough to replace Delacourt?”

  “Do not be ridiculous,” she hissed. “I have told you that David and I are friends.”

  His nostrils flared, and he looked suddenly dangerous. As if he might strike her. Or kiss her. Or damn her into the fires of hell. But he did none of those things. Instead, he jerked himself erect again and spun away from her, all of the rage leaving on a sudden exhalation of breath. Slowly, he walked across the room, his heavy boots thudding hypnotically across the heavy carpet, one hand going to his forehead, the other positioned lightly atop his hip, in a now familiar gesture of frustration.

  Jonet rose from her chair. “You want me, Cole,” she said in a gently preemptive tone. “Do not try to deny it. I have asked you to be my lover. I have been given to understand that most men would find such an invitation tempting.”

  “Tempting?” he echoed bitterly, refusing to turn and face her. “Ah, yes, Jonet! You are all that—and so much more.”

  Boldly, Jonet crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back to stare at him, stubbornly setting one hip against the corner of the desk, and allowing the black fabric of her dress to cling somewhat revealingly. She had humiliated herself by asking, and she was bloody well going to have an answer from him. Tension lay thick across the room, but despite it, her breasts felt full, her nipples already taut with desire. He was teasing her, tormenting her, and making her want him all the more.

  As if answering her challenge, Cole turned and stepped incrementally closer. Even in the lamplight she could see the hardness of his jaw and the beard that now shadowed it. But even his ... his anger, or whatever his tightly tethered emotion was, did not dissuade her. The deep dimple in the center of his chin was more prominent tonight, and Jonet could scarcely restrain herself from rushing forward to touch it. Heaven knew she’d fantasized about it often enough.

  Indeed, there really was no point in playing games. The piercing look in Cole’s eyes said that he saw through her. He always had. Cautiously, she drew a deep breath and came away from the desk, jumping into she knew not what. Swiftly, she crossed the room and laid her hands flat against the wall of his chest. As she had suspected, the man did not flinch. Instead, he stood stoically, allowing her hands to roam over him, allowing her to feel the warm wool of his coat, the very beat of his heart, beneath her fingertips. Emboldened, she slid her hands beneath his lapels, running one of them around to caress the back of his neck, while with the other she lightly brushed her thumb across his silk waistcoat and over his taut nipple.

  Cole did step back then, yet she followed him, slowly rising up to lightly brush her lips to his. He drew in his breath sharply and jerked his mouth away. “God in heaven, Jonet—just don’t—” he rasped.

  “Don’t what?” she whispered huskily, sliding her hand into the thickness of his hair.

  “Don’t touch you? I’ve told you what I want.”

  “Don’t encourage me—this—us!” Almost imperceptibly, he backed against the wall.

  “Don’t let us make the same mistake twice.”

  Shamelessly, Jonet followed him. “How can it be a mistake?” she whispered thickly. “I cannot help what I feel. I need you, and I cannot think that you are indifferent to me.”

  “Perhaps you want me,” he roughly answered, bringing his hands up to caress her shoulders, the
n gently pushing her away. “But you don’t need me. They are very different things.”

  His eyes were blazing with an emotion Jonet did not entirely recognize. She resisted his unspoken warning to step back. “I don’t think you understand what I am asking,” she urgently responded. “I do need you. And I want you in my life.”

  “Jonet, you want me in your bed,” he responded harshly. “I cannot be a part of your life. Not in any way which matters. It simply is not possible.”

  The words hurt, but Jonet urged her body closer, sliding one hip against the joining of his long, muscular thighs. Ah—.’ Those sinfully lush lips lied. He did want her. He was hard and ready. She lifted her eyes to meet Cole’s, opening them widely, guilelessly.

  “I am a roan, Jonet,” he responded to her unasked question. “Don’t read too much into it”

  In response, Jonet teased at his nipple with her fingertips, feeling his manhood pulse against her hip. “You lust after me,” she challenged again, elevating her chin a notch.

  “Good God,” he rasped, tearing his gaze from hers. “Is there no end to your arrogance?” But Jonet could feel his grip on her shoulders slowly tightening, she could sense his pelvis pulling into hers, and the faint stirring of motion in his hips.

  His face lingered near hers, his lips hungrily parted. Oh, he burned to have her. But apparently, he meant to torment her to within an inch of insanity first. “Would you have me beg you, Cole?” She asked the question lightly, still urging herself against him like a Lime-house whore. “Are you, perhaps, attempting to humble me?”

  At that, Cole eased himself incrementally away from her hip. “I daresay a little humility —not to mention restraint—would be in order here, yes,” he snapped.

  His remark angered her, taunted her. “All—!” she returned. “And are you man enough to humble me, Cole?” Wickedness, impelled by lust, drove her to skim one hand down between them. Without hesitation, she slid her fingers around his swollen shaft, caressing the hot length of him through the fine fabric of his breeches.

  Cole let his head fall back, his breath coming out sharply. “Oh, mercy, Jonet!” he moaned. She could feel him shaking, she could hear the surrender in his voice as he urged himself harder against her hand. “Leave me in peace! You don’t want this. Not the way I am tonight Not ever.”

  “I do want you,” she insisted, easing her hand down the promising length of him. “Now. Please, Cole—! I am tired of wanting, wanting, and never having. Of being so achingly alone. So empty.”

  “For pity’s sake, Jonet! There are risks. Risks which could involve someone far more innocent than you or I. I think you know what I mean.”

  “I won’t become with child,” she said softly. “Not—not right now.” One hand still entwined behind his neck, Jonet lifted her other to the close of his breeches.

  Amazingly, her fingers shook not one whit, slipping the buttons loose with a rapid ease. She could feel him beneath the crumpled layers of fabric; hot, desperate, pulsing with life. Jonet could not ever remember wanting anything with such a visceral desperation. “Please,” she whispered urgently.

  As her hand slid beneath the linen of his drawers to take the velvet weight of him in her hand, Cole drew in his breath on a hiss. In response, Jonet slowly eased her fingers up and down his length, feeling the blood pulse beneath the velvet surface of his skin. Deep, shuddering need passed through him, and as it faded, Cole gave her a rough shake.

  “So you want that, Jonet?” he growled. “I am to simply pleasure you? To set aside my principles so that your noble ladyship can have her way with the hired help?” He shook her again. “Because, by God, if that’s what you want, then you’d better make damned sure it’s worth my while.”

  Jonet lifted her gaze from his erection and stared at him unblinkingly. “Oh, I didn’t hire you, Cole,” she softly corrected. “But I will make it worth your while.”

  With a slow deliberation, she slid one hand down his impressive length again, feeling him vibrate with suppressed lust. Atop her shoulder, his hand trembled, his fingers digging into her flesh. Ah, sweet, sweet heaven! How she wanted to lie beneath him, to feel him come deep inside her. “Are you still reluctant, Cole?” she softly teased, tightening her grip at the base of his manhood. “Can I perhaps persuade you with—”

  In a flash of movement, his fingers came up to drag her other hand from his neck, jerking it to his crotch to join the hand that still cradled him. In a cruel parody, he pressed both her palms against himself, and eased them up and down. “Persuade me with what, Jonet? With that sinfully wicked mouth of yours?” Cole all but sneered at her. “Oh, yes, your ladyship—! Why don’t you get on your knees and show me just how far you’re willing to go to get your way with me?” The one hand still balanced on her shoulder began to urge her down into the floor.

  It was as if his anger were suddenly contagious. Rage spiked through her, hot and quick “You impudent dog!” she hissed, jerking away and bringing one hand up to strike him.

  Cole was lethally quick, snaring her hand in mid-flight like a starved falcon. For a moment, he held it high, a slow, bitter smile curving one side of his mouth and deepening the hard lines of his face. Then roughly, he yanked her full against him.

  Dragging her hand to his mouth, he turned her inner wrist to his lips, his tongue nicking out to caress the tender flesh of her puke point. Jonet moaned, a deep, primitive sound, and Cole’s eyes dropped nearly shut, his sinfully long, dark lashes feathering across his tanned skin as he drew her closer still, his tongue slicking a trail of heat down her inner arm. Jonet was suddenly lost, plunged in a sensation so carnal that nothing else existed but Cole’s tongue sliding down her flesh.

  That they were both still dressed and standing in her sitting room made no difference at all. A shaft of pure lust spiked through her, tugging at her breasts, her belly, and her womanhood in a quick, urgent motion. And then, his mouth opened, drawing in the tender skin of her inner arm, and she feared her knees might buckle. He suckled her there for a moment, his long, strong fingers encircling her wrist, his eyes holding hers with a frightening intensity.

  The utter arrogance of his gesture escaped her, and when his mouth left her arm, she craved its return. He held her there for a long moment, her breasts now pressed high against him, and Jonet was taken aback to realize that she now stood —quite voluntarily —on her tiptoes and that her other hand was still urgently caressing him. She still wanted him. Oh, yes. And with a second blaze of intuition, Jonet realized that Cole’s reaction to her need had little to do with sex or morality. This was not right or wrong. He was fighting some inner demon she knew nothing about, and inside, he trembled with it Jonet’s hands slid away, and he let them go.

  Before her, his face began to blur in the lamplight, and she found herself fighting against the hot press of tears. What was she willing to do to have him? If she did not know, how could he? Perhaps she should humble herself just a little. Slowly, gently, she slid her hands beneath his shirt and skimmed her palms lightly down his belly, feeling it ripple and quicken with sensual awareness.

  She was, as he said, too arrogant. But he was not the man who had made her so. And yet, so often these last few days, he had paid the price for it Cole was simply the man she desired above all else, and perhaps he deserved to know it When she took him in her hands this time, he sucked in his breath on a gasp. When she shifted her weight to go down onto her knees and take him in her mouth, he exhaled sharply.

  Jonet sensed the change in him but a split second before it occurred. She had not a moment in which to respond. With a feral, anguished cry, Cole shoved her away and turned, drawing back his fist and slamming it into the wall behind him. Plaster cracked as her balance faltered, and Jonet barely saved herself from tumbling to the floor.

  Cole seemed wholly unaware of her. For a long moment, he simply stood there, saying nothing. Slowly, Jonet drew near, pressing herself against his back and wrapping her arms about his waist. Cole did not move as she
settled her cheek against the back of his coat. She had come here, she had convinced herself, to seduce him. But he was now the seducer, drawing her closer, enticing her further, with his pain and pride and need. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  Still, he remained motionless. She could sense that there was a deep, hungry darkness in him, which all of his golden beauty and masculine strength could not cloak. The bitterness which was welling up inside him was all too recognizable to Jonet. And there was loneliness, too. It clawed at one’s gut like a living thing. Ah, yes. She knew all too well what that felt like. Suddenly, Cole turned in her arms to face her, his face bleak. He jerked his head stiffly to the right, his blond hair tumbling down across one eye. “Is that the door to your bedchamber?” he rasped.

  Mutely, she nodded, and he slipped his hand into hers, dragging her away from the wall in one smooth motion. Pulling Jonet by the hand, Cole pushed through the heavy oak door that separated her bedchamber from the sitting room, finding himself in the midst of a large but sparsely furnished room. The decor was surprisingly masculine, the heavy furniture simple in style. A huge, mahogany bed with plain hangings of ivory brocade dominated the room.

  For one sickening moment, Cole feared he had dragged her into her late husband’s bedroom by mistake. But there could be no mistaking Jonet’s scent in the air. Impatiently, he pulled Jonet to the edge of the bed and sat down, dragging her awkwardly across his lap.