“No,” she said with lamentable lack of force. She’d expected more reaction to her statement. Raising her chin with a defiance that felt utterly manufactured, she accepted the glass. “No, I don’t.”
The only sounds were the fire’s crackle and the rain slamming against the curtained windows. The weather reminded her of the night she’d arrived, when she offered herself to degradation. Instead she’d found… what? She wasn’t sure she knew.
With the same unhurried air, he chose the chair on the opposite side of the marble hearth and sat with a flourish of red silk. She noticed as his robe parted that he wore loose gray trousers beneath. Relief tinged her next breath.
“Very well,” he said, still in that suspiciously mild voice.
This was all too easy. She drank to fortify failing courage, the brandy burning her throat. “So you’ll leave me alone?”
A smile teased his lips as he raised his glass in a toast. She tried not to watch the working of his strong throat as he drank. She sucked in a breath, but still her chest felt constricted. Air suddenly seemed in short supply.
“Of course not. You’d be disappointed if I did.” Laughter added such warmth to his words that she longed to extend her hands toward the heat.
Stop it, Sidonie.
“I’d live,” she said drily. “You said you’d cooperate.”
“No, I merely acknowledged your wishes.”
“You’d make a wonderful politician,” she said caustically.
“Come, tesoro. You know I won’t leave you alone tonight. This morning I woke in your arms. It’s a privilege I won’t willingly forgo.”
For one treacherous moment, she remembered how cherished and safe she’d felt lying next to him. When the last place she was safe was in bed with Merrick. Bracing her shoulders against the chair, she stared him down. She hoped he couldn’t see past her stalwart exterior to her susceptible heart. This new uninvolved Merrick left her drowning in a morass of confusion. She’d lay money he wasn’t nearly as tranquil as he pretended. When she met his silvery eyes, she saw the distance had returned. It made her want to scratch and kick at him until he returned to her.
Which was absurd. He’d never been with her. Not in any meaningful sense.
This was the third night from the mere week Sidonie had granted. Impatience tightened Jonas’s gut. Cam’s unwelcome visit had reminded him that he had only this short interval before the outside world shattered their isolation. Confound him for an arrogant dog, but he’d imagined she’d be under him by now. He had no difficulty reading the expressions flickering across her lovely face. Bewilderment. Irritation. Determination boding ill for his nefarious plans.
None the reaction he wanted.
He wanted melting surrender.
“You imagine you’ve got me where you want,” she said sharply.
“You can trust my honor,” he said, meaning it although he wished it wasn’t so. This awkward chivalry worked against all his predatory intentions. “Until you say yes, you’re safe enough.”
After a revealing pause, she spoke. “I won’t say yes.” She sounded sure, but he noted how her hand clenched in her blue skirts.
The fire blazing at his back was damned hot, no matter that it was cold as an ice storm in hell outside. Or perhaps he should blame the heat on his rampant lust. Jonas slouched in his chair and released the shoulder fastening on his robe.
“A gentleman would—” Any stricture faded and her gaze seared the triangle of skin under his open robe. She looked at him as she’d look at her first meal after a month of starvation. She looked at him as though he were a clear pool of water in the Sahara. It was like she touched him, although she remained decorously across the hearth.
Oh, Sidonie, stop torturing yourself. Stop torturing me. What use virtue if it smothers all passion?
She blinked as if returning to the real world and he saw the effort she made to wrench her attention from his chest. She lifted her gaze to his face, but he knew she didn’t really see him. His heart pounded like a drum and his grip on his glass threatened its destruction. If he’d guessed his nakedness would conjure this incendiary effect, he’d have run around bare-arsed the past three days. No matter that it was November and the wind off the sea cut like a saber.
He lurched forward to correct the slant of her glass. She seemed unaware of anything beyond the sexual energy blazing between them.
She blushed at his action and straightened against the gold upholstery. He was a cad to delight in her confusion, but she had him in such a maelstrom, he was devilish tickled not to suffer alone. Her eyes were glazed, her cheeks flushed. She licked her lips, leaving them glistening and, oh, so kissable.
Her voice was husky. “Sir, I…”
Damn this. He stood and prowled across to retrieve her glass before she spilled brandy over her pretty dress. Her fingers trembled as she pulled free.
“Shh.” He placed the glass on the side table. Ignoring her discouraging posture, he started to take down her hair.
She batted at his hands. “Merrick! Stop it.”