My Favorite Marquess. Alexandra BassettЧитать онлайн книгу.
he said, laughing.
She glared at him. “Did I take my clothes off, or did you tear them off?”
Those dark eyes shone at her through the mask. “Don’t you remember?”
She bit her lip.
“Blacked it out, ’ave you now?” He clucked his tongue at her. “Highness, you hurt my feelings!”
She set her jaw. “I hardly see why you should be offended!”
“Naturally a man doesn’t want to feel that his efforts to please a lady have been forgotten.”
Please her! It was all she could do not to spit.
And yet she had to admit that there was something in that deep voice of his that seemed to resonate through her today. She could almost imagine that voice purring at her through a sea of brandy, calling her Highness, making her tremble…and not with fright, either.
She trembled now.
It had not been a dream.
Oh God. To have sunk to such unspeakable depravity!
But of course, she hadn’t. She couldn’t have. He was just toying with her, making her worry that something had happened when it hadn’t.
But if it didn’t happen, a little voice asked, what was your chemise doing puddled around your waist?
That was a question only Robert the Brute could answer. And she would die before asking it.
She hurriedly fastened the final buttons on her dress, picked up her sodden cape, and stood as quickly as her delicate physical condition would allow. So help her, if she ever got out of this filthy cave, she would never touch a drop of drink again. Or touch a man again, either, even to dance. She would become one of those ascetic gentlewomen who sat around cataloguing flora and translating religious passages from their original Greek. Not that she knew Greek…although she had always loved her garden. So she would cloister herself away from society. All she needed were a few servants, an accomplished cook, and access to fashion periodicals.
“Enough now,” the smuggler said gruffly. “Get going.”
He poked her on the shoulder and she stiffened angrily. What had him in such an ill humor?
A hopeful thought stirred in her. Perhaps she had fought him off. Her thwarting him would have pricked his male pride.
She cut a glance over to him. “I suppose I was quite restless in my sleep last night,” she remarked, attempting to strike a casual tone.
That chuckle rumbled through the corridors. “Restless—aye.”
Hmm. That wasn’t much of an answer.
“I notice that I seemed to have exclusive use of the blanket. Such a pity that you were left out in the cold,” she taunted.
“Oh, I wasn’t cold.” His voice was practically a leer.
Her heart sank into the heels of her shoes. But maybe he wasn’t really implying what she thought he was.
“I’ll take a wench’s passion over a blanket any day,” he said, dousing her last hope.
So much for thwarting him! She could almost remember now. And the horrible part was that she couldn’t recall being at all revolted by the experience. Just the opposite, in fact. She remembered warmth, and a pleasant thrill at his touch, and the realization that she hadn’t kissed a man since Percy. But Percy had been cold and mechanical, whereas when the Brute had taken her into his arms, it was like the stranger had put a flame to tinder and she had gone up in smoke.
But just how far up? she worried.
What if she was with child? That thought nearly caused her legs to collapse beneath her, and yet she managed to keep going. Her mind raced at the horror of it, and she imagined bleak scenarios for hiding possible evidence of her shame from the world…Hiding herself away for nine months on the continent. Or hurling herself off a cliff.
It was still dark when they reached the mouth of the cave, although it looked like the dawn was not far away. The sound of the sea was less menacing than it had seemed before, and just the beautiful sight of open space after her night in the confines of that dark cave made her want to weep with relief.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Now we say good-bye, Highness.”
She nearly whooped for joy, but stopped short. If she seemed too happy he might keep her just for spite. “What a pity!”
His lips turned up in a caustic smile. “Aye, a great pity.”
“And yet I suppose you have your work to get back to.”
“That I do, and I advise you to head for home.”
“Home,” she repeated. But where was her home? She had no idea. Was he going to abandon her here to fend for herself?
“Unless you would care to accompany me?” he asked, mirthfully noting her hesitation. “I think you know my sentiments on your ankles, and after last night, I am certain ours could be what you might call a mutually enjoyable partnership.”
“What do you mean, after last night?” she blurted out, unable to stop herself. She knew it wasn’t ladylike to delve into such matters. But how could she live not knowing whether she was still a respectable lady or—heaven help her!—a smuggler’s strumpet?
He gave her arm a playful squeeze, and the eyes beneath that mask glinted once more, sending a wave of heat through her. “What I meant was, it was not at all unpleasurable sharing a blanket with you, Highness.”
“Not too pleasurable, either, I hope,” she said.
He grinned.
Damn! Why didn’t he just come out and say it?
He sent her an exaggerated bow. “And now, I bid you farewell, Highness.” The Brute turned to go.
“Wait!” she cried out.
She could hardly believe her ears, yet she couldn’t help calling him back. How could he just leave her? If she never saw him again, how would she know if the passion she had flashes of was just a dream or a true memory of the night they had shared?
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“Yes!” But even as the question formed in her mind, her lips seemed incapable of voicing it. She crossed her arms and asked instead, “How am I to head for home from this godforsaken spot?”
He looked surprised. “Didn’t I mention it? All you have to do is climb to the top of that rise over there.” He pointed to a steep hill. “’Tis Trembledown over there. The coming dawn should provide a most picturesque view of your new home.”
Her lips parted—and not just to hear the word picturesque fall trippingly from the smuggler’s tongue, either. “So near?”
He grinned. “I was about to tell you afore you made your daffish dash into the caves. However, I shouldn’t begrudge you the night’s adventure. It was not without its highlights.”
Violet shivered, and not just from the bone-chilling cold. She turned to make good her escape, but he grabbed her arm once more. “You said I could go,” she snapped.
“Aye, but no kiss good-bye?”
She snorted. “Not likely!”
“Then good-bye to you, and good riddance. It’s always good riddance to a woman, I say.”
“And what do you imagine me doing in the coming weeks,” she shot back, “pining after your criminal person?”
He was laughing at her again, but Violet no longer cared. Sanctuary lay just over the hill, and she was already speeding toward it. She didn’t look back to see the boat that came to shore or to see her captor turn and wave her a last farewell before it put back out to