A Secret Love (Cynster 5)

son." He paused, then continued, "You might have noticed I no longer suffer when I'm close to you. I can sit beside you, more or less at ease, no longer feeling caged to the point of madness, because I know I can take you in my arms and kiss you, that at some point in the not-overly-distant future, you'll lie beneath me again." He let his voice drop. "However, if you're witless enough to try to fight this-all that's between us-if you try to refuse me and smile instead at Chillingworth or any other man, then I can guarantee that what has been between us through the years will be as nothing to what will be."

She held his gaze steadily. "Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a promise."

She considered him, then opened her mouth-

He laid a finger across her lips. "I'm deeply attached to you, you know that. Now I'm no longer blinded and forbidden by preconception, I can admit it. I desire you sexually, but that's only the half of it. I want you because I can think of no other I would rather share my life with. We suit. We could be successful life-partners. We've never been friends, not really, but with the difficulty between us removed, that's another relationship within our reach."

Her eyes searched his-she was marshaling her arguments, still stubbornly resisting for all she was worth.

Releasing her lips, he traced her jaw, then let his hand fall to the sofa back. "Thea, no matter how you struggle to refute it, you know what's between us. It might have been cloaked and veiled for years, but now we've stripped away the disguise, you can see what it is as well as I." He held her gaze. "It's an ardent and undying passion, not just on my part but yours as well."

Alathea looked away. She didn't know what to do. It wasn't just her head that was spinning. His words had evoked so many emotions, so many long-buried needs and barely recognized dreams. But… drawing herself up, she stated, "You're telling me your emotions are engaged."

"Yes."

"That what's between us demands marriage as its proper state-its necessary outcome."

"Yes."

When she stared into the distance and said nothing more, he prompted, "Well?"

"I'm not sure I believe you." Facing him, she hurried to explain, "Not about what's between us so much as why you believe we should marry." She searched his face, then, mentally girding her loins, she spoke bluntly. "We do know each other well-very well. You claim that the feelings that have always plagued us were due to frustrated desire, that what's between us is that-physical desire-and I accept that that's probably so. You've said that your emotions are engaged and I accept that, too. But what I don't know is: Which is the most prominent emotion?"

A scowl formed in his eyes. "Whichever emotion it is that prompts a man to marriage."

"That's what I'm afraid of. The emotion that's prompting, pressing, spurring you to marry me is the one dominant emotion you possess. You want to protect me. You've made up your mind that the right way forward is via the chapel and you're always successful once you fix your mind on a goal. Unfortunately, in this case, attaining your goal requires my cooperation, so I'm afraid your record of success is about to end."

"You think I made all that up."

"No-I think you were in the main sincere, but I don't believe your conclusions fit your facts. I think you're fudging. And if you want to know whether I think you would lie in pursuit of what you saw as a higher goal, then yes, I think you'd lie through your teeth." With her eyes, she challenged him to deny it.

Lips compressed, he held her gaze intimidatingly, but didn't.

She nodded. "Exactly. We know each other all too well. In creating the countess, I knew precisely what to say, how to pull the right strings to get you to do as I wished. I'm not so puffed up in my own conceit that I imagine you aren't clever enough to do precisely the same to me. You've decided we should marry, so you'll do whatever you need to to bring our marriage about."

He looked at her steadily. She'd expected an immediate reaction, possibly an aggressive one. His silent appraisal unnerved her. She could read nothing of his thoughts in his eyes.

Then he sat up. The arm along the back of the sofa slid about her; his other hand rose to frame her face. A split second and she was held, lightly, in his embrace.

"You're right."

She blinked. Was that a wry smile she saw in his eyes? "About what?"

His gaze lowered to her lips. "That I'll do whatever I must to bring our marriage about."

Alathea mentally cursed. She hadn't meant to phrase it as a challenge. "I-"

"Tell me," he murmured. "Do you accept that what's between us is an 'ardent and undying passion'?"

It was a struggle to draw breath. "Ardent, perhaps, but not undying. Given time, it will fade."

"You're wrong." He leaned closer and brushed her lips with his. The contact was too light to satisfy; all it did was make her hungry, too.

His breath was warm on her throbbing lips. "The ardency that flooded you last night when I filled you…" His lips touched hers again, another achingly incomplete kiss. "The passion that drove you to open yourself to me, to bestow whatever sensual gift I asked for. Do you think those will fade?"

Never. Alathea swayed. Her lids were so heavy, all she could see was his lips moving closer. Her hands, on his lapels, should have held him back; instead, her fingers curled, drawing him nearer. Her wits were drowning in a sea of sensual longing. In the instant before his lips completed her conquest, she managed to whisper, "Yes."