Passion Over Time (8 page)

“Well, I mean, I doubt you have many
requirements
for your friends. Those men in the dining hall—their eyes were so cold, soulless, they looked at me like they wanted to snatch the life’s blood from my veins. As if I count for less than they do. Because my gown was a bit worn.”

“Are you quite done?”

“No, I want to understand how you can associate with such men.”

That she was correct in her assessment of Dorr and Metcalf didn’t matter. That he’d noticed their avid interest in her and been incensed by it, didn’t matter. That it pricked him to know she’d been hurt by their disrespect, didn’t matter. They were important business contacts and he answered to no one.

“That’s requirement number two. My business life is none of your concern.”

“Right.” She bolted up. “Listen, Mr. High-and-Mighty-Merchant.” She punched her finger into the crisp linen covering his chest. “I don’t allow my lovers to dictate to me.”

She left the bed and wavered on her feet, a frown marring her angelic features.

“Where the devil are you going?”

“As far away from you as I can get.”

Chapter Five

Watching as Beth turned, tripped, and struggled for balance, Grey shot off the bed, reaching her as she lost the battle. She fell into his arms, her sky-blue eyes sparking up at him.

“Take your hands from my person,” she said with a dignity worthy of a senator’s wife.

He let her go and she wobbled away a pace. Then she halted, closing her eyes as the color drained from her face and a small, miserable sounding moan escaped her.

“You better get back to bed,” he said.

She staggered over and sprawled across the bed face down, her white, rounded arse poised like a banner of surrender. The stunning invitation sent the temperature of his blood soaring, pounding in his ears. His cock surged erect again.

You can’t. You know you can’t.

Suppressing a groan, he went and took her shoulders and turned her. She lay limp as a poppet in his arms, murmuring an approximation of his name. At least he chose to believe it was his name.

Unable to resist, he bent and found her lips. She returned his kiss with languor, all wine-scented and as ripe with promise as a sun-soaked early spring afternoon.

Her movements grew more indolent. He broke the kiss and his hand found its way between her legs, his fingers sliding between the plump lips of her quim and slipping inside. She was wet, very wet and warm, oh, so warm. He withdrew his hand. God, it would be so easy to—no, he had to play the gentleman. When he felt like anything but a gentleman.

“This is the exact sort of thing I do not want to have to deal with.”

A soft snore answered him. The effect was like someone had peeled back his skull and applied a flame to the base of his brain. He’d never been so angry and sexually frustrated at the same time.

And, he must admit, disappointed too.

This was not good. He’d been stripped of all reason. Reduced to the grossest sort of emotionalism. His skin fairly bristled with his irritation. Yes, he remembered feeling this way before. Often. Long, long ago in his childhood. The mornings, the curtains drawn tight, the house dark and still as a crypt, the scent of medicinal liquor hanging in the air. Little boys could be so inconvenient. He must be quiet, so quiet, the endless mornings too frequently stretching into the late afternoons.

He inhaled uneasily. God. He detested this sort of situation. This was the very reason he kept this part of his life well ordered. The very reason he stuck to relations with women where a firm contract of financial support and mutual expectations stood between them. But this was entirely his doing. He’d been tempted by a hoyden and succumbed. He’d invited this into his life.

He took a deep, deep, deep breath then pulled the sheet over her. Briefly, he considered getting half-seas-over himself. But no, that’d be a manifest for disaster. And she might yet become ill and need his assistance. He climbed into bed, stretched out beside her.

He brushed the hair off her face, revealing fine features that looked so innocent and young in sleep.
Drunk from only three glasses of wine.
Despite himself, he smiled. Tenderness crashed over him, blending with the lust, the anger, the frustration. Like a swirling hurricane.

And maddeningly, it made him want her all the more. What was he to do with his wild girl?

* * * *

Dry-mouthed, Grey startled awake and glanced over. Beth stood by the bed. Several hours must have passed. Rays of late-day sun crept between the crack of the curtain, sparkling in tones of pink and orange on her long, flowing hair. A ribbon of gold highlighted the outline of her gently curved arse.

By God, she is gorgeous.

Tenderness choked him and he cleared his throat.

She whirled to face him, her eyes wide and bluer than blue.

“Beth, are you all right?”

“Ha! Why don’t you just
require
me to be all right?” Her contemptuous tone sent all his tender feelings to the dustbin.

She didn’t trust him.

It hurt to offer her his aid, knowing she would not trust him.

How illogical of him to feel that way. Of course she didn’t trust him. They didn’t know each other yet. At this rate, they might never come to know each other.

Yet even knowing how illogical it was for him to feel hurt, he still sensed it. An increasing, dull ache in his chest. Like a tightness there that wouldn’t dislodge. It seemed unbearable. As though he must do, promise, whatever he must to make the feeling go away.

Stop!
He put his fingers to the bridge of his nose and pressed.
Just stop this mawkish nonsense now. You know the girl has the ability to evoke certain feelings in you. It is just a fancy of yours. A throwback to all your childhood daydreaming.

It was one thing for a man to allow a woman to disrupt his private life. But this one had come to destroy even the peace within his own mind.

He took a deep, somewhat ragged breath. Then several more. This ill-conceived
affaire
had to end and soon. He couldn’t tolerate, would not tolerate, this kind of disruption in his life.

All right, I will end it now.

Thus resolved, he lowered his hand and opened his eyes. “Beth, we have to talk.”

His tone carried between them, hard and cold.

She became a shade paler, her eyes widening. She stepped back two paces and brought her hand to her collarbone.

The waning light was more filtered now, giving her hair a pure silvery-gold glow and her skin the appearance of the finest porcelain. God, she’d never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment, stripped of all her pride. Vulnerable. Every bit the artless girl she really still was.

Remorse tore through him. An increase in that sense of unbearable emotional tension. That tightness in his chest. She’d been hurt before. He had to be careful with her. “Now, Beth, please just listen to me.”

He reached for her, intending to touch her face.

She jerked out of his range and her lip curled up. “Gentlemen always pretend to be so polite.”

Her scathing tone cut into him.

He stood there speechless. Guilty. Accused.

“Oh, I thought so,” she said. Turning away, she teetered around and caught herself on a chair. After a moment’s pause, she continued towards the sideboard.

Damn it all, she’s determined to fall flat on her face.

He leaped after her, and caught her about the waist from behind. Contact with her bare, desirable body wiped the lingering sleep from his brain. Through his pantaloons, his erection surged against the soft cushion of her arse. He couldn’t repress a groan and his hand splayed over her flat belly of its own will.

“Let me go, you damned coxcomb,” she said breathlessly, jerking in his grasp.

The friction of her naked body sent a wave of sexual need through him, threatening to overwhelm his control. He gritted his teeth against it and sweat broke out on his brow. He forced himself to be reasonable. “Settle down, before you hurt yourself. Let’s get you back to bed before you fall on your face. When you’re sober, we can compare notes and decide who has more cause for grievance.”

“Oh, very amusing. Well, for your information I am recovered and furthermore, I am leaving.” She screwed herself around, glaring. “And I am never coming back.”

His heart felt as though it had suddenly died. Gone still.

She couldn’t mean it. She had to come back.

Nevertheless, her eyes were hard.

She had the power to deny him. He, who needed no one. He gaped at her, stupefied. She’d somehow inserted herself under his skin—and now she had him practically on his knees at her feet.

How the devil had that happened?

She continued staring at him, her eyes sober and startlingly blue. “Did you hear? I am leaving,” she said.

His heart leapt into life again. Beating so hard that resolution pounded through his blood. Of its own accord, his grip tightened on her.

“I don’t think so.” God, was that harsh voice really his? “At least not yet.”

* * * *

“You can’t keep me here.” Beth threw all her defiance into the statement.

Brave words to be sure. However, she’d willingly placed herself here, vulnerable to him. He could do anything he damn well pleased and she’d have little recourse against him without opening herself to ruin.

Her mouth went dry. What did she know of him? What he was capable of? She stood, naked and half twisted around as he held her from behind, his damned harder-than-iron cock pressing into her bottom. Of course, this probably excited the devil out of the arrogant tyrant. Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.

Despite her pounding heart, she kept her chin high and threw him a glare up and over her shoulder, holding his gaze. “You can’t.”

“No?” He bent closer. His silver eyes warmed, making her breath catch. He meant to kiss her. The way her heart began beating triple time, dear God, she feared she might let him.

He thinks he can order me about like I am one of his lackeys.

He would not win.

She wouldn’t let him.

The fine wool of his pantaloons tickled her bare bottom and she fidgeted in his arms. He groaned then put his lips to her temple, murmuring and lightly squeezing her breast. Sparks of delight shot through her. A moan drifted up from her belly. She swallowed it ruthlessly, only to have the suppressed energy quiver through her, sharpening the pleasure.

I won’t feel, I won’t.

He cupped both her breasts, fondling them almost roughly now with his large hands. Her instincts had lied. He didn’t intend to kiss her. He intended merely to amuse himself by mauling her teats, like she was some doxy come to his room.

Surely she was not…disappointed?

No, she was simply tired. From being up half the night sewing shoes. From skipping breakfast and drinking far, far too much. From fighting him.

His thumbs brushed her nipples. Of course, they would have to tighten so stiff and obediently under his touch and betray her rising excitement. He rolled both between a thumb and forefinger, sending dual stabs of fierce pleasure straight through to her loins. She bit her lip so hard, she tasted metal. His breath rasped in her ear and she knew he was totally distracted by his lust.

After his high-handed treatment, she owed him a comeuppance. She pulled her arm back, preparing to jab him in the ribs, only to find herself incapacitated in his grip.

“You really are a virago, aren’t you?” Amusement warmed his voice.

Angry heat rushed over her face. He spun her about. Facing him, she fought to pull away but he grasped her wrists.

“Let. Me. Go!” she cried, struggling wildly against him. Yet he held her firm.

He laughed, and the rich, deep sound resounded in her stomach. “So you can go find a weapon? I don’t think so.”

“Let me go, you ass-eared jackanapes!”

“You don’t really want that,” he said with galling assurance.

“Why else should I ask it?”

“You could have easily slipped away a moment ago and instead you chose to challenge me.” He released her hands.

She let her arms drop to her sides, too vexed by his words to let the matter go. “What are you suggesting?”

“You enjoy provoking me,” he said. “But you should be careful what you ask for.”

She felt her eyes widen. She certainly couldn’t deny the surge of what definitely felt like victory to see him so affected. Good Lord, he was correct.

He started walking forward.

“What are you doing now?” she asked, moving backwards by necessity.

“Easy now.” He slowed and motioned behind her.

She put a hand back, touched the wall. “I asked, what do you think you are doing?”

“I am done talking.”

“What the devil does that mean?”

“This,” he said thickly, lowering his head.

Her throat dried. He was right. She had provoked him. On the other hand, his cool, controlled reception in bed had driven her insane. Once again, it struck her how unfair it was that she should burn with such uncontrollable fever while he could turn his longing on and off at will. She had wanted to provoke his emotions.

Well, she’d gotten her wish and then some. From the tenor of his voice and the tautness of his hands upon her, she knew his kiss would be savage. Swallowing forcefully, she closed her eyes and braced herself. Excitement pooled in her belly, dark and hot.

His lips touched hers, warm, tender, coaxing her. A moan forced itself up but she held her breath, stifling it. His tongue flirted over her lips, a seductive promise that filled her with hunger. She refused him entry, digging her nails into her palms to keep herself from reaching up and clasping his broad shoulders.

He moved lower, kissing her throat, pressed her closer, crushing her breasts to his chest. Abraded by the starched crispness of his linen shirt, her nipples hardened to painful little points. She had to breathe. There was simply no choice. She released her breath in a low, mewling moan. To her horror, she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing her breasts against him, seeking more of the sensation that was driving her insane.