"So your enjoyment was a pretense, was it, Brie?" he said menacingly. "Then I congratulate you. Your performance was better than the most desirable whores of my acquaintance."
"How dare you!" she hissed, furious at his insult. Yet her anger quickly turned to dismay as she was pulled roughly into Dominic's arms. She pushed frantically against his chest, trying to reason with him. "Dominic, not here! The sailors—"
"You forget, chérie, that I own this vessel. And while you are under my protection, you are mine." He kissed her then, ruthlessly, punishingly, wanting to crush her defiance and tame her proud spirit.
Unprepared for the violence of his kiss, Brie emerged from his embrace bruised and trembling and—Heaven help her— weak with desire. She averted her face, not wanting him to know how strongly he had affected her. "Your presumptions are ill founded, Lord Stanton," she whispered hoarsely. "I am not yours, nor do I enjoy being mauled. Now if you are quite finished humiliating me, I will return to my cabin."
Dominic, too, was shaken from their encounter, but he had far more experience hiding his feelings. "Ah, yes," he said nastily. "Once more the lady whose reputation has been compromised. Will you now demand marriage as compensation for your lost honor?"
Brie's eyes flew to his face, but for a moment she was too stunned even to reply. Then, suddenly, she began to laugh. "I am sorry, Dominic," she finally gasped, "but it lacked only that to . . . to put a c-cap on this ridiculous adventure! I know you think me capable . . . of such ex-extortion, but you may rest easy. You are s-safe with me. You . . . you have to be the last man . . . I would ever, ever . . . choose to marry!"
Knowing she sounded hysterical. Brie put a hand over her mouth, but she was unable to stop laughing. Deciding that she had better return to her cabin, she turned and made her way unsteadily across the deck to the hatchway.
Dominic watched her disappear in silence, his fingers tightly gripping the rail. Damn the little witch! How she cut up his peace! His chest ached with the turmoil she stirred in him. Last night when she had turned away from him to weep softly onto her pillow, he had felt guilty as hell. And this morning, when Jason had insisted that marriage was the only course, he had been furious with himself for overlooking such an obvious trap. But even knowing that Brie might have planned to use his weakness for her to her own advantage, he hadn't been able to leave her behind. And now . . . now he only felt a strange, aching emptiness.
Could he believe what she had said just now, that marriage wasn't her aim? She had seemed genuinely astonished by the suggestion, before she had started laughing so wildly.
But even that was a minor issue. The real question was, could he trust her? Could he believe her when she said that she was merely an innocent victim of circumstances?
Dominic turned to gaze to the French coast. He had crossed the Channel many times in service to the English crown, though generally under the cover of darkness. His missions then he had treated as a game, where the wrong move could perhaps result in his death, but where the prize was the balance of power between European nations. Once again he was involved in a situation that could cost him his life. But what now was the reward for winning? And why did he have this persistent feeling that the elusive prize would be as important to him as life itself?
They docked at Dieppe late in the afternoon, and once the coach was off-loaded, Dominic ordered his small party to press on. Brie wasn't at all surprised when Dominic elected to ride in the box, rather than share the carriage with her, but she staunchly pretended his actions didn't matter. And at least, the arrangement would give her an opportunity to sleep, something she couldn't do easily under Dominic's penetrating gaze. Pulling a blanket over her lap, she settled back against the cushions and closed her eyes.
When nightfall approached, she was still asleep. She didn't even wake when the coach pulled into the courtyard of an inn some ten miles outside Rouen, or when Dominic opened the carriage door to hand her down.
Impatient with the delay, Dominic leaned into the carriage, searching the dark interior. Seeing Brie curled up in the far corner asleep, he felt his breath catch in his throat. The picture she presented was one of artless seduction. Her hood had fallen back again, letting a riot of curling tendrils escape their pins, while a ray of lantern light fell upon her face, lending her skin a golden glow. Her dark lashes lay on her cheeks like soft shadows, and her coral lips were slightly parted, seeming to beckon for a kiss.
Her charming dishevelment affected Dominic strangely; the anger that had been simmering inside him for the past two days vanished. He reached out to run a finger over Brie's lower lip, his own mouth curving in a smile. He would find out the truth, he promised himself, one way or another, but until then he would give her the benefit of doubt.
Brie's eyes fluttered open when he gently shook her awake, but the shock of meeting Dominic's gaze held her immobile. His gray eyes were warm and teasing, and he was smiling at her in that half-tender, half-amused way that always set her heart thudding against her ribcage. Brie felt a shiver of excitement run through her, knowing exactly what that look promised.
Dominic's smile widened into a grin as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. "I hate to disturb your nap, chérie, but unless you intend to spend the night in the coach, you had better make yourself presentable. I can't allow you to enter a public inn looking like you've been repeatedly tumbled by an ardent lover. It might give some hot-blooded male the notion to try his own luck."
Brie knew she ought to respond with something appropriately cutting, but she still wasn't fully awake. She contented herself with glaring groggily at Dominic as she sat up and tried to repair her appearance.
Dominic waited as Brie smoothed her rumpled skirts, but when she attempted to subdue her unruly tresses, he grew impatient again. Pushing her clumsy fingers out of the way, he drew her hood up to cover her hair and tucked the remaining tendrils out of sight.
"I can manage without your help," Brie grumbled, uncomfortably aware of Dominic's nearness. "I am not a child, you know."
His eyes dropped the length of her body and he chuckled. "How clever of you, my sweet. You have discovered the one topic with which we are in complete agreement."
Brie didn't deign to reply. She merely gave Dominic a withering glance as he handed her down from the coach and preceded him to the inn.
The innkeeper was a widow—small, sour faced, and thoroughly French in her conviction that the English were not much better than the aristocrats her fellow countrymen had guillotined during the Revolution. Dominic had no difficulty overcoming her prejudices, however.
Brie watched his progress in awe, finding it hard to follow his rapid, colloquial French, but having no trouble seeing the effect his considerable masculine charm had on the widow. When the Frenchwoman actually began to blush and simper, Brie rolled her eyes at the ceiling, wondering if all women behaved like idiots when Dominic merely smiled. But then she remembered that she too had found Dominic fascinating and impossible to resist. She lowered her gaze to the crudely woven carpet and kept it trained there until the proprietress was ready to show them upstairs.
Much to Brie's relief, she and Dominic were given separate bedchambers. The room was also far more cheerful than she had expected. A welcome fire burned in the hearth, and the rather large bed, bare of hangings, looked clean and comfortable. When she spied the big wooden tub in the corner,
Brie felt her spirits rise considerably. She asked if she might have a bath before supper, and the Frenchwoman grudgingly agreed to send up some hot water, as well as a tray of food.
While she waited, Brie removed her cloak and gloves and hung the spencer of her travelling suit in the wardrobe. That done, she found herself staring thoughtfully at the bed and wondering why Dominic had decided not to share it with her. She had no desire to repeat the previous night's humiliating scene, but the thought that he might not want her wasn't as comforting as it should have been.
When a knock
sounded at the door, Brie hesitated, thinking that it might be Dominic. But it turned out to be a procession of maids carrying cans of hot water. They were followed by two strapping lads who lugged a large trunk into the room and set it beside the bed.
Brie was puzzled by the trunk and curious to find out what it contained. While the tub was being placed in front of the fire and filled, she inspected the contents. To her surprise she discovered more clothing, enough to fill her needs for an extended journey. Brie smiled softly, realizing that Dominic had gone to greater trouble than he had acknowledged.
When the servants had gone, she carefully closed and locked the door. Anticipating the pleasure of a long bath, she undressed quickly and sighed with contentment as she stepped into the tub. When she had scrubbed herself till her skin was pink and glowing, she washed her hair, then relaxed back against the rim, letting her tired limbs relax. The water felt heavenly, and she closed her eyes, willing her mind to shut out the unsettling images that drifted through it.
The peaceful interlude didn't last long. It seemed like only a moment before she heard the barely discernible creak of a floorboard. Realizing that she wasn't alone, Brie gave a start and sat up. She gasped when she saw Dominic standing beside the tub, looking down at her, his eyes glinting roguishly. His shirt was opened to the waist, displaying a broad expanse of dark-furred chest, and he had a towel flung carelessly over one shoulder.
Seeing where his warm gaze was focused, Brie hastily covered her breasts with her arms. "How did you get in here?" she demanded breathlessly, affronted at her lack of privacy.
"There is a door behind that screen which connects our rooms," Dominic replied, a smile playing on his lips. Cocking his head to one side, he gave her a full grin. "Why such modesty, chérie? I am quite familiar with your body by now. There is no need to hide."
Brie ignored his teasing remark and sank lower in the tub. "What do you want?" she asked, watching him warily.
"Can't you guess?" His gray-eyed gaze roamed her bare shoulders and dipped lower, coming to rest again on the glistening hollow between her breasts. Brie felt her stomach muscles tighten.
When she didn't answer, Dominic added softly, "Are you afraid?" His tone was gentle, much like a caress, and hearing it Brie bit her lip. Afraid? Yes, she was afraid. Not of his violence, for she could fight that with anger. But if he touched her with tenderness, she would respond in the same shameless, wanton way she had the night before. And she could tell by the look in his eyes that Dominic knew it, too.
Brie shook her head. She had to steel herself against his charm, his physical attraction. Even if it meant fighting him every step of the way, she couldn't let herself give in to him so easily.
To her dismay, Dominic tossed his towel on the chair that flanked the fireplace and leisurely began to undress. Seeing the flexing muscles of his arms as he removed his shirt, Brie wondered frantically if there were any way she could delay the inevitable. "You'll get wet," she murmured in a faint voice.
Dominic threw back his head and laughed. "But of course, ma belle. That is what one usually does when one bathes. I thought I would share your bath, since it seemed a shame to put our kind hostess to further trouble. I trust the water is still warm?"
When his breeches followed his shirt, Brie averted her eyes from the magnificent sight of Dominic's nakedness and reached for a towel to cover herself. "I don't believe your motives include sparing the servants," she retorted, irritated by his mocking humor. "You are doing this to annoy me. If I were a man, I would—Oh!" Brie yelped as she was suddenly lifted from the tub and set on her feet.
When Dominic's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her full against him, her heart started to beat so wildly that she was certain he could hear it. The linen towel was still between them, but it was a negligible barrier to Dominic's hard lean body. Brie could feel the heated warmth of his skin as her breasts pressed against his chest, and she couldn't help but be aware of his flagrant masculinity as her thighs molded against his powerful ones. There was no question that he was aroused.
Feeling a hot blush flood her cheeks, Brie focused her gaze on the corded muscles of Dominic's throat, watching the strong beat of his pulse. But when he gripped her chin between his fingers and forced her to meet his gaze, she saw that his grin had faded.
"If you were a man, my sweet," he said grimly, "you would be long since dead. You should be thankful that your body still has its attractions, that you can turn a man's blood to fire."
When she didn't reply, he held her away a little and with a finger, traced a damp path between her breasts. "What is your game, Brie?" he asked, his tone softening. "What secret thoughts are hidden by your bright eyes? Are you a sorceress seeking to bewitch me with your soft lips and seductive curves?"
Brie could only stare at him and wonder at the strange expression in his eyes. Oddly, she could read uncertainty in the gray depths, and she could see anguish flickering there as well.
Then, as if he had said too much, Dominic abruptly released her. Brie shivered as the warmth from his embrace faded. Turning away, she wrapped the towel defensively around her.
When she heard a splash behind her, she knew Dominic had stepped into the tub and that she was safe for the moment. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "What colorful images you have of me, my lord. First a murderess, then a marriage- minded whore, and now a witch. You really must make up you mind, for I cannot be all three. It would be illogical for me to wish both to kill and to marry you; and if I truly were a witch, no doubt I could have found a way out of this predicament before now. God, how I wish that I had never laid eyes on you!" She paused, staring at the fire. "But I won't burden you any longer. I will not be leaving with you tomorrow."
"Do you think it that simple, Brie?"
"I beg your pardon?" She turned to find Dominic watching her intently as he rubbed soapy lather over his chest and shoulders.
"I don't intend to let you out of my sight until this is over," he said holding her gaze.
Her eyes widened in amazement. "Do you mean to keep me a prisoner then?"
Dominic was silent for a long moment. "Only until I have seen your grandfather," he responded at length. "Then you may do as you wish."
"You can't bring yourself to trust me, is that it? What do you think I'll do? Run to him and warn him of your arrival?"
Dominic didn't answer. When he reached for a can and poured warm water over his head and torso, Brie spun around and stalked over to the trunk where she rummaged angrily through the contents, searching for a nightgown. Unable to find one, she pulled on a wrapper of green silk and tied the sash with a jerk.
"Why did you follow me, Brie?" she heard him ask softly.
Startled by the question, she turned to look at him. Was he finally giving her a chance to explain? "I told you why," Brie said stubbornly. "I don't believe my mother caused your father's death. How could she when she spent her life helping others? She even died because of her selflessness; she caught a fever while she was nursing a tenant's child. My mother was the most loving person I've ever known. She was gentle and kind, and she never hurt anyone or anything in her life. I don't expect you to understand that," Brie said bitterly, tears sparkling in her eyes, "but I want her name vindicated."
Dominic seemed unmoved by her impassioned declaration. "Then you should have no objection to continuing the journey with me," he observed calmly as he reached for his towel.
"I doubt my preferences would matter to you. You delight in riding rough-shod over people."
"Brie, I . . ." He broke off, scowling as if she had hit a sensitive nerve. When he looked away, she could see a muscle tighten in his jaw.
Brie watched him for a moment, wondering what he had been about to say to her. When he remained silent, she turned her back and began to towel her hair dry. She tensed when she heard Dominic step out of the tub, but he only finished drying himself off and picked up his clothes, leaving the room without a word. Brie breathed a sigh of relief. She had no
t expected to be let off so easily.
Pulling the armchair before the hearth, she sat down to comb the tangles from her hair. The warmth from the fire helped to dry her long tresses, but they were still curling damply about her shoulders when a knock sounded at her door.
It turned out to be the proprietress again, announcing that supper had been laid out in monsieur's chamber. Incensed by Dominic's blatant disregard for her wishes. Brie marched across the room and flung open the door that connected her room with his. "Perhaps you weren't aware," she said mutinously, "but I requested a tray in my room."
Dominic gave Brie's green-clad figure an appreciative perusal, taking in her flushed cheeks and riotous tresses, but he wisely withheld his comments about her provocative appearance. "So you did," he replied evenly, "but I thought this would be more pleasant."
"Pleasant?" Brie mocked. Her eyes swept the room, finding it a mirror image of her own. The only difference was that instead of a tub, a supper table had been set before the fire. The table was heavily laden with dishes, and the appetizing aroma that filled the room made Brie realize how hungry she was. She hesitated, watching Dominic cautiously as he poured two glasses of wine.
To her chagrin, she found herself distracted by Dominic himself. The full-length dressing gown he wore was black embroidered with silver dragons, and the colors greatly enhanced his dark good looks, making his harsh, aristocratic features seem even more striking. He exuded male attraction, Brie thought with mingled dread and anticipation. It wasn't hard to tell that he was naked beneath the robe, for where it parted at the throat, his muscular chest was bare, and where it belted at the waist, the rich silk molded against his narrow hips and the rippling sinews of his thighs. Brie swallowed hard, wondering if this were part of some plan to lure her into his bed.
"You planned this, didn't you? That's why there was no nightgown with the other clothes you provided."
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