it was over almost before she could believe it had happened. With a final, lingering caress at the corner of her mouth, he drew back, releasing her.
Her eyes fluttered open. She hadn’t even realised they were shut. He was still close, close enough that she could see his pulse beating in his throat.
His voice came, calm and soft. ‘Perhaps that will make things clearer.’
She could only nod, certain that without breath her voice would not function. And then she wondered why she had nodded as though things were clearer. She was more confused than ever. How he could speak so indifferently was beyond her comprehension. He had kissed her until her head spun. Grimly she reminded herself of Lady Moncrieff. He’s used to beautiful women. Women who know how to…to please a man. Whatever that means. Why would his head spin? Why would he even kiss her? He couldn’t want her. Could he?
‘Well, Selina? Do you understand now?’
Only too well. Braced against the gentleness in his voice, she turned to go. Oh, yes. She understood well enough. But Max would never try to force her consent.
His hand shot out and caught her wrist.
Shock, as much as his grip, held her motionless. Fear stirred and knotted. She ignored it and fought to infuse her voice with icy indifference. ‘Sir?’
‘A moment, Selina.’
It was not a request. The grip on her wrist sent the knot of fear twisting through her stomach. Oh, no. Surely not him too. Could she have been mistaken in him? Tension singing through her, she faced him, trying to force her breathing to steady.
His intent gaze rested on her face, then dropped to her captive wrist. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said. His hand fell from her and she felt bereft, as though part of her had torn itself away.
Resisting the urge to hold the wrist to her cheek, she waited, some of her fear allayed.
‘Not all positions require references, Selina. And I can assure you I would be a gentler lover than Godfrey Faringdon has been.’
Tension gripped her again. Carefully, slowly, she stepped back, holding his gaze with hers, certain that any moment he would grab her, drag her into his arms. Men didn’t really ask. Men took.
‘I…I should not be here, my lord. Please excuse me.’ She backed away, her gaze never leaving his face, the bright topaz eyes watching her like a big cat, until she reached the door. Then she fled.
Max swore. She had refused him. Without hesitation. And her life here was hell. She was treated like a slave. How could enduring that be preferable to a discreet and well-paid liaison with himself? She didn’t dislike him. She had responded to his kiss. She couldn’t possibly have thought he would offer marriage. So why the devil wouldn’t she even consider being his mistress? Obviously her birth was respectable. She didn’t speak like a servant. Perhaps his offer had shocked her.
After what Godfrey had doubtless done to her? He stalked to the door. Surely she didn’t think he’d ever force her? Had he frightened her with that brief kiss? Had she realised the fierce depth of his desire for her? He’d had to control every muscle in his body not to ravish her, plunder the soft mouth. She was sweetness incarnate. It had taken every ounce of willpower to draw back, when all he had wanted… He swore again. She’d only had to glance down and what he wanted would have been all too obvious.
It was still making its painful presence felt ten minutes later when he reached the billiard room. Picking up a cue, he considered his next move. His next move? On the rare occasions a woman refused him, he accepted her reply and dropped the pursuit. In fact he usually realised before ever broaching the subject. He sent a red ball crashing into a pocket. Why couldn’t he accept Selina’s refusal? He shook his head. When had he ever wanted a woman so much that his body continued to ache after she had refused him and gone?
Perhaps she needed time to think it over. She hadn’t exactly refused. He ran over her reply. I should not be here, my lord. Please excuse me. Perhaps she needed some reassurance that he wouldn’t leave her penniless at the end of their liaison. Maybe he hadn’t made that clear.
He thought back. And closed his eyes in disbelief at his own stupidity. Apart from telling her that he’d be gentler than Godfrey, he’d offered her nothing. Nothing beyond a casual tumble. No wonder she’d refused. All he had to do was find her and explain…explain what?
He didn’t know himself what he wanted. Only that Selina was very different. That in taking her under his protection, he would be doing just that. Protecting her.
Verity lay in bed, shivering. The warmth of the day lingered, but she couldn’t stop shaking. Her memory refused to listen to wisdom, continuing to dwell on the tender strength of his hands, the gentle pressure of his kiss. That was bad enough, but for her body to join in the treacherous assault shocked her. What sort of wanton creature ached and trembled at the mere memory of a kiss that had lasted about three seconds?
It would have to last a lifetime. She didn’t dare see him again. Grimly she admitted that it was not that she did not trust him. Rather, she could not trust herself. Her whole being cried out to let him hold her, touch her.
Stop it! He wants a great deal more than just to hold you. He wants exactly what Godfrey wants. Nothing else. A gentle, persuasive voice murmured, Would it be so bad to be his mistress? He would be kind to you…you’d be free. You could purchase an annuity. They’d never dare to take you back after that…even if you are a minor.
No! She wouldn’t, she couldn’t. She mustn’t. Things weren’t so bad that she needed to sell herself into whoredom. Besides, perhaps he didn’t want her as his mistress. Chances were she had completely misunderstood him and that he simply wanted to bed her while he was here. That was much more likely. Even if he did want more… She shied away from the thought, shocked at her own weakness.
A little voice asked, How much longer can you hold Godfrey off? Wouldn’t it be better—
No! If only she could think of some way to leave when she came of age. Just over a year. She shut her eyes in despair at the bitter reality. She had nothing—no money, no other connections. She would be no safer if she did leave.
A soft tap on the door shocked her bolt upright. Who would bother knocking? Certainly not Godfrey…
‘Selina? Are you awake?’ The deep voice went straight through her like a spear. What could he possibly want?
Exactly what he wanted this afternoon.
‘Y…yes.’
‘May I come in?’
How can I stop you?
‘By saying no,’ came the quiet response. Dismayed, she realised that she had spoken aloud. And that even if she let him in, she was safe enough. He had knocked, requesting her permission to enter. He has a gentle way with women and children…
‘Come in.’ She felt as though those two simple words had brought her to the edge of a precipice, to hang trembling over the unknown.
Clutching her blanket to her, she watched, wary, as the door opened and he came in. His lamp cast a mellow flickering glow so that she saw his face shadowed, as she had remembered it for five long years. In that light she could almost forget that he was Blakehurst. She could almost pretend that this was one of her dreams
