Part 8 (1/2)
He shook his head. ”On my honor, no. I swear you'll leave as pure as you are now.”
”What's your reward?” she asked with a hint of grimness.
”My reward is your pleasure.” He shrugged. ”I won't lie and say I don't want more. But I'm not an impulsive boy. I can control myself. You're safe, Marianne.”
”Am I?” She stared at him as if weighing his soul.
”You have my word. I've watched you so closely. You devote your life to making other people happy. Tonight I offer you a gift-an hour of pure self-indulgence.”
She swallowed, her white throat working. ”And you promise that n.o.body will know?”
”n.o.body.”
”It's...tempting.”
Defying his impulse to seize her, he stepped away to allow her s.p.a.ce to decide. Although he knew that in letting her go, he risked losing her. ”An interval of selfish enjoyment. I can guess n.o.body has ever offered you that.”
”No.”
The word was a mere filament of sound. The house settled around them in slumbering silence. It was like they were the sole two people awake on earth.
He'd hesitated to mention anything beyond this encounter because reminding her of his hopes was the surest way to drive her off. Now he dared. ”Accept this, even if you'll accept nothing else from me.”
She stood regarding him for so long that he became convinced she meant to deny him. And herself.
Then she straightened and gave a stiff nod, as if accepting a challenge to a duel.
He supposed in her own way, she was.
”Very well,” she whispered. ”Show me pleasure.”
Chapter Nine.
Marianne braced for smugness. But she couldn't mistake the joy transfiguring Elias's face. The sheer brilliance of his male beauty enthralled her. And soothed the tigers of uncertainty clawing at her stomach.
”Oh, my darling,” he murmured, and encircled her in his arms. ”I swear you'll never be sorry.”
After all those kisses, she should be familiar with his touch. Still her unruly heart leaped. His embrace felt like coming home after a long and dangerous journey. Which was lunatic when giving herself over to his caresses was the riskiest step she'd ever taken.
When he'd described her as a self-sacrificing cipher, something in her soul had rebelled. He'd asked her about secrets. Well, tonight would become her secret. Every woman should have something to dream on when she was old.
Tomorrow commonplace reality would set in. She'd play the dutiful daughter and obey her father and marry Desborough. She'd go to Desborough's bed a virgin and set her face toward finding purpose as his wife and the mother of his children.
But first, first she'd accept Elias's gift. Fate gave her this chance. She'd never before been free. A greater gift than pleasure was the gift of freedom.
She closed her eyes against a mist of tears and hid her face in Elias's chest. His strength gave her a temporary haven from the world's endless demands.
Gradually her heart's race calmed. Her blood started to pump sluggish and heavy.
When she'd consented, she'd expected Elias to jump on her. He knew as well as she did that they had one night and the hour was already late. But he held her as if they had all the time in the world. She'd never felt so cherished.
Every night, alone in her chaste bed, when she didn't need to feign control to herself or anyone else, she'd pretended she was with him. The actuality of Elias Thorne was so much more arousing than her most feverish imaginings.
Eventually she became conscious of things outside the sweet comfort. The crackle of the fire. The edge of cold beneath the flames' heat. The more alluring heat of Elias's body. The slap of raindrops against the cas.e.m.e.nt windows. The soft music of his breathing.
All the busy, ceaseless, exhausting requirements of pleasing her father, pleasing the world, faded. Instead, she found peace. Peace that descended like a soft fall of dark feathers.
Gradually her tension flowed away. When his hands began to glide over her body, she stood too spellbound to be afraid. She felt connected to this man in a way she'd never felt connected to anyone. He'd called pleasure his gift to her. She counted the quiet as another gift.
Gently, he stroked her back and arms and shoulders. She leaned into his body. n.o.body had touched her like this. Beyond politeness, n.o.body ever touched her at all.
Elias was right. That seemed a miserable waste.
Was this slow seduction a ploy to force her consent? She couldn't believe that. His music had created a covenant of honesty. At least for this forbidden interval. She might be making the biggest mistake of her life, but he couldn't sacrifice this opportunity to discover the touch of the one man she'd ever wanted.
When his hands spanned her waist and slid down to shape her hips, she squirmed. He pressed her against a hard male need that set her instincts jangling.
”Shh,” he whispered without releasing her.
Immediately she quieted, his voice smoothing her p.r.i.c.kling timidity. No danger could compare to the promise of his desire, the cessation of bitter loneliness.
Once she left this room, more loneliness waited. Viewed from the circle of Elias's arms, that prospect was unendurable.
She gasped when he swept her up in his arms. ”Elias.”
He smiled at her, teeth white in his tanned face. ”I won't drop you.”
”Actually,” she admitted shyly, ”I think if you let me go, I might float.”
”I'll never let you go.”
Marianne was so lost that not even that sounded threatening. She curved to fit him and hooked her hand around his neck. His hair was a fraction too long and it tickled her fingers, soft and warm from his skin.
He sat in a large leather chair before the fire and arranged her on his lap so that her purple skirts frothed over the arm toward the floor.
”What should I do?” she asked, nerves stirring, although if she had an ounce of sense, she'd be nervous long before this. She slid away, placing her palm flat on his chest to keep her balance.
He smiled with the kindness she remembered so poignantly from that day they'd walked together through the snow. That day she'd fallen in love with him.
”My lovely Marianne, you don't need to do anything.”
”That seems a little unfair.”