“One would imagine you’ve been violated, to judge from your piteous sobs. Don’t tell me your other lovers have been so lacking in imagination as to let any part of such a tempting delectable body go neglected?” He laughed when she almost unconsciously drew her legs up under her, and taunted, “Modesty at this late stage? Or is it more pretense? Can it be, my sweet, shy Alexa, that you’re disappointed that I did not take what was begun to a final conclusion? Should I now?”
Goaded, she turned on him with her cheeks still damp from the angry tears she had shed, wanting above all to hurt him wherever he was most vulnerable with her arrowed words. “If you treated your wife in the same callous fashion in which you’ve treated me, I am hardly surprised that she shrank from you. Perhaps she might even have found her second captivity vastly preferable to the first. Was that why you had to kill her?”
There was a silence that seemed to stretch forever, long enough for her to notice irrelevantly that the gas lamps had been turned down under their blue shades that matched the shades of the old-fashioned lamps on the dressing table. That the fire had burned down to red coals, and that the thin cigar he had been smoking gave off a most peculiar odor which she could not place.
He dragged on the cigar while she felt herself compelled to keep her eyes on his face; and while he seemed to hold the smoke he inhaled within himself for an interminable time, his eyes glittered at her like jagged shards of green glass until they were veiled at last by smoke. “Did I really bare my soul to you that night? How boring that must have been for you. In fact, I’m surprised that you decided to linger, especially in view of... But why did you stay? And why did you suddenly appear when you did, as my—ah, yes—true dream, I think it was. How is your memory? Can you remember all the bordellos you’ve been in, looking for whatever it is you were looking for?” He was so close to her that their shoulders almost touched, close enough so that Alexa could almost feel the violence that emanated from his body and stretched like taut strings under the surface calmness of his voice. If she moved now or even looked away he would probably put his hands about her neck and snap it. Encountering a leopard or a panther unexpectedly in the jungle when there were only a few feet separating you and no time in which to bring up a gun, you stood there very still and stared the predator down, ignoring the growls and the swishing tail and the narrowed green eyes. This was a different kind of predator that she faced now, one she found more frightening and more dangerous. She should never have let herself forget, Alexa thought, that this man only put on a surface show of being civilized—just as easily as he wore his London clothes and his title and his polite manners. But underneath there was the savage barbarian who carried a knife from force of habit and used it without hesitation, a cruel man raised in a savage, primitive land, with the dark Spanish blood of the ruthless conquistadores running in his veins. Besides his unfortunate wife, how many others had he killed?
“Here, dammit!” Nicholas said in a hard voice, and put his cigar to her lips. “Inhaling this ought to loosen your stubborn tongue, along with some of the prudishness you seem to have acquired quite suddenly.”
“But I...” Alexa knew, even as she began to protest, that it would do her no good.
“If you’re afraid of becoming sick, there’s no need to worry. This is a different kind of ‘cigar,’ my dear innocent, and I’m surprised that you haven’t tried this kind of thing before. Try to inhale it slowly, and hold the smoke in your lungs for as long as you can.”
Alexa coughed and spluttered at first, but he remained inflexible; and at last she managed unwillingly to satisfy him, not daring to do otherwise. Her throat seemed to burn from the harshness of the smoke, and she drained the glass of wine he had given her, wondering the next moment how she happened to be holding another glass in her hand. How? Of course. It was his glass, and he had gone into the next room for more wine to get drunk on. Primitive man. Naked sculpture by Michelangelo come to life as he walked back to her. This time the smoke did not burn her throat and her lungs quite as much, and Alexa felt some of the tenseness in her body relax as she leaned her head back against the headboard and breathed in deeply. “It’s not tobacco, is it?”
“This particular plant grows like a weed, and the medicine men swear it can cure almost every ailment known.”
“I’m sure that claim is highly exaggerated! But I suppose...” Her voice trailed off rather vaguely as Alexa suddenly became aware of the effect of the blue lampshades. Except for the sullen, dark red coals everything was deep, dark blue, like diving deeply into the ocean and being able to live and breathe underwater in that dim blueness.
“And what do you suppose, Alexa?”
“I have forgotten what I supposed at first, so I’m sure it was nothing very important.” Turning her head, Alexa met his shadowed look head on before she said thoughtfully, “But I do suppose, you know, that I would like to know if you really did murder your wife?”
“Are you admitting that you might actually have some doubts!” There was something underlying the sarcastic tone of his voice that almost puzzled her before she heard him say, without any inflection this time, “I did kill her, though. Call it murder, if you will; it’s a word that fits the deed as well as any other. And does that satisfy your curiosity?”
Chapter 40
“Marry her? My dear Nicholas, it’s surely not that vast, vulgar fortune that attracts you, is it? If you are short of money...”
“I’m sure you are already well aware of my financial standing, Belle-Mere,” he had answered her shortly, preparing to take his leave of her as politely and as quickly as possible. But it was then that the Dowager Marchioness of Newbury had taken him by surprise by crossing the room to put an urgent hand on his sleeve.
She had given a short, almost resigned sigh before saying quietly: “Very well, then. I had not meant to let too many family skeletons out of the closet all at once, but in this case... You will at least sit down, instead of continuing to stand there towering over me while I make my speech, I hope? Please, I find it difficult enough as it is.”
Knowing how subtly cunning she could be, he had waited skeptically for the speech she had promised him; and although he had learned long ago to school his face so that it showed no reaction, he had responded to her concisely delivered facts, as she called them, in his gut An explanation for everything, she had promised, and had not even spared herself in admitting baldly that after her husband who was so much older than she was had become bedridden with a stroke, she had taken lovers. And one of them had been Sir John Travers, Bart....
“He was young and handsome. A friend of Gavin’s. I used to feel his eyes on me, following me everywhere. He worshiped me, he said. And was fool enough to go off to India to make a fortune—for me, he said, poor fool. And then he actually came back with his fortune but without his manhood, actually believing I would be content to play Beatrice to his Dante. Pure, unsullied love, he called it. Ah, I’m afraid I’ve never been one to mince words or be less than blunt. So, he took himself off, hating me as passionately as he swore he had once loved me, swearing dramatically that he would be revenged, even if it was from the grave.”
“Poor fool indeed!” Nicholas remembered commenting drily before she had lifted an imperious hand.
“I had forgotten about the man until his widow turned up out of the blue. And would have ignored her had I not known her background and what she was—and had I not realized belatedly that John Travers had indeed meant what he said when he spoke of revenge.”
“And what is her background?”
“You heard all the hints she dropped when she was presented to me? ‘My grandmother, they tell me, is a witch,’ she said.” The Dowager gave a harsh laugh. “True enough, my dear Nicholas, I’ve been called that and worse by my enemies. And true enough too that I’m her grandmother on the wrong side of the blanket. She’s one of Newbury’s by-blows, you see. And I’ve been paying her foster-parents for her upkeep all these years. Martin and Victorine Howar
d. They took her off to Ceylon as their own brat, and I bought Martin Howard his coffee estate on condition she was never to be told that she was the bastard daughter of the Marquess of Newbury and one of his whores. That her real mother is, in fact, the woman supposed to be her aunt—a woman that every man in London knows well as Madame Olivier.”
There were more disclosures, of course. Belle-Mere was thorough as well as efficient, and had had Lady Travers followed and her many indiscretions noted. Meetings with Lord Deering, who was openly infatuated with her. Meetings with Madame Olivier, her “aunt.” A discreet chamber kept for her use over her favorite millinery boutique in Burlington Arcade.
“Knowing you, with that stony face of yours, you’ll want to make sure of everything for yourself, won’t you? And you’ll learn even more than I know now, I’ll be bound. But for God’s sake realize at least that you’d be making a laughingstock as well as a fool out of yourself if you persist with this madness. She wants to make a big, ugly scandal of course. Why do you think she encourages Newbury to send her flowers every day? Her father, mind you, and she must know it. So this afternoon it was you, and tonight it will be poor Charles in one of those disgustingly sordid little cubbyholes they rent out in Cremorne Gardens. My dear Nicholas! Even if you are dead set against a match with Helen, at least consider the consequences of this other! The creature is out to use you— or Charles—or anyone else she can sink her claws into, for that matter. Men can be such fools over a pretty face and a pretty figure, and you can get both, as well as some lusty enjoyment, from any whore at Madame Olivier’s!”
Although he was careful not to let Belle-Mere see it, Nicholas had surprised himself by the violence of the wrath he felt like an explosion in his brain when he had realized how devious and how conniving she really was— the little bitch! And cool as a cucumber, she had denied nothing he had accused her of yet. She was obviously a born harlot, and deserved to be treated like one. And as for her virginity—if she had not used some typical whore’s stratagem to fool him, that was—he should remember that all whores were virgin to begin with, and that if he hadn’t been the first some other man would have been. In fact, it was more than possible that she had “chosen” him that night because she had learned he was her father’s heir.
He should have kept his mind detached earlier, while toying with her as he pleased, before taking her in the fashion he had planned to take her—instead of allowing her desperate-sounding sobs to deter him, Nicholas thought grimly now. No doubt, among her other talents she also possessed the facility to shed copious tears whenever it suited her. And then, to top it all, she had just had the cool effrontery to ask him if he had actually murdered his wife, conjuring up memories and images in his mind that he had been trying to forget. Damn her! His fingers itched to close around the slim column of her neck, but instead Nicholas said brusquely, “Here! And this time try to hold the smoke in for as long as possible—it’s one way at least of keeping you silent!” Perhaps she had sensed the consequences that awaited her if she provoked him further, because Alexa obeyed him silently after one sideways glance at his face. And it was then, not being able to resist the impulse any longer, that he shot at her harshly, “Tell me, since we seem to be exchanging confidences at the moment, how did you fall into the habit of visiting bordellos for your amusement? Did your husband know you did it?”
For some illogical reason it infuriated him even more when, instead of flinching away from the blunt question, she was brazen enough to turn her head and look him squarely in the eyes while she answered him coolly.
“It was my husband’s idea that I needed to learn as much as possible about human nature. He knew that he only had a few months to live when he married me, you see, and he wanted me to be prepared. Most women are not, poor things! When I first met you, for instance, how you must have laughed to yourself at my naiveté. I knew nothing, and understood nothing, even about my own body or the sensations that could too easily be aroused by someone unscrupulous—someone used to seducing young girls! But I have learned so much since then, Lord Embry, and from the best teachers in the world, I think.” Alexa shrugged almost challengingly before she added thoughtfully: “Of course, I have been finding out that it is one thing to be told things and even to watch, and quite different when it is actually happening to you. I don’t think I would like to be dependent on a man’s whims or his money to support me. I prefer, in fact, to make my own choices.”
‘ “Do you? And that night in Rome, when you played priestess of Venus... I must admit it makes me curious as to why you happened to visit me. Or did you intend to try out your talents on as many men as possible? Christ!” Nicholas gave a harsh laugh. “I think I begin to understand now. The virgin-whore—knowledgeable, tantalizing, promising everything and giving nothing in the end. That was your intention when you suddenly appeared like an apparition out of a dream, wasn’t it? As I remember it now you did prove that you had learned a great deal since the last time we had been together. And I must admit that I did not expect that you might still be clinging to your pure and virginal state. Did your husband enjoy watching you with other men? Did he instruct you as to how you might lead them up to a certain point before you made some excuse to leave—I’m sure you promised to come back as soon as possible!—and laugh to see how you had managed to fool them?” “If you do not enjoy hearing the truth you should not ask for it. And since you did not know my husband you have no right to say what you did! He...”
Her indignant protest was cut off when Alexa felt his fingers bite into her bare shoulders, twisting her body around so that she could not help falling against him.
“I am glad I did not know your husband, who used you for his own purposes. But I am still curious as to why, by some strange coincidence, you happened to turn up that evening.”
Resentfully, Alexa looked up at him with her eyes slitted. Whatever the drug was that he had forced her to take, it had made her free of fear. Her mind felt very clear and free, as if it floated separately from her body. And her words were clear and carefully pronounced. “You want to know? I watched you make love with Maddalena in the room of mirrors one night, and I thought then that I wanted you. After all, it was you who first made me aware of sensuality and certain feelings that could be aroused in my body, in spite of the protests of my mind. Yes, you! If I had not been with you that night on the beach, then Sir John might not have had to save my reputation by telling everyone we had just become engaged. And...but what does it matter now? I lost my virginity and my husband on the same night, Nicholas Dameron! My illusions and my innocence I had lost a long time before.” And then she said with a soft laugh that seemed to come from someone inside herself that wasn’t even her at all: “But what does all that matter? Now that we know the worst about each other and have played at question and answer, am I to find out for what other reason you brought me here or may I go home to sleep? I would not miss your Belle-Mere’s ball and the announcement of your betrothal to Helen for the world.”
Face down the crouching, sleek-muscled predator.
Never turn your eyes away or let him sense fear, or you are lost....
There was a moment, as she looked deep into the green darkness of his eyes, that Alexa thought she saw what death looked like. And then, acting purely instinctively, she yielded to the tightening hold of his fingers on her shoulders and leaned more closely against him, letting her fingers trail teasingly down his chest and even further before he pushed her roughly backward with a muttered obscenity. And she laughed as she caught him closer and felt the smooth movement of muscles under his flesh and met the violence of his knife-plunge into her with the upward arch of her hips, feeling him inside her and against her with every sensitive nerve ending.
“Puta!” he whispered harshly with his lips only inches away from hers. “I can tell you’ve had plenty of practice.” He put his hands under her to raise her against him and Alexa gasped, feeling and following the motion of his body as he turned and turned her with h
im so that she was astride his loins now, her long tangled mane of gold streaked bronze hair hanging down to brush his face and his chest before she shook it back for a moment, leaning over him again; and their duel of thrust and counter-thrust continued.
“Aren’t you glad of it? This practice that makes me a puta? Only you’re mistaken, you know. I do not need to charge a fee for whatever gives me pleasure. I can choose for myself. Does this give you pleasure, your Lordship? Do you enjoy being my stallion?”
“As long as you ride me well and pleasingly, my Lady.” Accepting her unexpected challenge, Nicholas laughed suddenly and thought, why not? She was certainly more appealing this way—willing and even slightly aggressive—than she had been as a sullen victim. After all, what had he expected or wanted from her that went beyond this? Why should it be of any account to him how many other men had been caressed by her and kissed by her and tempted by her? The sea nymph he had almost trapped and the trembling virgin he had foolishly left intact had only been illusive images he’d allowed his own mind to conjure up. The well-trained whore whose every movement was calculated and practiced was the real woman and had always been. It was he who should have known better, who had deceived himself.
It was like a jousting match, this unacknowledged contest of skills and wills between them; and the changing pattern of their bodies against rumpled sheets was reflected in the mirrors that had been carefully placed in the room for just such a purpose. “So you saw me with Maddalena? Did you enjoy what you saw, you sly little bitch?”
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