"I know because Farris had them investigated. They're thieves. They have been most of their lives, and while I don't question the motives behind their life of crime, I'm done paying for it. They have orders to leave London by week's end or lose the settlement I've agreed to give them. Is that a clear enough picture?"
He took a step into the room. Alex unconsciously braced herself. "Very clear," she replied stiffly, irritated to have been momentarily intimidated. "But it still doesn't give you the right to intrude into my house and life. This is my home, Sam, and even if you hadn't disregarded our agreement, I don't appreciate your barging in."
"I saved you from a thief, possibly more. Most would thank me."
"Thank you," she said coolly. "Now, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave."
"What if I said I didn't want to?"
"Then, you'd be no better than he. I don't want anyone taking advantage of me."
"Am I taking advantage of you?" His voice had suddenly gone soft.
"Yes." She steeled herself against the silken accents, against potent memory, against his seductive gaze. "Yes, you are. I prefer my privacy."
"What the hell does that mean?"
She straightened her shoulders. "It means I can't-I won't allow you to take over my life."
"And I've done that?"
"Completely. Since I met you, I haven't done anything but-"
"Make love?"
She flushed crimson, but her voice, when she spoke, was firm. "I can't afford to keep doing that."
"Why not? You liked it."
"It's not enough. Don't you understand?"
"No, I don't. Explain to me why you won't do something you like."
"Explain to me why making love is all you do."
"It's not all I do."
Her brows rose. "You're simply misunderstood by the world at large. Is that it?"
"I don't care what the world thinks."
"Obviously. And perhaps there's where our visions differ. I do care-"
This time his brows rose. "Really. I don't know too many ladies who pose nude."
"Let's just say I care in my own way," she said, impassioned about her freedom. "And I also care about a great number of things other than my own pleasure."
"Don't suddenly turn Puritan on me. I know you better."
"You couldn't wait even two days."
"Waiting somehow makes me a better person?"
"You could have done it for me. Instead, you chose to indulge yourself as usual-as always."
"Look, I don't want to fight," he said quietly.
"And I don't want to give up my life." She lifted her chin. "I've come too far to relinquish my independence for-what? Your capricious desires?"
His eyes suddenly turned chill. "Nobody asked you to give up your life," he said curtly. "And pleasure isn't necessarily evil, despite your newfound virtue. You're reading way the hell too much into this, sweetheart." He nodded, a brisk, dismissive gesture. "It's been interesting." His cool gaze raked her from head to foot. "I'll give you that." And then he turned and walked away.
When the door shut a moment later, the soft sound was utterly final.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Well, that little scene demonstrated how useless it was to try to please a woman, Sam decided angrily, striding away from Alex's studio. He hadn't even had a drink since last he saw her-not with Eddie, not the previous night, nor had he considered seeing another woman, all in an effort to meet some damned exacting standard of some dutiful bitch who had just told him she wasn't changing her life for him.
As if he wanted her to change her life for him!
As if he wanted more than the pleasure of her damned hot body!
Standing at the curb, he surveyed the empty street, begrudging his stupidity in sending his carriage away. Who would think she didn't want to have sex when she'd been having sex with him for nearly a week now. Silly him. He should have known she was in a new celibate phase. If he was a fortune-teller, maybe he might have known, he fumed, turning toward the park. Well, he wished her pleasure in her cold, chaste bed. There were plenty of other women in London who were more than willing.
But he'd not walked far before he found himself wondering just how long her bed would remain chaste, and considering the passionate nature of their relationship the last few days, that disastrous thought refused to be dislodged from his brain. She didn't seem like the type who would go long without sex and, of course, there was always damned Harry with his soulful eyes just waiting to console her. Merde and damn and bloody hell. It wasn't a pleasing prospect. Especially knowing how unbelievably hot she could be. Especially after having screwed her almost constantly the past week. Dammit, he didn't like to think of her with Harry-or whomever-and for a flashing moment he considered pirating her away to some distant place where he could keep her for himself. Cooler reason almost immediately put period to such a ludicrous notion, and he instead surveyed the street ahead, looking for a pub.
He needed a drink badly.
Alex was equally distrait, but in a less predaceous way. She didn't distribute blame or wish to spirit him away for herself alone. Instead, she wished it were possible to have him without compromising her entire life. It wasn't, of course. Men like Sam were used to making demands, used to having their wishes fulfilled, familiar only with compliance. She couldn't so easily acquiesce, although she realistically understood he hadn't asked her for anything more than the pleasure of her company.
Perhaps she was the one who wanted more, and for a contemplative moment she considered the astonishing thought.
Did she want him for more than sex?
Did it matter if she did, she sensibly posed a second later, considering his manner of living?
The answer to that question was negative in the extreme, and setting aside any further flights of fancy, she decided what she needed was a good book, her own company, and an evening of quiet to bring her life back into balance. She glanced at the clock. Four-thirty. It was going to be a long night.
It turned out to be an equally long night for Sam. He sat alone in his study, making Owens extremely nervous because he stopped drinking before nine, refused food or visitors, even turning Eddie away, and when Owens peeked in from time to time, his master was busy writing at his desk until well past midnight.
It was enough to cause alarm.
"I told you it wouldn't work," Mahmud said for the tenth time that night, still frightened by his narrow escape. "I wish you'd stop scheming and let us go home to Egypt."
"We will just as soon as I exact a last measure of revenge, dear brother," Farida insisted, lying beside him with her arms crossed under her head. "We still have two days before we have to leave, and I want to make Ranelagh miserable. And don't say taking his money will bother him, because he'll hardly notice so small a sum. In fact, he won't notice it at all!"
"If you think my sleeping with Miss Ionides would have made him angry, I think you're mistaken. Anyway," he muttered, "they were fighting when I left."
"Of course it would have made him angry, you stupid fool. He would have been humiliated to find you in her bed."
"I wonder if you're deluding yourself. I doubt the man can be humiliated by a woman. He's indifferent to them, if you ask me."
"I would have found it a charming fillip, if nothing else-a little frosting on the cake of vengeance, but since the ruse is exposed-"
"I don't know why you thought it wouldn't be if he's been sleeping with her all week…"
"Darling"-she turned to him with a feline smile-"you simply don't understand where best to prick a man's pride. Nevertheless," she added, a new briskness to her voice, "since we can't mortify him with his newest bit of fluff, I was thinking, maybe we could take that gold Ptolemy necklace he has in his collection. I always wanted it anyway."
"Lord, Fari! Your greed is going to land you in jail."