Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

“Stop it, Brent,” she said very calmly, very precisely.

She was stiff now, unyielding. He’d let her desire fade. Her eyes were clear, her expression unreadable.

“Let me go,” she said.

He dropped his hands. “Are you frigid, Mrs. Butler? Is your passion all an act? Or is your coldness an act? Do you like to tease men, make them crazy with lust before you let them take you?”

She raised her hand, but he grabbed her wrist in an iron grasp. “Be glad I stopped you, Byrony. I’m very close to taking you right here. The way I’m feeling right now, I seriously doubt you would enjoy it.”

Suddenly he jerked her hand downward and pressed her fingers against his sex. “Does that please you, Byrony, to feel how much I want you? Does it make you feel powerful?”

She was silent with shock. She felt him straining against her hand. A man. It felt hard, alive, dangerous, and terrifying. And so hot. She felt the heat of him through his clothes. Her fingers clutched inward, closing around him, and his moan shocked her.

He was panting, his whole body shaking with need. When she jerked her hand away, he managed to focus on her pale face, on her wide, uncomprehending eyes.

Another act, damn her. “Your hand is nice, Mrs. Butler, as I’m certain you’ve been told before. I would prefer your mouth, of course. Are you skilled with your mouth and that pink tongue of yours?”

“I don’t know,” she said. She had a sudden vivid image of her on her knees in front of him, taking that part of him into her mouth. How could she possibly do that? He’d felt so hard, so large, against her hand.

“It’s a quite acceptable way, as you know, to pleasure a man and avoid pregnancy. Perhaps you are not so skilled. I would be delighted to instruct you. Tonight, Byrony. I want you to come to me tonight. With all the lies you’ve prepared for your husband, it shouldn’t be so difficult.”

His words flowed over her. Why, she wondered, did she continually think about him, want to see him, be with him, when he did nothing but insult her? All he wanted from her was her body. He wanted nothing else. For an unwanted instant her body reminded her of the startling sensations he’d made her feel. Why not go to him before she left?

“I can’t,” she said, not in response to his words, but in answer to herself.

“I’m not a whore, Mr. Hammond.”

He grinned at her. “No, of course you’re not. Whores, my dear girl, are really quite honest.”

“I’m leaving San Francisco.”

Brent froze, undefined thoughts, feelings, and pain racing through him at her stark words.

“I suppose I wanted to see you one last time before I left. Why, I don’t know. Perhaps I just wanted to thank you again for helping me that night.” She shrugged. “Well, now it doesn’t matter.”

“Why did you come to me that night? Why?”

She said quite honestly, “Because for some inexplicable reason a part of me trusts you completely. I’m really quite a fool, I suppose. But you did help me, and I thank you for it. Now, good-bye, Mr. Hammond.”

“Why?” he yelled after her. “Why did you want to see me again? Not just to thank me, I know.” She paused a moment, but didn’t turn back.

He stood on the beach, the soothing sounds of the lapping waves in his ears, watching her climb onto her mare’s back. She never looked back.

“Where is she?”

“Eileen said she was eating dinner in her room. We needn’t worry about her. What are we going to do, Ira?”

“Have we a choice? She is willing to leave. I will divorce her quietly. Then we will be free, Irene. And our child.”

“Will we?”

He was arrested by the odd note of bitterness in her voice. “Of course. I believe Byrony.”

“Then you are a fool, Ira. Does she plan to return to her father’s house in San Diego?”

“She didn’t say, but I’m certain she won’t. She hates him, and Madison DeWitt, well, he’s an animal.”

“Just what do you think will happen when she runs through the money you’ll give her? Become a shopgirl? Make bonnets, for God’s sake?”