Her eyes widened in amazement. "Do you mean to keep me a prisoner then?"
Dominic was silent for a long moment. "Only until I have seen your grandfather," he responded at length. "Then you may do as you wish."
"You can't bring yourself to trust me, is that it? What do you think I'll do? Run to him and warn him of your arrival?"
Dominic didn't answer. When he reached for a can and poured warm water over his head and torso, Brie spun around and stalked over to the trunk where she rummaged angrily through the contents, searching for a nightgown. Unable to find one, she pulled on a wrapper of green silk and tied the sash with a jerk.
"Why did you follow me, Brie?" she heard him ask softly.
Startled by the question, she turned to look at him. Was he finally giving her a chance to explain? "I told you why," Brie said stubbornly. "I don't believe my mother caused your father's death. How could she when she spent her life helping others? She even died because of her selflessness; she caught a fever while she was nursing a tenant's child. My mother was the most loving person I've ever known. She was gentle and kind, and she never hurt anyone or anything in her life. I don't expect you to understand that," Brie said bitterly, tears sparkling in her eyes, "but I want her name vindicated."
Dominic seemed unmoved by her impassioned declaration. "Then you should have no objection to continuing the journey with me," he observed calmly as he reached for his towel.
"I doubt my preferences would matter to you. You delight in riding rough-shod over people."
"Brie, I . . ." He broke off, scowling as if she had hit a sensitive nerve. When he looked away, she could see a muscle tighten in his jaw.
Brie watched him for a moment, wondering what he had been about to say to her. When he remained silent, she turned her back and began to towel her hair dry. She tensed when she heard Dominic step out of the tub, but he only finished drying himself off and picked up his clothes, leaving the room without a word. Brie breathed a sigh of relief. She had no
t expected to be let off so easily.
Pulling the armchair before the hearth, she sat down to comb the tangles from her hair. The warmth from the fire helped to dry her long tresses, but they were still curling damply about her shoulders when a knock sounded at her door.
It turned out to be the proprietress again, announcing that supper had been laid out in monsieur's chamber. Incensed by Dominic's blatant disregard for her wishes. Brie marched across the room and flung open the door that connected her room with his. "Perhaps you weren't aware," she said mutinously, "but I requested a tray in my room."
Dominic gave Brie's green-clad figure an appreciative perusal, taking in her flushed cheeks and riotous tresses, but he wisely withheld his comments about her provocative appearance. "So you did," he replied evenly, "but I thought this would be more pleasant."
"Pleasant?" Brie mocked. Her eyes swept the room, finding it a mirror image of her own. The only difference was that instead of a tub, a supper table had been set before the fire. The table was heavily laden with dishes, and the appetizing aroma that filled the room made Brie realize how hungry she was. She hesitated, watching Dominic cautiously as he poured two glasses of wine.
To her chagrin, she found herself distracted by Dominic himself. The full-length dressing gown he wore was black embroidered with silver dragons, and the colors greatly enhanced his dark good looks, making his harsh, aristocratic features seem even more striking. He exuded male attraction, Brie thought with mingled dread and anticipation. It wasn't hard to tell that he was naked beneath the robe, for where it parted at the throat, his muscular chest was bare, and where it belted at the waist, the rich silk molded against his narrow hips and the rippling sinews of his thighs. Brie swallowed hard, wondering if this were part of some plan to lure her into his bed.
"You planned this, didn't you? That's why there was no nightgown with the other clothes you provided."
The corner of his mouth curved upward. "Honestly, I forgot about a nightgown. It isn't high on my list of requirements for the women who share my bed."
"I won't sleep with you!"
"I think you will, Brie."
It was said lightly, and Brie expected to see amusement in Dominic's eyes when he looked up from pouring the wine. But there was no laughter or mockery in his gaze, not even any lust. His expression was completely serious. When he held out a glass, she accepted it, but she went to stand before the hearth, where she wouldn't have to meet his penetrating gaze.
The crackling fire seemed to grow louder as the silence stretched between them. Finally Dominic broke it. "Don't you think it time we put an end to this verbal fencing, Brie? We have been at each other's throats since London, and I for one am heartily sick of it."
Feeling a tight ache in her throat, Brie looked down at her glass. Didn't he know that she hated fighting with him? Didn't he know her heart bled a little with each hurtful exchange that occurred between them? "So am I," she whispered.
Dominic sighed. "I suppose I should start by explaining what happened at the Copely's ball. I didn't stage that scene in the drawing room, Brie."
She turned to stare at him, her eyes widening. "But those men . . . they knew you would be there. If you didn't ask them to meet you, then who did?"
"Denise Grayson, I regret to say. She sent them to find me, intending for them to interrupt our discussion exactly as they did. But I was just as surprised as you were when they barged in.
"You might have told me."
Dominic's mouth twisted wryly. "I tried to at the time, but you gave me little chance to explain. Afterward, I was too angry to stay in the same room with you, much less soothe your outraged virtue." He paused, taking a swallow of wine, then raised his intent gaze to her again. "I don't find it easy to apologize, Brie, but I would like to say I'm sorry for what happened. I had no intention of subjecting you to such ridicule."
Brie was too amazed to reply. Dominic smiled briefly at her silence, then continued. "As for our present situation, perhaps a truce is in order. You have a purpose for coming to France, so do I. I can give you information and protection, whereas you can offer me . . . comfort of a physical nature. A bargain of sorts, struck with reluctance on both sides, but nevertheless one from which we can each profit. On my part, I will refrain from making accusations and questioning your motives. That alone should reduce and friction between us. On your part . . .
Dominic paused, his eyes searching her face. Then slowly, he moved toward her, till he was near enough for her to feel the heat of his body. Taking her wine glass, he set it on the table along with his own. "I want a woman in my bed, Brie," he said softly. "Not a shrew or a martyr, but a woman who is passionate and willing."