She had been as disgusted as he by the sexual play they had witnessed during dinner and since.
Lastly, he would swear that her responses just now, to his kisses and the caress of his hands, lips and tongue, had been completely without guile or pretence.
As had her dismay when she realised that Richard Nichols had been watching them.
‘It could have,’ she choked now. ‘It could have!’
Mariah pulled out of Wolfingham’s arms before standing up abruptly, knowing, that if Richard Nichols had not played his hand too early, that she had been on the brink—the very brink!—of allowing her emotions to rule her head.
She had wanted Darian Hunter to make love to her.
She had hungered for it.
Had been so lost to the pleasure of his hands and mouth, of wanting that pleasure to continue, that she had almost been on the point of begging him to make love to her!
It was incomprehensible.
Unbelievable.
Unacceptable!
She did not find pleasure in a man’s arms, in his closeness, in his lovemaking. She never had. She never would. How could she when the single memory of that act was of the violation of her body rather than pleasure?
When Martin Beecham, the man who had later become her husband, had forced himself upon her shortly before her seventeenth birthday.
A rape of her body and her soul of which Christina was the result, thus forcing Mariah into becoming Martin’s wife.
Chapter Eight
‘What is it, Mariah?’ Darian questioned sharply as he stood up.
He made no move to touch her again; Mariah now looked so fragile, in her emotions as well as her body, that he feared she might crumple and fall at his feet if he attempted to place so much as a finger upon her.
‘You can ask me that?’ she choked out incredulously, those turquoise eyes glittering brightly in the pallor of her face. ‘After learning that the two of us were to be nothing more than exhibits in the Nicholses’ peep show?’
He grimaced. ‘Only if we had proceeded to make love together. Which we have not.’
Mariah could no longer meet his gaze. ‘That does nothing to change the fact— Oh! Do you think anyone could have been behind those walls earlier this evening?’ she gasped, eyes wide as she twisted her gloved fingers together.
Darian shrugged. ‘I doubt, with the responsibility of his other guests, that Nichols would have found the time to come up the stairs and observe you dressing.’
‘I was referring to our conversation, Darian! Did we say anything in this room earlier that might have— Do you seriously think that weasel Nichols might have watched me bathing and dressing earlier this evening?’ Mariah’s face had taken on a sickly green hue at the thought of it.
‘As I recall, our conversation was perfectly innocuous earlier,’ he reassured. ‘I also think it more likely that Lady Nichols, after escorting us to our bedchambers, would have lingered upstairs to observe me!’ Darian’s mouth twisted with distaste for the very idea of having that pale blue gaze moving lasciviously over his naked body whilst he’d bathed and dressed earlier.
Mariah stilled. ‘You believe there to be similar peepholes in your own bedchamber? In all the bedchambers?’ she added aghast.
‘After tonight I believe the master and mistress of this house to be capable of anything! After all, this is not the Nicholses’ main country residence.’ He shrugged. ‘They do not bring their children here, for example, but leave them at their Norfolk estate with their nurse. Thank heavens for small mercies!’
Mariah thought of the other occasions when she had stayed in this house, totally unaware of the eyes that might have been secretly watching her. As she bathed. As she went about her toilette. As she stood completely naked before dressing.
She felt ill.
Unclean.
Violated!
As violated as she had been that night eighteen years ago when Martin had lured her into one of the private rooms at a ball they were both attending, locked the door behind them and then coldly and calculatedly assaulted her. Warning her after the event that no one would believe the word of the daughter of a minor landowner and merchant against an earl’s, if she were to accuse him of the deed.