Velvet Embrace

"No!" she cried, the fire in her eyes flaring to life again.

"Then, damn it, what do you want? A recitation of my titles and an account of my various incomes? No?" he said savagely when Brie shook her head. "No, of course not. You have no need for titles and you have an adequate fortune of your own— which, by the way, would come under my control were you to marry me. A point against, surely. Let me see . . . points in favor.

"One, it is not unusual for a man of my station and age to marry, so let us say I am in need of a wife. Two, while you are perhaps a little too free in your behavior at times, your birth is unexceptional and your breeding adequate for the position as my countess. Three—no, back to two. I could be persuaded, perhaps, to let you continue some of your pursuits, provided you were discreet. Three, your beauty is unquestionable and given a little more training, your performance in bed should measure up to even my exacting standards. Four, you are in need of a husband, whether you admit it or not, someone to guide you and keep a firm hold on your bridle. Five—shall I continue?"

Brie stared back at him, white-faced. "No, my lord, there is no need to continue. Although you left out several points against. You are arrogant, overbearing, spiteful—"

"But we have not begun to extol my virtues," he observed dryly.

"Virtues? I wasn't aware you had any!"

Dominic hesitated. He wasn't proud of his vicious attack, particularly since he had meant to apologize. Yet when he saw how his one and only marriage proposal had degenerated into a shouting match, he felt his anger dissolve in amusement. "Brie, this is getting us nowhere," he pointed out calmly. "Perhaps tomorrow you will see that marrying me will be the best solution for us both."

Brie clenched her teeth. "I thank you for your kind offer," she returned, "but I will not marry you. Now will you please let me pass? My friends are waiting for me."

Dominic made one more attempt to persuade her. Catching Brie's arm as she tried to slip by him, he gently grasped her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. "What if you carry my child?" he asked softly.

Somehow Brie managed not to flinch. She had no idea what she would do if she were pregnant, but she refused to let him know that the thought troubled her. She could not use a child as an excuse for marriage. "Unlike my grandmother," she said stiffly, "I do not have a suicidal nature. I will not kill myself, if that is what concerns you."

It was Dominic's turn to pale. His skin went ashen beneath his tan, while his grip tightened painfully on her arm. "That is not what I meant," he said acidly. "I was questioning the wisdom of bringing a bastard into the world."

Brie did flinch then, seeing the cold glitter in his eyes. "We are speaking of remote possibilities," she said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the quaver from her voice.

"Not so remote. You are young and healthy."

"Well . . . , that will be my problem, not yours."

Dominic's jaw hardened, as if he were considering using physical force to persuade her. But then he abruptly released her and stepped back.

Brie watched him uncertainly as she rubbed her arm. She had wanted to wound him as she had been wounded, but now she knew she couldn't leave without explaining her reasons for refusing him.

"Don't you understand?" she whispered. "I will not, cannot tie myself to you in a loveless marriage. You would never forgive me, nor

would I forgive myself."

For a long moment, Dominic said nothing. When he finally spoke, his tone was as devoid of emotion as his expression. "Of course, you are right. The points against would win out in the long run. I wish you a safe journey." When she made no move to leave, Dominic gestured impatiently with his hand. "Go, Brie, just . . . go."

Brie turned and fled then, knowing if she stayed a moment longer she would break down completely. She didn't see the anguish that crept into Dominic's eyes as he watched her go, nor did she see how tightly he clenched his fists to keep himself from calling her back. Yet he stood and stared after her for a long while, listening to the silent echo of her retreating footsteps and wondering why his chest felt so achingly hollow.

Chapter Nineteen

Leaning back wearily against the cushions, Brie gave herself up to the ceaseless swaying motion of the coach. They were nearing the French coast, but the journey already seemed interminable since her parting with Dominic. Even so, time and distance had begun to work their healing magic on her fragmented heart. The acute pain had dulled to a mere throbbing ache, while the misery had faded to numbness.

Brie sighed. The exertion of pretending an interest in her surroundings during the past few days had been a severe strain on her frayed nerves. Yet keeping up an endless stream of conversation had provided occupation for her mind, and her attentiveness had helped reduce the frequency of worried glances which Katherine and Julian had showered upon her.

Realizing how uncharitable her thoughts were, Brie flushed guiltily. She ought to be grateful for the consideration her friends had shown her. Julian had been determined to entertain her, and Katherine had been equally determined to ignore the recent explosive events. Both had made her comfort and well-being their prime concern. Their affection for her had seen her through one of the most trying periods of her life, she admitted, stealing a fond glance at them both.

As the coach rolled into the yard of the inn where they were to stop for lunch, Brie made a concerted effort to shrug off her despondent thoughts. When Julian gave her an engaging grin as he handed her down from the carriage, she responded lightheartedly for the first time in days, giving him a bright smile, then turning to plant an impulsive kiss on Katherine's withered cheek.

A melee of carriages, horses, and scurrying ostlers impeded their progress as they made their way across the yard, and the common room of the inn was no less crowded. Brie and Katherine waited in the hall, while Julian beckoned to the innkeeper and ordered a private parlor and a meal.

From her position, Brie had a good view of the crowded taproom. When her gaze wandered absently over the occupants, her attention was caught by a slender, fair-haired man sitting at a table not two yards away. Dressed as a gentleman, the man appeared to be English, although what might have been a ruddy complexion had deepened to a dull red beneath his leathery tan. She was surprised to see him staring so intently at Julian, but when the stranger transferred his gaze to her, Brie experienced a shock. The hatred shining out of those hooded eyes was unmistakable. She shuddered, trying unsuccessfully to break away from his malevolent gaze, and clutched involuntarily at Julian's sleeve.

Seeing Brie's pale face, Julian abruptly ended his conversation with the landlord and ushered his charges up the stairs to a small parlor. Brie went directly to the hearth, holding her chilled hands out to the cheerful blaze. But in spite of the fire and the warmth of her fur-lined cloak, she found she couldn't stop shivering.

She couldn't explain her reaction, for she had never seen the fair-haired man before, yet for some reason he terrified her. It was only after lunch had been served and she had drunk several cups of scalding hot tea that her fear began to dissipate.

The meal was pleasant enough—braised veal with chive sauce, baked cod, goose pate, an assortment of vegetables, and an excellent wine—but Brie hardly tasted it. She spoke in monosyllables, if at all, while Katherine kept up a polite stream of conversation with Julian.