by Day Leclaire
“The heart,” he said in complete understanding. “You want a man who touches your heart and soul, who you’d want today and tomorrow and next week and next year. I know the feeling.”
Her curiosity must have gotten the better of her. “You’ve loved like that?” she asked.
“Not me, unfortunately. But my parents did. And my two brothers and their wives share an enduring love.”
“Lucky them.”
He smiled at her undisguised envy. “Did you really expect to find that here in just one night?”
“I didn’t expect to find it at all,” she claimed coolly.
A dry breeze from off the desert washed over her and, finding her the proverbial immovable object, it settled for creating havoc where it could—tumbling curls and fluttering feathers and tossing her silk dress about her thighs. Marc shifted to provide a wind block, though if he were honest he’d admit he liked her on the rumpled side. It helped ease her untouchable demeanor.
“What else could you want, if not love?” he asked.
She slanted him a swift look, one that warned that he wouldn’t like her response. “You assumed that was the last item on my list, but it isn’t. I’m not even sure love really exists. If it did—” She broke off with a shrug.
“You’d have found it before tonight?”
She bowed her head, her vulnerability painful to behold. She reminded him of a vibrant red rose bent beneath a force too powerful to repel. “Yes.”
“Tell me the last item you’re looking for.”
“Honesty.” Her gaze swept upward, fastening on him with fierce intensity. “I want a man who won’t lie to me, who’ll keep his word no matter what.”
“And you’ve never found a man with all those characteristics, a man you could also love? I’m almost afraid to ask what you’ve found instead.”
“I don’t mind telling you. I’ve found affection, comradery, appreciation. And with one man I experienced respect and kindness.”
“Dim reflections of the real thing.”
She grew still, centered once again while an emotional storm raged around her, never quite touching her, but a threat to her stability, nonetheless. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Is that why you came here?” Marc demanded. “To see if you could discover more than reflections?”
“You ask a lot of questions, considering I’m the one supposedly in control.”
“You’re in control. You can answer or not, your choice.” He didn’t give her time to think that over and come to any unfortunate decisions. Instead, he hit her with another question. “Why haven’t you found love back home?”
She hesitated and he suspected she was mulling over how to phrase her response. It would seem he’d fallen for a cautious woman—one with secrets she wasn’t prepared to fully reveal. Understandable. He had a secret or two of his own.
“There’ve been men interested in marrying me.”
“And why didn’t it work?”
“I wasn’t interested in marrying them. I think they appealed to my family more than to me.”
“What about the ones that did appeal to you?”
“My family discouraged them.” Her jaw set. “With justification, I later learned.”
“If they were so easily intimidated by your family, they couldn’t have loved you.”
“I told you. Love didn’t come into it.”
Why the hell not? he wanted to ask. Figuring discretion would be the wisest course on this particular topic, he let it go. For now. “And so you decided to attend the Beaumonts’ ball and see if you couldn’t find a man who would marry you without your family’s interference. Is that it?”
“Yes.”
It was such a simple response, but he suspected it hid a very complex set of problems. “Why would your family interfere?”
She hesitated and again he was struck with the certainty that she walked a fine line between discretion and frankness. “They think they know what’s best for me. The also like how our life currently works. They don’t want it to change.”
“And if you marry, they’re afraid it will?”
“Depending on the man...yes.”
Tough. Hanna needed a change. Badly. And if that caused problems with her family, he’d deal with them. Personally. “It sounds like the man you choose for a husband would have to be strong.”
“Very strong.”
“And he’d have to be a man capable of commitment in the face of adversity.”
“Tough, yet devoted,” she agreed.
“Most of all, he’d have to be a man able to love you despite the problems he’ll confront.”
Her laugh held a trace of sorrow. “I already told you. Love’s not on my list. Besides, it would take a miracle to find a man capable of all that. And I know better than to ask for so much.”
“Perhaps this is the season for miracles.”
“What are you saying?”
His sense of humor got the better of him and he laughed. “I do believe I’m offering to marry you. To fight your family for you, to offer my strength and my devotion.”
“And love?”
He hesitated. “Sorry. I’m not offering that, just yet.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not ready to accept it. Not after such a short acquaintance.”
“You’re right. If you said you loved me, I wouldn’t believe you.”
A shame. But if she accepted his proposal, there’d be plenty of time to convince her otherwise. “Do you accept, swan princess?”
“Take off your mask, first.”
Without a word, he untied the scarf and allowed it to fall to the bench between them. Her swift inhalation told him he appealed. With luck, he more than appealed. “Well?”
She looked away, staring out into the night. “You’ll do. But then, I suspect you already knew that.”
“I’m not a vain man.”
“You’re the one in the reception line, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I...I noticed you.”
It was the second time she’d revealed her vulnerability that evening. First her tears and now her hesitant admission. He suspected most people didn’t see her lower her guard once, let alone twice. “I noticed you, too.”
“This could be a terrible mistake.”
“If it is, we’ll correct it.” He leaned forward and caught her hand in his. “But what if it isn’t? What if fate or destiny intended us to meet?”
Her mouth twisted. “Or what if we’re a pair of fools caught up in the romance of the night?”
He suppressed a sigh, regretting that someone so young and lovely should be so cynical. “Then we’ll be foolish together.”
“And pay the consequences tomorrow?”
His sense of humor returned and he grinned, encouraging her to join in the sheer absurdity of their situation. “I can’t help but think they’ll be sweet consequences.”
“Would you... Would you kiss me again?”
“My pleasure.”
Ever so gently he pulled her into his arms. She fit beautifully, as though she’d been made as a perfect counter for him. Her arms slipped around his neck, clinging. For a long moment she stared into his eyes, searching for something he doubted she could name. He sat quietly beneath her scrutiny, allowing her to look her fill. After all, he had nothing to hide.
Satisfied, she lifted her mouth to his. Determined to be the perfect gentleman, he kissed her. He’d meant for it to be a light, tender caress. It was a foolish hope. As soon as their mouths collided, the kiss became charged with an unbearable wanting. Perhaps he could have kept the embrace from going too far if she hadn’t responded so generously. But the instant her arms tightened around his neck and she tilted her head to give him better access, he lost every semblance of control. His mouth hardened over hers, hungry and demanding, determined to take all she had to offer. With a barely audible sigh, she opened to him, her utter trust and vulnerability as arousing as it was hum
bling.
He thrust his fingers deep into her hair, dislodging the scrap of gold net. Her waist-length hair tumbled downward and he caught the molten curls, but they were too vibrant to contain. Her hair overflowed, spilling across his arms. The texture felt soft as pillow down and yet ignited a sensation that lapped across his skin like wildfire. It scorched the nerve endings and sparked the explosive need to make her his by any means possible. She was a woman who resisted caging. But that didn’t stop him from trying. He urged her further into his arms, enclosing her in a trap of muscle and sinew. She could escape with a single word, but he was determined she wouldn’t have the chance—or the desire—to utter it.
His tongue mated with hers, teasing and tempting, eliciting a response as uninhibited as it was honest. Here was one aspect of her personality where control was futile, though he suspected she’d never realized that before. He could only hope the pleasure she experienced eased the shock of learning that such raw, primal urges decimated her reserve beyond any chance of recovery.
Feathers fluttered helplessly beneath his determined siege and he cupped her breasts through the thin silken barrier, absorbing her tremors of desire. For an instant, he felt her surrender, the pliant gifting of herself as she leaned into him, her spine bending backward in a graceful arch. There was a softness to her, an acquiescence as her body readied itself to accommodate stronger, harder angles. But most telling of all was the underlying tension that consumed her, the urgent, irrepressible desire to match him thrust for thrust, to surge toward a heightening of their desperate need until they reached a completion of emotions held too long in check.
They’d reached a crossroads. And as though suddenly realizing it, she curbed her reaction, gathering inwards. “What am I doing?” she whispered.
She turned her head aside, her posture painfully stiff, the breath shivering in her lungs. Tension radiated from her, a far different sort than before—disbelief and, possibly, regret. But at least she didn’t rip free of his embrace. If anything, she clung to him as if he were the only steadfast object in a world gone badly awry. Whether she knew it or not, she instinctively trusted him. It gave him hope as he provided her momentary anchorage.
Finally she turned to look at him, her eyes as huge and dark and unreachable as the night sky overhead. “I don’t want to be seduced.”
“What a shame.” Ever so gently, he swept errant curls from her face. Picking up the scarf he’d used for a mask, he secured her hair at the nape of her neck, knowing it would help restore her sense of control. “I suspect I could do it very well—at least with you.”
Her laughter trembled with nervous strain. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Would it help if I promised to be thorough?” he asked gravely. “Granted, it would take a lot of time.” A lifetime, if he were lucky. “But I’d be happy to make the sacrifice.” She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and he almost took the plunge again, dipping into that sweet interior and urging her toward an inescapable destiny.
“Hanna,” he warned.
The harsh, bitten-off sound of her name caused an instant reaction. Carefully, she disengaged herself from his arms, putting the distance of the bench between them. “What about you?” She fought to regain her poise by returning to the mundane. “I’ve told you about myself, but I don’t know anything about your life.”
He couldn’t think after that kiss they’d exchanged, could barely speak. And she wanted to discuss his history? Couldn’t she tell? Didn’t she sense how he felt? He smoldered with the need to take her in his arms again. It pounded in his blood and raced through his veins, simmering with every breath he drew. Did she have any idea? She couldn’t. Or she wouldn’t be staring at him so calmly. She’d be fleeing toward safety. Of course, he’d be incited to give chase, so perhaps she was wise to remain seated on the bench.
“We have plenty of time to learn about each other,” he finally said.
“I’m in control, remember?” Her mouth curved upward with more than a hint of wry humor. “At least, that’s what you keep telling me.”
He gritted his teeth as he fought to contain a desire that had gotten seriously out of hand. “What do you want to know?” he asked, giving in to the inevitable.
“Do you have family?”
“I’m one of six brothers.” Just remembering his family helped bank the fire. They weren’t going to be pleased when they discovered that he’d gone back on his word. Too bad. He wanted Hanna, wanted her more than he had any woman he’d ever known. And he’d known quite a few. Yet, not one of them had stirred him to act so impulsively.
“Six!” It took her a moment to digest that. “What are their names?”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Come on. Tell me their names.”
“Luciano is the oldest. Luc’s married to Grace. Then there’s the moodiest of the lot, Alessandro, followed by me, Stefano and Rocco. And bringing up the rear is Pietro. Satisfied?”
“Your mother didn’t have any daughters? Did she mind?”
“If so, she never let on.” He shrugged. “It’s too bad, if you ask me. We would have enjoyed having a little sister to spoil.”
“Yes, I imagine you would,” she murmured drily.
He lifted an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”
“You just seem the type.”
“I trust it’s a good type?”
To his amusement, she ducked her head. If it weren’t so dark, he’d probably have seen her blush. “Yes,” she muttered. “It’s a very good type.”
“Did you have brothers who spoiled you?”
“We were discussing your background, remember?” He didn’t respond and she sighed. “For supposedly being in control, I don’t seem to be getting my way very often. No, I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. Satisfied?”
“Satisfied and sorry. You strike me as a woman in desperate need of some spoiling.”
Her jaw tightened. “I was spoiled plenty growing up. If you ask me, it’s an unnecessary indulgence.”
“You think so?” An inexplicable anger raced through him, one he fought to keep well hidden. An indulgence? If ever there was a woman crying for a bit of spoiling, it was this one. More than anything, he wanted to. ease her tension, to transform her frowns into laughter. To prove to her that intimacy wasn’t to be feared and love not a miracle, but a given. “Time will tell. What other questions do you have?”
“Where do you live?”
“San Francisco. And you?”
“Maryland on the Delmarva Peninsula. It’s a little town called Hidden Harbor.” Her brows drew together again and it struck him that she was a woman who frowned more often than she smiled. He’d change that, too, and soon. “I never thought to ask.... Are you willing to relocate? What do you do in San Francisco?”
“I make my living seducing people.” He smiled, catching the trailing ends of the scarf confining her hair and urging her closer. Leaning forward so his mouth was mere inches from hers, he asked, “I’m very good at it, wouldn’t you say?”
“Very.” She swallowed, staring at him in apprehension. It would appear he’d shaken her composure, something he’d take pains to do as often as possible since it helped her unfurl ever so slightly. “How... What...”
“How do I seduce people and what do I seduce away from them?” At her nod, he leaned closer still, his breath stirring the curls at her temples. “What I seduce from them is money. As much as they’ll give me. How I do it is by being charming and sincere and very, very honest.”
“You take their money?”
“Every cent. In return for services rendered, of course.”
“Services...?” Her eyes widened in alarm and she attempted to pull free. “You mean you’re a...”
“Salesman.” He sighed. “Sad, but true.”
Laughter broke from her, light and startled and delightfully unfettered. It was possibly the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. “I thought—”
“That
I was a gigolo?”
“Yes.”
“Disappointed?”
“A little.” Her smile eased the blackness of the night. “Of course, if you were a gigolo, I wouldn’t marry you.”
“Ah... But if I were a gigolo, I wouldn’t admit it. I’d sweep you off your feet and get my ring on your finger as quickly as possible.”
“Aren’t you forgetting a step? First, you’d have to determine I was worth marrying.”
His amusement fled. “You’re worth it, carissima.”
“How would you know?” She set her chin at an aggressive angle. “I don’t wear my bankbook around my neck. I could be a pauper.”
“I’m not talking about finances, so stop trying to put words in my mouth.” He eyed her shrewdly. “But you’re not ready to admit that, are you? I suspect you want to find a flaw somewhere. Are you looking for an excuse to leave the Cinderella Ball without a husband?”
“I want to marry. I’m just not certain I’ll find the man here.”
“Or love?”
“Unnecessary.” The word rasped through the soft night air, taut with defiance. “Life’s a balance sheet In the end, balance the good with the bad and hope for the best. If you’re lucky you’ll stay in the black. If you’re very lucky you get an extra perk or two.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Love being an extra perk?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes.”
Blunt and to the point, and possibly, the most telling comment of all. “What about the men your family hoped you might marry? What was wrong with them?”
“Nothing,” she admitted. “They just weren’t...right.”
“They left you with a zero balance?”
She flinched at having her words turned back on her “Something like that.”
Or was it that she didn’t love them? She might deny the emotion, but he suspected that deep down it might be the one ingredient she wanted most of all. If he were any judge of the situation, his swan princess had never been deeply touched by that particular emotion. And as much as she wanted it, she also feared it. Perhaps he could help allay those fears. “And what about me? Do you think I might be right?”