you must.’ His eyes passed over her with a leisurely ease and he reached out a hand to caress her thigh, laughing softly when she shrank further away from him. ‘Would you like me to help?’
‘Please don’t touch me again,’ she managed to utter, horrified and shocked to the core of her being by what she had done. ‘You’ve done your worst—you’ve defiled me, you—you lecher—now leave me alone.’
He heaved himself out of bed and, to Delphine’s relief, pulled on his trousers. ‘Such cruelty. And if I don’t?’ he teased, walking round the bed to stand in front of her, hands on hips, not touching, but near enough that she was trapped and could not move without coming into contact with him.
‘I’ll scream the place down.’ Tall though she was, he topped her by a full head.
‘I doubt that would do any good.’ He grinned quite devilishly. ‘Oakley knows better than to interrupt me when I’m entertaining a lady.’
‘A lady is exactly what I was—my life one of chastity and restraint, before I encountered you,’ Delphine cried wretchedly, pushing him away and beginning to pull on her underclothes, though she found it impossible to stop her violent shaking and her thin petticoat offered little protection. How she wished he would complete his dressing and put on a shirt. ‘What you have done to me makes me feel like a … a scarlet woman.’
The silver, early-morning sunlight drifting through the window glowed on his bare chest, showing him lithe and dangerous like a panther. Her nerves stretched taut, she raked her trembling fingers through her hair, combing it as best she could before securing it in a knot in the nape of her neck. Leaning on the bedpost with his arms folded across his chest, Stephen continued to watch her. When her gaze fell on the blood that stained the rumpled sheets, her cheeks flushed scarlet: her shame was complete.
Stephen shifted his gaze from her angry face to the bed, then back to her, and their eyes met. She was a most desirable young woman, but with a subdued, ladylike composure. The bold ones always drew immediate attention, yet they could not always keep it. Delphine Cameron was of prime quality and, until her encounter with him, unsullied. His awakened passion had made him more forceful than he’d intended and he did not recall her saying no.
‘I now understand the truth of your inexperience, Delphine. I do not know why you agreed to let Oakley bring you to me—that is your affair—and if you are now full of regret then that, too, is your affair, but I cannot regret trying you before other men. Nor do I feel any guilt over the pleasure you have given me—although if you choose to be a woman of pleasure, then you need to be taught the finer arts of the profession. You are very beautiful. Such spirit and passion—a woman worthy of being loved. It would be a task for any man not to want to make love to you.’
Delphine’s face reddened at his words, at what he incorrectly imagined she aspired to be. But she could not escape the fact that the second time he had made love to her had held some surprises, for she had not found him quite so loathsome then. And now, at this very moment, she wanted more than anything to run her hands across his muscled shoulders and down his chest. Her gaze lingered about his narrow waist and hips and taut, flat stomach. She trembled, her eyes darkened and instantly slid away from him, as if the temptation was more than she could bear.
She reeled with self-disgust at what she threatened to become—that most despised of all women: a loose woman. She had sampled the pleasures of the flesh, craved it. She was dissolute, wanton—but it was this stranger who had made her so. He had unleashed that wantonness within her and now she was afraid of herself.
‘You were like a breath of fresh air,’ he went on softly, ‘after an evening spent in an overcrowded tavern. You have the kind of beauty that would tempt a saint.’
‘In matters of debauchery you don’t need anyone to lure you.’ She bestowed on him an accusatory glare before lowering her gaze, reluctant to meet his eyes as she hurriedly fumbled with her bodice. She turned aside to hide her nakedness from him, but his hands came to assist, fastening the catches of her gown. When his fingers lingered on her neck she gasped and moved away, casting a quick nervous glance at him, fearful of what might happen if he came at her again, for she was absolutely certain she could not withstand his persuasive, unrelenting assault.
‘Please do not touch me again—I beg of you,’ she pleaded. ‘You have done me a grave injustice. Have you no conscience? I am not a strumpet, nor do I wish to be.’
Stephen’s eyes narrowed at her words, the seeds of doubt beginning to take root. ‘But Oakley found you in a whorehouse, did he not? That was his intended destination last night.’
‘Yes, that was where he found me,’ she confirmed, her voice ragged with emotion, ‘but I was there looking for a missing child. Working at the orphanage and treating young and old for minor ailments is my profession, Colonel Fitzwaring, not prostitution. Your Mr Oakley led me to believe you were sick and in need of attention. I now fully comprehend the misunderstanding—on both our parts. Mr Oakley was looking for a woman by the name of Delphine, a woman at the bordello who has assumed my name for no other reason than because she happens to like it. It is unfortunate for me that I did not comprehend this at the time.’
Stephen nodded his head slowly as he began to understand the mistake. ‘Yes, it was—and very stupid.’
‘How could I know that I was about to fall prey to a degenerate, unprincipled libertine?’
Stephen scowled. ‘That bad?’ he asked softly. ‘No matter. It’s too late for recriminations now. The deed is done and there is no going back.’
‘And I am totally ruined,’ she said, her voice thick with recrimination. ‘You callous beast. I am flattered that you found a romp on the bed with me entertaining, Colonel, but I truly wish you had sought a woman who would appreciate your advances rather than one who loathes you. Does it not concern you that you raped me and that I do not wish to be here?’
Stephen studied her with a great deal of interest. ‘It is beginning to and I cannot say that I blame you. Although, as I remember it, you had plenty of time to warn me of my error before we got to bed.’
He stared down at her. He was sorry for what he had done, for not bothering to find out more about her and for not taking the time to make love to her properly as she deserved. He longed to explain away the extraordinary circumstances and his own behaviour, to lay the blame elsewhere, but he could not. He shook his head and the shamefaced, penitent cast of his features softened. His eyes were steady and honest, and he did not avoid her gaze as he spoke.
‘I will not lie to you, but last night I truly believed you were—’
‘A whore,’ she provided for him coldly.
‘Yes—that. Men are weak creatures, Delphine, when their manhood is involved, and cannot resist a beautiful woman. But I swear I would not have touched you had I known you were chaste.’ A small smile broke across his features and he moved to stand closer to her. Before she could protest, he took her hands and drew her to him. ‘However,’ he murmured, his eyes lingering on her lips, ‘I did touch you—and more than that. And now I am reluctant to let you go. So a kiss before you leave me, Delphine—something I can remember you by. Let us see if I can thaw some of that ice from your lips.’
So saying, he lowered his head and placed his lips on hers, kissing her long, almost lovingly, arching her body against his. He ravished her mouth, savouring the honey sweetness of her lips and the intoxicating nearness of her body, and all logical thought flew from his mind. He held her to him, luxuriating in the feel of her, the warmth of her, her desirability. One
