Surrender To Love. Rosemary Rogers

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      “How can you possibly preach to me about honesty and truth and what is natural when you are such a hypocrite yourself? I think you have learned only too well to use certain words and catchphrases in order to achieve your ends, and to twist things about until…Well, I don’t care what you say any longer, or how you taunt me, because I…Oh! I may be naive and silly and all of the other things you’ve implied, but at least you have opened my eyes to…Why, you are nothing but a disgusting lecher!”

      “I must admit that lecher, especially delivered in that particular tone, sounds positively cutting! In case you should be prompted to use the word again, that is. But on the other hand, if you should really want to sound insulting, you might try ‘bastard,’ or even…”

      “I would really prefer not to hear any more!” Alexa interrupted acidly while she tried valiantly to hold on to her treacherous temper. “In fact, you surely must be quite aware that the only reason I am still in your company is because…Well, I don’t care! If you do not have the decency to return my mother’s bracelet to me, then I have no choice but to consider it stolen and you the thief. And moreover, if you will not immediately escort me back inside I am quite capable of finding my own way! By now my aunt…”

      His sudden laugh was unpleasant and made Alexa start nervously before she could prevent herself from doing so. “Dios! Why should I give a damn, after all, about what you seem to be and what you turn out to be? As you have reminded me, Miss Howard, I am old enough to know better than to believe in illusions. Mermaids and sea nymphs are only myths, after all, and the magical, ethereal qualities they are said to possess merely a product of man’s wishful imagination. Surrendering one’s rational mind to the spell of the moon is as foolish as believing in chaste young goddesses who come to give themselves up to the moon and are surprised by vile man with all his base instincts!”

      “I don’t…Please!” Alexa did not realize that she had whispered that last word almost pleadingly until she heard herself.

      “Of course. My apologies. You want your mother’s bracelet back since it has such sentimental value. Don’t worry, you shall have it back as soon as I…Ah, here it is.”

      Most of the candles that had made the gaily colored lanterns glow had guttered out by now; but as if to compensate there was the yellow-gold light of the setting moon slanting dimly across the gallery from the west as it seemed to search out a hiding place in the moving, restless sea.

      Hiding? Was that really what she was doing? Hiding from whatever was her real self? And who was her real self? She would find out for herself some day. In any case, it certainly wasn’t any of his business!

      Stiffly, Alexa forced herself to say: “Thank you. And I suppose it was rather rude of me not to say before how grateful I am that you…” Behind her awkwardly stammered words a picture flashed through her mind of the shape of a body cutting through black water to rise suddenly and after almost too long, to break through a moon-silvered surface. An arm—uplifted for a moment in a mocking salute. He must have been holding her bracelet then!

      “Your fingers feel as cold as ice, Miss Howard!” The rough impatience in his voice stiffened her spine, even as he added, “Here, let me fasten the clasp for you. I suppose you’re used to having your maid perform such tasks, although you might remind her the next time to be more careful…”

      With her precious bracelet fastened safely about her wrist once again, sheer relief if nothing else made Alexa say snappishly: “I do not have a maid who waits on me hand and foot, and I am not so helpless as to expect someone else to clasp a bracelet about my wrist! And besides, I do not possess many pieces of jewelry either!”

      “No? But what a pity! Although I’m quite sure that you soon will have if you follow all the rules and catch yourself a wealthy husband who will be able to provide you with every luxury you might desire.”

      “Catch? What a denigrating word! And why, pray, do you imagine that I should need to catch myself a husband? I am sure that if it comes to that there will be more than enough men who would want to catch me for me to choose from when the time comes!”

      “Ah! A flash of honesty at last!” Alexa could almost sense the lift of one patronizing black brow. “But it’s very wise of you, moon maid, to let them do the chasing, without committing yourself too soon. It puts the price up as well, although I don’t mean to sound crude.”

      “But of course you did. And far from being in the least honest yourself you’re a hypocrite, which is even worse. And…” Alexa’s unruly tongue ran away with her as her volatile temper passed boiling point, and she almost spat out the ultimate insult that he had taught her. “You’re…Why, you bastard!”

      “You certainly pick things up quickly, I see,” he drawled aggravatingly. “And don’t think you’d get away with going for me with those sharp little claws of yours, because I can move faster than you can and as you’ve already surmised I’m not your usual polite gentleman—I don’t possess too many scruples either.”

      “You’ve certainly made that much quite obvious, haven’t you?” Breathing deeply, Alexa made an attempt at icy coldness, although her voice still shook slightly. “And you’re a cruel man as well. I think you enjoy fixing others on the sharp pins of your ridicule and your sarcasm, just to watch them squirm. Well, if I’ve provided you with enough sport for one evening I should like to be escorted back to my aunt, if you please. I am not enjoying myself—or your company either.”

      “No? But then, since I am a bastard, why should I let that make any difference to me?” Suddenly, the mockery in his voice deepened to harshness as he added, “And that, little virgin bitch-goddess, is why I intend to claim my forfeit for returning that precious bracelet of yours before I return you to your tía dueña!”

      Without warning he had grasped her roughly by the shoulders; his fingers pressing into her flesh as he bent her backward against the railing; and during those first few instants Alexa thought fearfully that he meant to break her in two. And then his lips descended over hers with all the fierceness of an eagle swooping on its prey, cutting off her breath along with her reason, so that for some moments she actually thought that he meant to kill her as Othello had killed Desdemona—with a punishing kiss.

      Was it only terror that held her still after her first, shamefully brief attempt to tear herself free? Alexa felt her head fall helplessly back against his arm as he forced her lips apart to explore her mouth, and almost instinctively she raised her arms, meaning to beat against him with her fists before it—the same strange thing that had happened to her before—seemed to take hold of her. That frightening, helpless feeling as if all her bones were melting and running together, so that she could hardly stand and needed to hold on to him for support. Heat—suddenly flooding through her to make her face, her breasts, her whole body burn and tingle as if she had a fever that had rendered her mindless and incapable of resisting either him or her own worse instincts. She felt the rippling movement of the muscles in his back, even under the jacket he wore, and remembered without shame how he had looked naked—the feel of his flesh under her hands. And now her fingers touched his hair, wanting on their own to memorize its texture; and if she didn’t know what she was doing or why, she wasn’t sane enough to care at that moment. Not even when he brushed his fingers gently and teasingly down from her temple and along the arch of her neck—and even further down to touch her breasts, seeming to burn through the stuff of her gown and knowing exactly where to linger.

      Why was she encumbered by so many layers of clothing anyhow? Alexa realized suddenly, or rather her body did, that she wanted the feel of his fingers against her skin, touching her everywhere, not stopping. No thinking to cloud this surge of pure, primitive feeling. She felt like a pitch-soaked torch, suddenly

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