Part 6 (1/2)

”I'm not.”

His look was skeptical; she gave up. ”I don't know. I've so longed for this-for what almost happened-and then I became afraid.”

He cupped her cheek, his eyes dark. ”That's understandable, I think. I was very rough and

very demanding. I am sorry. And no apology will do. But now you know the truth. The beast isfar stronger than that other man. He doesn't exist. It was a sham, Francesca, a total sham.” ”No!” she cried. Hart straightened and began to pace. ”There is no excuse for my behavior,” he said tersely.”We can both pretend that I am n.o.ble, but in the end, the truth will out.” She covered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with her s.h.i.+rt. ”You are n.o.ble! You have been nothing but n.o.ble withme!” He made a disparaging sound. ”I promised you a wedding night, Francesca, but tonight Iactually changed my mind.” His eyes darkened with more anger. ”Tonight I wanted to takeyou on the floor.” She became uneasy knowing he had a point to make and afraid of what it might be. ”Weboth lost control, Calder, not for the first time,” she added, trying to smile and soften hismood. ”I am always in control,” he said, staring down at her. ”The fact is, you deserve someone farbetter than myself. Tonight I almost took you for all the wrong reasons. I could have hurt youin more ways than one.” She did not like the look in his eyes or the expression on his face. Her heart raced withsickening force. She slowly said, ”But you didn't hurt me. And you didn't break the promiseyou made, either. And that is what counts.” He started for a long moment. ”Will you ever admit that I am not half the man my brother is?” She cried out. ”You are a good man, Calder Hart! A very good man! Please, don't bringRick between us!” ”I can't decide if you really believe that or you are merely determined to pretend to believewhat you wish to believe.” She strode to him, forgetting how barely clad she was. ”I won't let you do this. Yes, we lostsome control, and yes, we almost slept together, but we didn't. Not because you are trying tobe n.o.ble, but because you are n.o.ble, Calder.” He softened and his gaze slipped. ”Your chemise is slipping-but I don't mind.” She realized she had ceased covering herself. Pulling the garment closed and blus.h.i.+ng, shereturned his smile, praying they had finished a subject she had no wish to continue. He turned away, raking his fingers through his short hair. She was surprised to see his handtrembling. ”You had better get dressed before someone catches us in this verycompromising position.” She slipped on the s.h.i.+rtwaist and b.u.t.toned it with clumsy fingers. ”I fear that posing for thatportrait has already rained me.” He glanced at her, his gaze skipping to her cleavage as she did up the remaining b.u.t.tons.”Your portrait remains our secret, Francesca. As much as I would love to display it to theworld as a work of art, I never will.” Something s.e.xual stirred within her. ”Then I should certainly be the scandal in this city.” He turned and gazed oddly at her. ”Yes.” Her unease escalated. His tone had lightened but his mood remained the harbinger ofsome terrible, deadly storm. Hart was the most complicated man she had ever met and shefelt certain she would never fully understand him. ”Why are you looking at me like that?” sheasked in dismay. He said grimly, ”Your mother called today.” She stiffened in alarm. ”I see,” she said. ”Julia is at the bottom of this!” ”She worries about your welfare, as she should.” ”Because of you?” she gasped. ”No, because of your sleuthing. I did my best to rea.s.sure her,” he added, his gaze holdinghers. ”Thank you,” she said warily. ”Of course, I did point out that you work closely with the police, and that guarantees quite abit of protection.”

She wished he had not returned to the topic of Rick Bragg. ”Working with the police doesinsure some amount of protection,” she agreed very carefully. He faced her, hands on his slim hips. ”Julia thinks it inappropriate for you to continue to workwith my brother.” She smiled and it felt like a grimace. ”So now we get to the heart of the matter.” ”An interesting choice of words.” His smile was brittle. ”I would have said the bottom of thematter.” She bristled. ”Calder, don't. I am marrying you, not Rick.” He stared at her. She stared back. Then slowly, ”And what do you think?” He turned away. ”You already know what I think.” She knew he wanted to marry her-although she still didn't quite comprehend why-and sheknew he hated the fact that she had once been in love with his half brother. She knew hechose to view himself as selfish and self-serving. She sighed. ”I am not referring to what youthink about our relations.h.i.+p or yourself. Do you agree with my mother?” ”I actually prefer you to chase hooks and crooks and the worst sort of felons with Rick thanby yourself.” Relief filled her; she smiled. ”Thank you.” He faced her sternly. ”From this moment on, I am giving you Raoul as your driver. He will goeverywhere with you, Francesca.” She tensed. ”He will be my driver or my chaperon? Or perhaps he will be a spy?” Her tonehad turned to acid. He said far too smoothly, ”He will actually be your bodyguard, darling. And this is notnegotiable. I promised your mother I would protect you, and if I cannot roam the streets withyou, then you shall have Raoul.” She paused, well aware of how convenient it would be to have her own driver. ”Do you trustme?” ”I want to. I do. It's... I just wish you were less impulsive, and less caring.” He hesitated andadded, very firmly, ”I do trust you. I would trust you with my life.” And he met her gaze. There was something in his eyes so direct and so profound that she was thrilled, for in away, he was trusting her with his life by marrying her and forsaking all others. She went tohim and wrapped her arms around him. ”I trust you, too, Calder, with far more than my life.”She smiled warmly at him but did not explain that she was handing him her heart andtrusting him not ever to break it. He raised an eyebrow in question. She merely said, ”You are going to be a wonderful husband.” ”And you are deluded if you think that,” he said, but he smiled. ”A little jealousy can be endearing.” He gave her a disbelieving look as they both knew his jealousy was not minimal when it wasaroused. ”It's nonsensical to wait an entire year to wed. We are both more than ready. I willspeak with Andrew this weekend.” She gaped. Then, delighted, she cried, ”Yes! Moving up the wedding would be wonderful!When, Calder? When would you really like to have the nuptials?” He pulled her closer. ”Your enthusiasm is so adorable,” he murmured, kissing the tip of hernose. She s.h.i.+vered with warmth and pleasure. ”Tell Papa we want a June wedding.” He laughed. ”June sounds fine, Francesca.” Then she worried. ”But he is so determined to test your resolve and character for an entireyear. Have you ever lost a negotiation?” she asked. ”Not in years,” he a.s.sured her.

Chapter 12.

Thursday, April 24, 1902 7:00p.m.

”Darling,” she murmured, her palm on his chest, her thigh crossed over his. ”That was so wonderful.” Bartolla Benevente kissed his shoulder.

He was drifting in the pleasant aftermath of their wild love-making, not quite awake and not quite asleep. Evan didn't really hear her and he really didn't want to. The woman in his arms was exquisite, soft and silken and warm, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s full, surprising him, her legs somehow too long. He succ.u.mbed and drifted deeper and when he realized that her hair was the most amazing shade of strawberry and terribly curly, his heart lurched with excitement. Maggie.

He wasn't quite sure why she was in his bed but he wasn't about to question it, oh no. He ran his hand over her smooth silken skin again and again, turning to take her more fully in his arms. He was completely aroused and when Maggie kissed him on the flat, hard plane of his chest, he finally made a protest.

He moved over her, claiming her mouth, tasting her for what had to be the first time, tasting, inhaling her... She was so lovely, so sweet, so pure...like the suns.h.i.+ne, or an angel....

”Again?” she whispered with some surprise.

He could not speak and his answer was to slide deeply into her, shaking with excitement.

And as he moved, as the desire instantly crested, he was jolted awake. She was moaning in pleasure, but so was he; he smiled, murmuring her name, opening his eyes, his hand in her wild, unruly hair.

He stiffened in absolute surprise as Bartolla climaxed before his very eyes and for a terrible moment, he could only stare, utterly dismayed.

Jesus.

He had been dreaming that he was making love to Maggie Kennedy.

Stunned-and aware of an impossible disappointment-he started to pull away from his lover. She clasped his arms. ”Darling, what are you doing? What's wrong?”

He smiled at her, and it felt ghastly. ”Sorry,” he murmured, closing his eyes and finis.h.i.+ng what he had mistakenly begun. And when he began to climax, the Irishwoman appeared in his mind, smiling at him, and no matter how hard he thrust or how hard he tried, she would not leave him alone.

He flung himself onto his back, panting wildly while Bartolla laughed, sitting up. ”You are such a man, darling,” she whispered.

He threw one arm over his eyes, beyond shaken. He did not want to think about some pretty seamstress while he was making love to his mistress!

”Evan? Are you all right?”

He got up from the bed in one fluid movement, indifferent to his nudity. He gave her a brief smile and crossed the bedroom of his hotel suite. In the salon he poured himself a drink. His hand trembled.

And then he was angry. This was utter nonsense! Imagining another woman in his bed meant nothing at all-he had done so a hundred times, for G.o.d's sake. And Maggie Kennedy was not his type of lady, oh no. She was too sweet, even meek, for G.o.d's sake, and too d.a.m.n good anyway for a rake like him.

”May I join you?” Bartolla asked.

He turned, quickly hiding his frown. Bartolla smiled in appreciation at his lean, hard body.

She had slipped into her peignoir. A few weeks ago, shortly after their affair had commenced, she had begun leaving her possessions in his suite. He hadn't minded then but now, suddenly, it irritated him.

He took a bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and opened it. Champagne was her choice of drink.

She accepted the flute when he handed it to her. ”Shall I get you a robe? Not that I mind, but if a maid walked in, she might never recover from such a view.”

”Thank you,” he said, absolutely indifferent to her suggestion. When she had left the salon he walked over to the window and gazed down at Fifth Avenue, where traffic remained heavy.

The city's upper crust was out on the town, on their way to this fete or that, to a supper party,

a ball, a charity or the theater. The urge to walk down the block to a private club he knew suddenly overcame him. He tensed.

It wasn't the first time. Every evening the urge came, and every evening he began to sweat, thinking about entering a game, any game, poker, c.r.a.ps, he didn't care what it was. G.o.d, there was simply nothing that came close to the rush of excitement of being at the tables, the stakes so high now, being life or death.

He tossed down his scotch.

Maggie's image came to mind, sweet and smiling. Then she looked him right in the eye and shook her head no.

Bartolla returned, smiling, handing him his robe, navy blue velvet with his initials embroidered in black and gold on the chest pocket. He slipped it on, belting it. ”What are our plans for this evening?” he asked. He wasn't going to walk down the block. If he was very lucky, one day the urge would lessen, and if there was a G.o.d, it would even disappear.

”We have theater tickets, but I'm afraid the curtain goes up in an hour. I doubt I can be ready in time.”

He finally faced the fact, as he stared out of the window, that he would rather be alone that evening than be with his mistress. But he didn't trust himself to be alone. Not one single bit.

”Darling.” She took his empty gla.s.s and refilled it, handing it back to him. ”I must speak with you about something.”

Her tone was oddly serious. He glanced at her and saw that she wasn't smiling and some alarm began. Was she going to leave him? He truly liked her and definitely appreciated her skill in bed. There had been a time when Evan had thought himself in love with the countess.

Now he realized he was not in love with her at all.

”It's all right,” he heard himself say, and he realized he wouldn't be dismayed at all if their affair ended. In fact, maybe it was time for it to end.

Maggie smiled at him.

He was so surprised, that he felt himself gape. Why was she haunting him now? Why?

”Are you unwell?” Bartolla asked, guiding him to a chair.