Quivering beneath his roving kisses, she was only vaguely aware when his hand roamed downward to caress her flat stomach and slender hips, then gently press her knees apart. But shortly, his mouth moved lower, to the cluster of curls between her thighs. When his tongue claimed her there, the resulting jolt awakened Brie from the spell he had cast over her and she stiffened in shock.
Dominic paid no attention to her sudden rigidness at first. Most women had never been pleasured that way, he knew, and it was natural for Brie to be surprised. When she began to pull frantically at his hair, though, Dominic realized that he had moved too quickly. For a moment he tried to soothe her by gentling his kisses. Since that had no effect, he reached up to pull her clutching hands from his hair.
Brie panicked when she felt him grasp her wrists. "No!" she whimpered, flailing at his shoulders with her fists. "Please, no!" When Dominic released her, she scrambled to her feet and fled across the room, sobbing.
Dominic watched her for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. Brie was shuddering and clutching her robe defensively about her as she tried to catch her breath. Someone had frightened her, he decided. And quite badly, from the looks of it. Unaccountably, the thought filled Dominic with anger, making him conscious of an oddly chivalrous urge to protect her.
For a moment he debated trying to comfort her, but then he decided against it. He was throbbing with desire, and in his present state he was more likely to attack her than soothe her fears. Besides, he would have other opportunities to overcome her reluctance while they were still snowbound.
Dominic gave a sigh as he thought of the cold bed that awaited him, but he rose to his feet. When he saw Brie cringe, he hesitated. "I mean you no harm, chérie," he said softly. "But to ease your mind, I will promise not to enter your room again without an invitation. You have my word on it."
Oddly enough, Brie believed him. She nodded mutely, unable to speak for the knot of apprehension in her throat. She heard Dominic's footsteps as he crossed to the door.
And then she was left alone with her fears.
Chapter Three
Brie stood at her own breakfast room window, staring disconsolately at the bright winter landscape. She had returned home the previous day—although escaped was probably a more accurate word. She had been unable to face Stanton after that late-night encounter with him in her room. As soon as dawn had broken, she had taken a horse from the Lodge stables and ridden home to Greenwood. But at least she hadn't had to feel guilty about abandoning her responsibilities. Mattie's condition had improved greatly and Homer had recovered sufficiently enough to care for her.
The weather had improved as well. Snow still covered the ground, but much of it had melted under yesterday's sun and this morning's cloudless sky promised another mild day. The view from the window was lovely, although Brie wasn't in the mood to appreciate it. The landscape, normally a sweeping vista of green hills and meadows, was a blanket of white dotted with coverts and patterned with hedges and stone walls.
There really was no reason for her to feel so depressed, Brie reflected as she stared at the scenic tableau. Indeed, she had very good reason to be cheerful. A letter from the Duke of Mobley had been waiting for her when she returned home. His grace had at last agreed to send a prize four-year-old and a promising yearling to Greenwood in the spring. His capitulation signified the achievement of one of Brie's greatest ambitions. With her loyal staff and a great deal of hard work, she had been able to maintain the excellent reputation of the training stables started by her father, but the patronage of the duke would seal the future of Greenwood.
She should h
ave been delighted. Instead, she was a jumble of conflicting emotions.
Her eyes clouded as she thought of her last encounter with Stanton. True, she had escaped his attentions without coming to any real harm. But she had nearly allowed him to seduce her. If she hadn't panicked, she would have lost her virtue to exactly the kind of man she had done her best to avoid in recent years.
Hot shame flooded through her as she remembered the feel of Stanton's lips on her breasts. What in heaven's name had come over her? How could she have allowed him to kiss her like that, to run his hands so intimately over her body? She should have known better.
That scene before the fireplace had been familiar. On the first night of her long ago elopement, she had almost given herself to her fiancé in front of a hearth. She had pulled back at the last moment, wanting to wait until the marriage vows had been exchanged, but then her betrothed had savagely attacked her, saying that he didn't intend to risk waiting any longer to secure her inheritance. He had nearly raped her before she had managed to hit him over the head with a fire iron and render him unconscious. Fortunately for Brie, her family had been able to hush up the scandal.
But this time she had no excuse for her behavior. Stanton was obviously a master at seduction, but she never should have fallen for his practiced charm. How easily he had stirred her desire! Brie groaned, recalling just how wantonly she had responded to him.
Knowing she had to find something else to occupy her thoughts, she seated herself at the breakfast table. There was no one to serve her, for she preferred breakfasting in solitude without an army of servants hovering over her shoulder. Yet it was evident that her household staff had been hard at work. A basket of warm flaky rolls, crocks of butter and jam, and a pot of steaming hot coffee had been left on the table. There was also a good fire burning in the grate, and next to her plate, neatly arranged, was a stack of papers, a small notebook, and a pen and standish.
Sipping her coffee, Brie held up a report from her head trainer, John Sims, and tried to read. She found herself totally unable to concentrate. After several minutes of struggling, she gathered all the papers in her hand and with an uncustomary disrespect for her work, tossed the whole lot the length of the table. "Devil take it!" she muttered in frustration.
"Gabrielle!"
Brie looked up in surprise to see Katherine standing in the doorway. As usual, the elderly woman was severely dressed in a gown of drab gray merino, while her iron-gray hair was covered with a white cap. Her carriage was lacking its usual stiff elegance, however, for she was leaning heavily on a wooden cane. It was obviously a morning for disrupted routines, Brie reflected wryly; Katherine rarely rose before nine, for the pain in her joints was generally too severe.
Katherine composed her lips in a tight line as she eyed the disordered papers on the table. "It is highly improper for a lady to swear," she admonished. "Particularly at this hour of the morning."
Wisely Brie avoided a direct reply. She poured another cup of coffee as Katherine made her way slowly to the table with the aid of her cane.
At one time Katherine Hewitt had been her governess, but for the past several years she had been acting as Brie's companion. There was genuine affection on both sides, but their relationship could more accurately be described as fond tolerance. Having little in common but a mutual need of each other, they had depended on one another since the death of Brie's parents, for Katherine had no home of her own and needed the income the position earned, while Brie's single state demanded the presence of an older lady to lend it respectability.
Brie was in no mood to listen to a lecture on propriety this morning, though. "Couldn't you sleep?" she asked when Katherine was seated. "I thought your new medicine was more effective in relieving the pain."
Katherine grimaced as she tasted the strong coffee. "I couldn't bring myself to suffer the usual dose last night. I am paying for it now, though. I feel as if I slept on a bed of nails. The fault of the cold weather, I expect. But that wasn't what woke me. I had the strangest dream, not a bit of which I could remember. It left me with the oddest feeling that something unpleasant was about to happen."
"Well, it is," Brie said matter-of-factly. "My cousin is coming."
Katherine slowly nodded. "It concerns me that Caroline and Lord Denviile have not yet arrived."
"I doubt if anything more terrible than the storm has occurred to delay them. The snow has made it impossible to travel. More than likely they put up at an inn to wait out the weather. I wouldn't worry, Julian will take good care of Caroline. She probably thinks she's having a great adventure, even if she didn't want to come here in the first place."