Beyond Seduction (Bastion Club 6)
Holding her gaze, sensing the smoldering heat that still remained behind the word, sensing how strongly it drew him, he forced himself to raise his brows back. “Well what?”
If he didn’t cling to cool superiority, she would have him yet.
Madeline frowned harder. “Aren’t you going to…?” With her free hand she gestured weakly between them. She was operating on instinct, had been all along, yet while her experience in this field was all but nonexistent, she knew he’d retreated from—reneged on—the main event.
Given her determination to know, and know tonight, she was less than thrilled.
He shifted back, increasing the space between them. His brows remained high, his expression otherwise impassive. “I told you—not now, not here. If you want to know more, to experience more, then I have a price, one you need to be willing to pay.”
Detecting, clearly, the challenge in his tone, she narrowed her eyes. “I thought your stated aim was to seduce me.”
His lips curved tightly. “It is.”
“Well then, what’s wrong with here and now? Surely that qualifies, given I’m clearly willing?”
He studied her for a long moment, then shook his head. “No—not with you. With you, seduction equates to two hours and more of dedicated engagement in a venue conducive to the task.”
Her eyes couldn’t get any narrower. For one brief instant she considered throwing herself at him, literally, but he continued to hold one of her hands; through his grip she could sense his resistance, the tension, the determination to deny her any further engagement, and he was undeniably stronger and more experienced than she. Losing a wrestling match with him wouldn’t improve her temper.
She lifted her chin. “Where?” Her tone was as cool, as definite, as his. “And when?”
He didn’t smile; she saw not a single sign of gloating. “Tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock. I’ll wait for you where the ride along the cliffs meets the path down to Castle Cove.”
She thought, then nodded. “Very well.” Pushing away from the wall, relieved to discover her limbs once more hers to command, she retrieved her hand, then turned and walked to the corner.
He followed, keeping pace alongside.
As she rounded the corner, she haughtily confirmed, “Tomorrow on the cliffs above Castle Cove.”
She’d intended to have the last word.
Instead, as they strolled toward the clutch of guests outside the drawing room, he murmured, his voice low, deep, steeped in sinful promise, “I’ll be waiting.”
Battling the sensual shiver his tone let alone his words evoked, she accepted defeat, and kept her lips shut.
Chapter 8
At two o’clock the next day, Gervase sat on a flat rock at the top of the path that led down to Castle Cove. He held Crusader’s reins loosely in one fist while the big gray cropped the short grass nearby.
He stared out at the sea, at the long waves rolling in to gently wash the sands, their roar today muted to a soft swoosh, and tried hard not to think—not of the anticipation that knotted his gut, nor of the unexpected fear that, once away from him and with time to think, she would have changed her mind.
The sound of hoofbeats, regular and repetitive, reached him; even as he turned to see who approached, he was reminding himself how many people rode the cliff path on any day.
But it was her. Her hair, uncovered, marked her unmistakably as female; the fact she was astride a large and powerful chestnut confirmed her identity.
Nearing, she slowed, reining in to a walk. He rose.
When she halted, he was waiting to grasp the bit and hold the chestnut steady as she slid down from the high back.
She came around the horse’s head. She was wearing a long full riding skirt over trousers, a matching jacket over a crisp linen blouse; it being high summer, jacket, skirt and trousers were of lightweight twill, dyed a regal blue. As usual, tendrils of her fine coppery-brown hair had worked loose to frame her face.
His eyes traced her features. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” The confession was on his lips before he’d thought.
She raised her brows. “I asked for this…appointment.” She studied him in return. “Did you think I’d balk?”
“I thought you might think again.” Drawing Crusader around to flank her chestnut, he waved down the path, and started walking.
She gave a soft snort, and kept pace alongside. “Well, here I am. Where are we going?”