His strategy was succeeding, at least in part. She had lost her intense wariness of him. And yet she found it harder to maintain an air of composure when he was near. He could make her quiver with a glance, render her breathless with a simple touch.
Perhaps it was her dread of what was to come that so unnerved her. Damien had been exceedingly patient with her reticence, not demanding so much as a kiss from her. Vanessa felt certain, however, that the situation couldn’t remain that way. Before long he would require her to become his mistress in truth.
One night during the beginning of her third week at Rosewood, the conversation turned even more personal- deeply, disquietingly so. Again they were sitting before the fire in the warm glow of candlelight. At first Vanessa remained undisturbed when she felt his heavy-lidded gaze lingering upon her. She’d grown accustomed to his lazy, searching perusals.
Yet she was not prepared for the question that broke the pleasurable silence between them.
“How long has it been for you?” he asked softly.
She could have pretended to misunderstand. Could have refused to answer such an intimate, intrusive query. But candidness had been a hallmark of their relationship from the first, and she had come to value it, despite how unsettling such honesty often could prove.
“Two years.”
“So long?”
She had to look away from the intensity in his observant eyes. “You have misjudged me,” she replied, a tremor in her voice. “I told you the truth. I am not experienced in carnal matters. I haven’t had countless lovers. Only my husband.”
“And you didn’t enjoy that,” he said, low and hushed.
“It… was not pleasant.” She flushed, ashamed that Damien had managed to draw such an admission from her.
“Let me guess,” he continued, keeping his voice quietly modulated. “He never took the time to arouse you. Instead he sought his own pleasure without considering yours. You lay beneath him, tense and unresponsive, expecting pain and dutifully receiving it.”
The stark picture he painted struck too close to the truth. Vanessa bowed her head, reliving the dark memories. “It was my duty, but he… hurt me.”
“You may trust me never to hurt you, Vanessa.”
Slowly she raised her gaze to his, searching his face. Trust was not a word she would use with Damien Sinclair. But, startlingly, she did trust him. Why else would she have so readily revealed her secrets to him? She should have deplored his insistent probing and her own intimate confessions; but, in a bewildering way, she was almost relieved to have her private shame exposed.
His eyes captured hers and held them. “Carnal relations needn’t be unpleasant for a woman. Indeed, they should not be.”
“He thought me cold… unfeeling. Because I couldn’t bear his touch.”
A swift spark of anger flickered in the storm-silver eyes. “He was a damned fool.”
She stared at Damien, wanting to believe the firm conviction in his pronouncement.
He kept his voice soft and even when he continued. “Vanessa, your dislike of physical intimacy stems from a cruel experience. While you might be lacking in education and experience, I doubt you are cold or unfeeling. I would wager my entire fortune that inside you is a warm, passionate woman yearning to break free.”
Against her volition, her throat constricted with emotion. For so long she had lived with the shame and guilt of her inadequacies. If she had been a better wife to Roger, perhaps he would not have sought other women’s beds. He might even have moderated his wild and reckless lifestyle and never met an ignominious end with a bullet through his heart on the dueling field.
The possibility was like balm to a raw wound, and Vanessa was absurdly grateful to Damien for suggesting a reason that she had never responded physically to her husband.
“You… think me passionate?”
He was watching her, his eyes half-closed yet so sensual, so compelling, he made her heart ache. “I’m sure of it. I could show you, if you would put your pleasure in my hands.”
Her lips parted, but no sound emerged.
With unhurried deliberation then, he set down his glass and rose from his chair. “Shall I show you what it is like to feel wanted, desired?”
Moving slowly, Damien reached down and drew her to her feet. Immobile, she stared up at him, seeing the flames warming the depths of his eyes. His closeness stirred a pleasurable spark that flickered along the ends of her nerves.
“I do desire you, angel. More than you could possibly imagine.”
“Damien…”
“Hush. Don’t fear me. I will allow you to take the lead.” He took her hand and pressed her palm to his cheek. “Just touch me.”