Part 20 (1/2)
Byron held court at one end of the table, Brummell at the other. Each tried to outdo the other by spewing forth questionable remarks and obscure references regarding the forthcoming wedding night. Most of their meaning was lost on her, thank goodness, but others at the table found them wickedly amusing, snickering into their cups as they looked knowingly between her and the Prince.
On top of this, that idiotic fop, Creighton, had snuffled his way through the meal, inappropriate French phrases dropping from his lips like je ne sais quoi; while Lady Harcorte barely took her eyes off of Nickolai.
The worst, worst part of it was having to sit next to her hus-him the entire evening while he made a great show of being ever so solicitous of her needs. Filling her plate with the choicest morsels. Inquiring if she would like more wine. And when no one was looking, placing his hand on her thigh under the table in blatant owners.h.i.+p, his challenging, laughing eyes meeting hers.
When she finally had been able to excuse herself, she had rushed headlong back to her room only to find that her only refuge had been marred by the sheer, white, lacy nightgown Emmy had left draped across her bed. It waved at her like a white flag on the battlefield of defeat.
Lilac had tossed it out the window and proceeded to don her heaviest night rail. It dragged on the floor and b.u.t.toned up to her chin.
Lilac eyed the door to the connecting room warily. She had no intentions of sleeping with the lout even though he had informed her earlier that he had no intentions of sleeping in the connecting room. Uncivilized oaf! Who ever heard of a man and a woman sharing the same room! The same bed.
Well, she just wouldn't do it!
He had tricked her! She hadn't figured out how yet, but she would. Her shoulders slumped. Lilac honestly admitted to herself that she had sorely underestimated his capabilities. The man was exceedingly clever. It wasn't sporting of him to hide all that cleverness under that beautiful facade.
His stunning looks had thrown her off; she wouldn't make the same mistake again. As soon as he showed himself, she intended to toss him out-right on his taut, compact little rump! Lilac slapped her hands together as if the distasteful job was finished. She had worked herself into a fine lather. Just let him try to- He stood in the connecting doorway.
He was leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his wide chest, idly watching her while she paced the room muttering to herself. A red silken robe and nothing else clung to him.
My word.
Irrationally, she fumed at how good he looked. There wasn't a woman on the entire planet who could deal with that! The thought that he might be wearing the infamous robe written about in the Morning Post flickered across her mind before sanity returned. Under the circ.u.mstances, an offensive attack was best.
She whirled on him.
”You have what you want now-my property, my things, my house! Get out!”
Rejar viewed her calmly.
”I have no need of your property, your things or your house. But you are right”-his eyes did a slow survey from the top of her head to the tips of her pink toes peeking out from under the voluminous gown-”I have what I want.”
His blatant action made her blush to her pink little toes. Lilac threw her arms up in the air. ”Why are you doing this?”
Because I cannot look upon another woman without seeing your face; because your scent follows me even into my dreams, because I want you beyond everything in my life. And because, my wife, you belong to me as I belong to you. He only replied, ”I told you before-I have my reasons.”
As an answer, Lilac deemed it insufficient. A vase came hurtling towards his head.
He didn't even blink.
Pottery crashed against the wall not two feet from his head. Not one muscle in that sculpted physique moved.
This infuriated the woman of logic all the more.
She clenched her fists. ”I don't understand you! I don't understand any of this! How did you know all those things about me?” She gritted her teeth to ask the unaskable. ”How did you know of the birthmark on my ... thigh?”
His eyes sparkled devilishly. He blinked twice, those ridiculously long lashes fanning his cheekbones. A dimple curved his left cheek. ”Meow,” he whispered to her.
Lilac hesitated. Was he mocking her? Making light of her upset? How dare he! Another vase crashed against the wall followed by a screech of outrage.
Downstairs, Emmy raised her eyes to the ceiling. ”Cor, what a racket! Is that 'er cat a screechin' like that?” she asked Jackie.
”Naw-'t'is the mistress-s.h.i.+p 'erself.”
”Is 'e killin' 'er then?” Emmy worried.
Jackie snickered. ”Yes, but a 'little death' ne'er 'urt no one, eh, Emmy?” He elbowed the plump maid in the side.
Emmy smiled knowingly at him. ”Listen-it's gone quiet up there now.”
A first edition of Lady of the Lake sailed by him, landing on the carpet with a dull thud. Rejar was getting tired of this particular game. It was time to enlighten her on the facts of life and move on to the next level of play.
”Have you ever wondered why you have never seen your 'precious' cat around me?” He asked in a detached mien. ”For that matter, why you have never seen us together? And why do you suppose it is that we both have the same eyes-one of each color?”
Lilac's brow furrowed. What did this have to do with anything? ”Not really. I will admit when I first met you I thought it an odd coincidence that you both had similar-”
”Not similar. Identical.”
”What are you saying?” she asked sarcastically. ”That you knew my every move because you have some kind of strange communion with my cat?”
”No. I am saying, my Lilac, that I am your cat.”
She laughed hysterically. ”Are you ill? I have never heard such a ridiculous tale in my life. Think up a better one, your Highness.”
He gave her The Smile.
A chill raced down her spine. If ever there was a man who reminded one of a ... She paled. ”I am a woman of good sense and sound judgment! I cannot credit such a wild story. As I say-try again.”
The red silk material pulled taut over the muscles in his crossed arms. His long black hair slid forward to curtain his face as he inclined his head, patiently in wait. ”Really?”
Lilac faltered for a moment. The picture he made was of an utterly sensuous man. An utterly untamed man. She tried to regain her composure. ”Positively. Next you'll tell me that the dreams-” She stopped abruptly, realizing what she almost revealed to him.
His head snapped up. With a sardonic grin, he abandoned his casual stance by the door and began a deliberate pace towards her. ”Those dreams-my sweet, sweet Lilac-were not dreams.”
Her mouth parted in surprise. Did he know about the dreams as well? Her face flushed. How? ”I don't know what game you're playing, but I do not find it amusing! You may leave.” She waved her hand as if to brush the debris out.
He stopped in front of her and pierced her with a steely gaze.
She swallowed convulsively. The Prince could be most intimidating.
Lifting his hand, he insolently ran the tip of his finger down the side of her face. He stopped his motion long enough to rub the pad back and forth over the sensitive spot in front of her ear. Excited nerve endings instantly sizzled to his expert touch.
Somehow, it did not surprise her that he knew this about her as well.
He continued to trace his fingertips lightly along the underside of her jaw to her chin. With a simple upward flick of his thumb, he positioned her mouth to his liking.
”Stop,” she whispered nervously.
”I think not,” he murmured.