Surrender to Love

“Poor fool indeed!” Nicholas remembered commenting drily before she had lifted an imperious hand.

“I had forgotten about the man until his widow turned up out of the blue. And would have ignored her had I not known her background and what she was—and had I not realized belatedly that John Travers had indeed meant what he said when he spoke of revenge.”

“And what is her background?”

“You heard all the hints she dropped when she was presented to me? ‘My grandmother, they tell me, is a witch,’ she said.” The Dowager gave a harsh laugh. “True enough, my dear Nicholas, I’ve been called that and worse by my enemies. And true enough too that I’m her grandmother on the wrong side of the blanket. She’s one of Newbury’s by-blows, you see. And I’ve been paying her foster-parents for her upkeep all these years. Martin and Victorine Howar

d. They took her off to Ceylon as their own brat, and I bought Martin Howard his coffee estate on condition she was never to be told that she was the bastard daughter of the Marquess of Newbury and one of his whores. That her real mother is, in fact, the woman supposed to be her aunt—a woman that every man in London knows well as Madame Olivier.”

There were more disclosures, of course. Belle-Mere was thorough as well as efficient, and had had Lady Travers followed and her many indiscretions noted. Meetings with Lord Deering, who was openly infatuated with her. Meetings with Madame Olivier, her “aunt.” A discreet chamber kept for her use over her favorite millinery boutique in Burlington Arcade.

“Knowing you, with that stony face of yours, you’ll want to make sure of everything for yourself, won’t you? And you’ll learn even more than I know now, I’ll be bound. But for God’s sake realize at least that you’d be making a laughingstock as well as a fool out of yourself if you persist with this madness. She wants to make a big, ugly scandal of course. Why do you think she encourages Newbury to send her flowers every day? Her father, mind you, and she must know it. So this afternoon it was you, and tonight it will be poor Charles in one of those disgustingly sordid little cubbyholes they rent out in Cremorne Gardens. My dear Nicholas! Even if you are dead set against a match with Helen, at least consider the consequences of this other! The creature is out to use you— or Charles—or anyone else she can sink her claws into, for that matter. Men can be such fools over a pretty face and a pretty figure, and you can get both, as well as some lusty enjoyment, from any whore at Madame Olivier’s!”

Although he was careful not to let Belle-Mere see it, Nicholas had surprised himself by the violence of the wrath he felt like an explosion in his brain when he had realized how devious and how conniving she really was— the little bitch! And cool as a cucumber, she had denied nothing he had accused her of yet. She was obviously a born harlot, and deserved to be treated like one. And as for her virginity—if she had not used some typical whore’s stratagem to fool him, that was—he should remember that all whores were virgin to begin with, and that if he hadn’t been the first some other man would have been. In fact, it was more than possible that she had “chosen” him that night because she had learned he was her father’s heir.

He should have kept his mind detached earlier, while toying with her as he pleased, before taking her in the fashion he had planned to take her—instead of allowing her desperate-sounding sobs to deter him, Nicholas thought grimly now. No doubt, among her other talents she also possessed the facility to shed copious tears whenever it suited her. And then, to top it all, she had just had the cool effrontery to ask him if he had actually murdered his wife, conjuring up memories and images in his mind that he had been trying to forget. Damn her! His fingers itched to close around the slim column of her neck, but instead Nicholas said brusquely, “Here! And this time try to hold the smoke in for as long as possible—it’s one way at least of keeping you silent!” Perhaps she had sensed the consequences that awaited her if she provoked him further, because Alexa obeyed him silently after one sideways glance at his face. And it was then, not being able to resist the impulse any longer, that he shot at her harshly, “Tell me, since we seem to be exchanging confidences at the moment, how did you fall into the habit of visiting bordellos for your amusement? Did your husband know you did it?”

For some illogical reason it infuriated him even more when, instead of flinching away from the blunt question, she was brazen enough to turn her head and look him squarely in the eyes while she answered him coolly.

“It was my husband’s idea that I needed to learn as much as possible about human nature. He knew that he only had a few months to live when he married me, you see, and he wanted me to be prepared. Most women are not, poor things! When I first met you, for instance, how you must have laughed to yourself at my naiveté. I knew nothing, and understood nothing, even about my own body or the sensations that could too easily be aroused by someone unscrupulous—someone used to seducing young girls! But I have learned so much since then, Lord Embry, and from the best teachers in the world, I think.” Alexa shrugged almost challengingly before she added thoughtfully: “Of course, I have been finding out that it is one thing to be told things and even to watch, and quite different when it is actually happening to you. I don’t think I would like to be dependent on a man’s whims or his money to support me. I prefer, in fact, to make my own choices.”

‘ “Do you? And that night in Rome, when you played priestess of Venus... I must admit it makes me curious as to why you happened to visit me. Or did you intend to try out your talents on as many men as possible? Christ!” Nicholas gave a harsh laugh. “I think I begin to understand now. The virgin-whore—knowledgeable, tantalizing, promising everything and giving nothing in the end. That was your intention when you suddenly appeared like an apparition out of a dream, wasn’t it? As I remember it now you did prove that you had learned a great deal since the last time we had been together. And I must admit that I did not expect that you might still be clinging to your pure and virginal state. Did your husband enjoy watching you with other men? Did he instruct you as to how you might lead them up to a certain point before you made some excuse to leave—I’m sure you promised to come back as soon as possible!—and laugh to see how you had managed to fool them?” “If you do not enjoy hearing the truth you should not ask for it. And since you did not know my husband you have no right to say what you did! He...”

Her indignant protest was cut off when Alexa felt his fingers bite into her bare shoulders, twisting her body around so that she could not help falling against him.

“I am glad I did not know your husband, who used you for his own purposes. But I am still curious as to why, by some strange coincidence, you happened to turn up that evening.”

Resentfully, Alexa looked up at him with her eyes slitted. Whatever the drug was that he had forced her to take, it had made her free of fear. Her mind felt very clear and free, as if it floated separately from her body. And her words were clear and carefully pronounced. “You want to know? I watched you make love with Maddalena in the room of mirrors one night, and I thought then that I wanted you. After all, it was you who first made me aware of sensuality and certain feelings that could be aroused in my body, in spite of the protests of my mind. Yes, you! If I had not been with you that night on the beach, then Sir John might not have had to save my reputation by telling everyone we had just become engaged. And...but what does it matter now? I lost my virginity and my husband on the same night, Nicholas Dameron! My illusions and my innocence I had lost a long time before.” And then she said with a soft laugh that seemed to come from someone inside herself that wasn’t even her at all: “But what does all that matter? Now that we know the worst about each other and have played at question and answer, am I to find out for what other reason you brought me here or may I go home to sleep? I would not miss your Belle-Mere’s ball and the announcement of your betrothal to Helen for the world.”

Face down the crouching, sleek-muscled predator.

Never turn your eyes away or let him sense fear, or you are lost....

There was a moment, as she looked deep into the green darkness of his eyes, that Alexa thought she saw what death looked like. And then, acting purely instinctively, she yielded to the tightening hold of his fingers on her shoulders and leaned more closely against him, letting her fingers trail teasingly down his chest and even further before he pushed her roughly backward with a muttered obscenity. And she laughed as she caught him closer and felt the smooth movement of muscles under his flesh and met the violence of his knife-plunge into her with the upward arch of her hips, feeling him inside her and against her with every sensitive nerve ending.

“Puta!” he whispered harshly with his lips only inches away from hers. “I can tell you’ve had plenty of practice.” He put his hands under her to raise her against him and Alexa gasped, feeling and following the motion of his body as he turned and turned her with h

im so that she was astride his loins now, her long tangled mane of gold streaked bronze hair hanging down to brush his face and his chest before she shook it back for a moment, leaning over him again; and their duel of thrust and counter-thrust continued.

“Aren’t you glad of it? This practice that makes me a puta? Only you’re mistaken, you know. I do not need to charge a fee for whatever gives me pleasure. I can choose for myself. Does this give you pleasure, your Lordship? Do you enjoy being my stallion?”

“As long as you ride me well and pleasingly, my Lady.” Accepting her unexpected challenge, Nicholas laughed suddenly and thought, why not? She was certainly more appealing this way—willing and even slightly aggressive—than she had been as a sullen victim. After all, what had he expected or wanted from her that went beyond this? Why should it be of any account to him how many other men had been caressed by her and kissed by her and tempted by her? The sea nymph he had almost trapped and the trembling virgin he had foolishly left intact had only been illusive images he’d allowed his own mind to conjure up. The well-trained whore whose every movement was calculated and practiced was the real woman and had always been. It was he who should have known better, who had deceived himself.

It was like a jousting match, this unacknowledged contest of skills and wills between them; and the changing pattern of their bodies against rumpled sheets was reflected in the mirrors that had been carefully placed in the room for just such a purpose. “So you saw me with Maddalena? Did you enjoy what you saw, you sly little bitch?”

“You seemed to enjoy her,” Alexa returned a trifle tartly. “But to be honest, your performance with me did not match that earlier one. I was disappointed.”

“You were far too argumentative to please me as well as Maddalena did, I’m afraid, and if you expect a better performance from me tonight you should try harder to excite me instead of boring me with your damned chattering!” Without warning Alexa found herself on her back as he withdrew himself from her, only to sit astride her and trap one of her hands in his. “Let me demonstrate to you, my sweet, what might have happened if I’d let Dawes at you first. And be quiet, or...”

She had to bite down on her lip in order not to let him hear her scream out loud with outrage as he used the soft leather straps that Dawes had thoughtfully left attached to the bedposts in order to secure her wrists above her head. Then he let his hands slide down her body in a leisurely and almost possessive fashion, lingering over her breasts for a moment or two before moving downward. Instinctively, angrily, Alexa pressed her thighs together. “Whatever you think you might achieve by the use of force... Stop!” She kicked at him, trying to aim at the most vulnerable parts of his body. Tried to, until he had her ankles secured as well, to leave her open and helpless and now, at last, watchfully silent.

“I do not think, sweet slut, that I will need to use force on you. Why should I? But you have a sweet body that I would like to explore and use as I please, without restraint. And I should hate to have to go to the trouble of gagging you; so perhaps you will attempt to restrain yourself from crying out too loudly?” To add to her almost unbearable sense of frustration he left her there spread out on the bed while he proceeded to add more coals to the fire and then light up another of his “cigars,” dragging deeply on it before he came back to stand looking down at her in a strangely disturbing manner before he said politely, “You’ll join me in indulging?” And leaning down over her, held it to her lips with one hand while with the other he began to caress her with deceptive gentleness.

Even with her eyes squeezed tightly shut Alexa could almost see as well as feel the dark ocean-blue that surrounded her as she rose and sank and rose and sank like a rudderless ship controlled by the wind alone and by the way he was touching her, taking infinite time with her, just as if he had been an explorer who had discovered some new world that might be worth conquering. She felt as if she were a block of marble being sculpted into a statue, the sculptor’s chisel forming every outline of muscle and vein and curve and hollow. And like a tautly spread canvas soaking up a painter’s first light brushstrokes before he added, as he grew more confident, another and yet another layer until she was his picture, his marble statue, his conquered new continent.

There was no help for it, Alexa tried to tell herself. She was a helpless victim, subject to whatever torment he decided to inflict on her. And yet, when his hands molded her flesh, his ringers traced teasing patterns over her skin, his lips and tongue tasted her and tested her endurance she wanted more. Cruelly, calculatedly, he made her want and then need the fulfillment he had made her crave. No longer ruled by reason, but by her senses alone, Alexa had never been so utterly, totally conscious of her body until now, when he had made her so. Or of feeling so acutely, with every inch of her burning, achingly sensitive skin, so many different kinds of touches and textures. And never before had she given herself up so unreservedly to sensation and pure sensuality and to her own sexuality.

There was no world but this bedroom, no time but now, and nothing she wanted more than this exquisite agony and exquisite pleasure mixed together. She wanted to experience everything, to know everything, to feel everything. To watch him make love to her body and to explore his in the same way. There was a mirror set cunningly into the molded ceiling above the bed, Alexa discovered when she slowly opened her eyes. Why hadn’t she taken notice of it before? Pinned down in the center of the blue velvet twilight, the reflected image of her own body seemed to gleam back at her, sprawled across the white bedsheets, pale as ivory in contrast with his sun browned skin and dark head that was bent to her. She heard herself gasp and then moan out loud as she writhed against the sheets and against the straps that held her pinioned, forgetful of aching muscles and chafed skin and everything but a rising, expanding urgency that grew and kept growing until it was all she knew and all she felt.