Part 6 (1/2)
”And the child?”
She frowned. ”He will stay with me.”
”Fine. So long as you leave me in peace.”
His words should have had no power to wound her, for they were exactly what she expected. Jack stood and pulled off his untied cravat, tossing it to one side. He paused long enough to refill his gla.s.s and take another drink, wavering a bit as he did so. He was drunk. Fiona's heart sank a bit lower. He would come to her bed now and do his duty, and she...what would she do? Her body and mind seemed strangely divorced, and she dreaded the coming moments. Dreaded what had once been the most amazing event of her life. Her memories were deeply colored by their pa.s.sion, but now it would not be the same. Gone was the concern, the caring. All that was left was anger and distrust.
Jack yanked his s.h.i.+rt over his head and tossed it to the floor. Within moments, his breeches followed suit, and he stood before her, naked.
The firelight flickered over his body, tracing the ridges of his chest, caressing the flatness of his stomach,
limning the powerful muscles of his arms and shoulders. He was beautiful. She'd forgotten how just the sight of him could warm her with antic.i.p.ation, even now.
”Why are you still dressed?” he asked harshly.
”I was cold.”
His lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. ”If we are to make a child, you will have to make sacrifices.”
She managed to nod. ”Of course.” She reached up and untied her gown, her gaze still fixed upon him. There was something intent about him, something coiled. His eyes were dark, his body tense, as if he were about to pounce.
Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, she decided, looking up into his blue, blue eyes and noting the thick curl of his lashes. He would pounce, and it would feel ever so wonderful. She knew that already. He was a heartbreaker, exquisitely skilled in bed and ready to take his pleasure by giving it.
She bit her lip to fight a s.h.i.+ver. She wanted to throw her arms around Jack and kiss him mindlessly, encourage him to continue with this seduction. She wanted to put a hand to his cheek and rub her palm over his shadow beard, letting the stubble rasp against her skin.
She wanted to twine her arms around his neck more tightly and pull his mouth to hers and taste once again that hot, smoky pa.s.sion that simmered between them. Oh, G.o.d, this is really it.They were alone in his bedroom, they were married, there was nothing stopping them from consummating their union. Nothing at all.
She gave a nervous glance around. ”Ah, this is a lovely room.”
His gaze never wavered from her. ”Lovely, indeed.”
Cheeks hot, Fiona tried to find something to distract her unruly thoughts long enough for her to regain
control of herself. ”It's an exquisite chamber. Is the rug an Aubusson?” ”Yes.” Jack walked across that very rug toward the bed, his movements fluid and deadly. ”The rug is Aubusson.”
”And the clock is-”
”Ormolu.” He paused beside the bed. ”The chairs are Hepplewhite. The table is a Pembroke, and the painting over the mantel is by Rubens. Anything else you wish to know?”
”You certainly know your furnis.h.i.+ngs. I don't believe my brothers even notice ours.” Fiona sent Jack a curious look. ”Why do you know the names of all this?”
”Because it is mine.”
”And yet...you didn't bother with the name of my footman?”
”Footmen, like all people, come and go. This house will be here as long as I am.”
She forced herself not to look at him, standing so beautiful and naked beside the bed. Ah! The picture above the fireplace. ”Th-that is a lovely painting.” It depicted a red-haired lady looking into the face of her lover, her expression one of sensual longing. ”She's, ah...naked.”
”As all beautiful women should be.” The bed sagged where he sat on the edge, his hip now against her leg.
She tried to move away, but the sheets held her in place.
He placed his hand over her knee. Fiona sat stock-still, her heart pounding so loudly she wondered if he could hear it. ”Jack, perhaps...perhaps we should wait a bit, until-”
”No. You wanted this marriage, MacLean. You wanted it so badly you took my freedom to get it. And now you've got it.”
She glared up at him, anger burning away some of her trepidation. ”I didn't want to be tossed onto the bed and-” She tried to calm her quavering voice. ”Jack, there is no reason we cannot at least proceed with civility.”
”Civility? Was it civil when you had me abducted and dragged to the altar like a sack of potatoes?”
She hated it when he was right. Really,really hated it. She took a deep breath and tried again. ”Look, Jack-”
”If I am to do this, then it will be onmy terms.”
He gave her no choice. She only wished he would not argue with her while he was naked; it was difficult to make a coherent point with such a distraction. ”What are your terms?”
He leaned forward. ”When you are in my home, you will stay in my bed.”
She couldn't swallow. Or breathe. Or even make a sound. She could only nod.
”Furthermore,” he continued, his gaze traveling down to her lips, ”you will do so with appropriate enthusiasm.”
She found her voice. ”You would have me pretend to feel something I do not?”
His hand cupped her breast, and Fiona jerked, her skin aflame, her breathing ragged as pure l.u.s.t shot through her.
He smiled, a satisfied look on his face. ”You won't have to pretend with me, love.”
Fiona wished she could leave, run away as fast as she could and never look back. But if she returned home without Jack, her brothers would be furious. She would never make them believe that she'd walked away of her own free will; they'd think Jack had left her, which would be an unforgivable insult.
She took a deep breath. ”Very well. You are right that we cannot do this halfway. We-we must do this with 'enthusiasm.'”
The fire crackled and popped. Jack cupped her chin in his large, warm hand and turned her face to his. She almost gasped at the burning expression in his eyes; if she was aflame, he was afire. He wanted her, desired her pa.s.sionately.
Fiona's body quivered with answered need.
He slowly lowered his lips to hers, and Fiona was lost in a flood of heat and sensation. Without another thought, she gave herself over to the pa.s.sion that Jack's kiss stirred.
He felt her body soften into his, and he slid his hands up and down her body, cupping her to him, pressing his manhood to her.
He burned with l.u.s.t and pa.s.sion, seasoned with the faintest hint of anger. Distasteful as it was, marriage was now his lot in life. But if he had to be married, he might as well get something from it.
He ran his hand down her back to her hip, then her thigh. She moved restlessly, pressing against him, her mouth seeking his with increasing desperation. ”Is this what you want?” he murmured against her lips. He pressed his hand between her thighs. ”Or this?”