with painful slowness until the white ribbons contrasted with
the pink of her nipples. „No, I believe you’re considerably
more… ripe, Silver.“ Then her breasts were bare, full golden
mounds spilling saucily over the lacing of her camisole. His
eyes were midnight soft as he looked down at her. „I can make
them even more ripe. Would you like me to do that?“
She was burning, heavy, her nipples hardening under his
gaze as she struggled against the tightness constricting her
lungs. „You said… you would hurry.“
„Ah, yes, I did say that.“ He slowly pulled the camisole
over her head, letting the soft material brush her swollen
breasts like a caress. „I’ll go faster after this, but you’re so… I
don’t want to hurt you.“ The material tugged teasingly and
then released her breasts. Then the camisole was over her
head. „There, it’s gone.“ He threw the camisole aside and
stepped around behind her.
„What are you doing?“ She looked over her shoulder,
startled.
„Nothing.“ He took a step closer, his arms going around
her, his hands moving deftly to unfasten her skirt. „My looking
at you seems to have an odd effect on you.“ He smiled. „I
thought you’d be more comfortable if I finished the task in this
fashion.“
„How kind,“ she said warily. The skirt had dropped in a
pool at her feet and she slowly turned her head to face
forward. Comfortable? She had forgotten what the word
comfort meant. Her heart was pounding, slamming against her
chest, and she could feel every breath he drew against her
naked back. He was unfastening her petticoats, his lips so
close to her ear that each word was a warm, sensual explosion.
„Do you see that picture on the wall? The one right in front of
you?“
„I’m not interested in your pictures.“ She tried to keep her
gaze from the mural he’d indicated but found herself staring at
it in compulsive fascination.
„Not my pictures. They were commissioned by the
gentleman you christened with that bottle of wine tonight.“
Nicholas chuckled. „One way or another Bassinger seems to
like to bring ladies to their knees, doesn’t he? That woman in
the picture has a lovely mouth but not as lovely as yours.
Would you like to do that to me?“
„Certainly not.“
His hand slowly pushed down her petticoats, his palms
skimming the naked flesh on her belly. She inhaled sharply
and flinched back. But that brought her into direct contact with
the hard muscles of his body. Very hard, she realized
breathlessly. As hard as she was melting soft, as taut as she
was pliant.
„Then would you like me to do that to you?“ he asked
thickly. „I will, you know.“ His palm was rubbing back and
forth on the softness of her belly, every touch causing an
aching clenching between her thighs. „I’d like to do it.“ His
fingers tightened suddenly in the hair surrounding her
womanhood, and he tugged gently. She made a low sound in
the back of her throat as a tiny explosion of heat tore through
her every vein. Her back arched, her shoulders pressing back
against him. „That’s right, let it come, Silver.“ His palm
covered her and he began to rub. „You like it so much.“ His
teeth gently bit at the lobe of her ear. „Let me do that to you.“
His warm tongue darted in her ear, sending another hot shiver
through her. „Let me do everything to you. This was what you
were meant for….“
„No!“ Her cry held the violence of desperation as Silver
wrenched out of his grasp and whirled away from him. She
turned to face him, clutching her loosened petticoats to keep
them from falling. „I will not.“ She backed away from him,
her naked breasts lifting and falling. „Go away!“
His black eyes were brilliant in his taut face, his nostrils
flaring with the harshness of his breathing. „Come back. You
know you want to let me touch you.“ His voice was as softly
seductive as the song of a nightingale. „You know I can please
you.“
For a moment she could feel the words pulling her with the
force of a riptide. Dear God, he was right, she thought
desperately. He could please her body. He could do more than
please her, he could drive her to the brink of sensual madness.
Even knowing how close she had come to submitting to that
allure, she still wanted to fling herself in his arms, run her
hands over his body, beg him to do whatever he wished with
her.
Beg. The repugnant thought brought her immediately to her
senses. She did not beg. Not ever. She drew herself up and
faced him. „Go away. I don’t want you here.“
He took a step forward. „Liar.“
She lifted her chin. „No, it’s lust. My body may want you,
but I am not my body.“ She touched her breast, glaring at him
fiercely. „I’m more than that. I am Silver Delaney. I don’t lie
down and spread my legs because a man tells me I must.“ A
patch of color burned in each of her cheeks and her voice was
shaking with feeling. „I am not a toy. I am not my mother!“
„I never said – “ He stopped, his dark eyes blazing.
„Dammit, you know you’re going to let me take you to bed.
It’s only a question of time. Why not…“ He trailed off as he
read the rejection in her face. His breath released in an
impatient explosion of sound as his hands clenched into fists at
his sides. „You’re sending me away?“
Silver made no answer.
He stood very still, looking at her, then he turned and
strode toward the door and threw it open. His voice held a note
of barely restrained savagery. „I have no liking for women
who pretend to be what they are not.“ His glance over his
shoulder was a burning sword thrust. „You’re no prim
schoolgirl, and the only reason you let me undress you was
because you wanted my hands on you. You wanted me,
dammit!“ The door slammed behind him with a force that
shook the crystal prisms on the rim of the lamp on the bedside
table.
Silver gazed at the panels of the door for a long moment.
He had been so angry. Why couldn’t she summon a like anger
to use against him? Her body still ached with hunger and
emptiness. She closed her eyes, a shiver of yearning rippling
through her. Nicholas could have filled her body and stopped
the aching. Had he spoken the truth? Had she allowed him to
undress her not because she wanted to meet his challenge but
because she desired him? She must stop thinking of him. He
cared nothing for her. He was the enemy. Tomorrow evening
she would escape this boat and never see Nicholas again.
An unexplainable thrust of pain pierced through her. No,
she thought in sudden panic. She would feel nothing for him.
Not lust, certainly not love. Nothing.
It was a litany she repeated over and over to herself as if
saying the rosary as she finished undressing and turned out the
lamp. A litany she continued to murmur as she lay in the
darkness for the many sleepless hours that followed.
Nothing. She must feel nothing for Nicholas.
6
A yellow satin gown was delivered to the stateroom by
Valentin shortly before six the next evening.
He stood in the doorway, the brilliantly colored garment
draped over his arm, a pair of yellow satin slippers in his hand,
and a faintly apologetic smile on his lips. „Nicky sent these.
He thought you’d be a trifle more comfortable at the dinner
table tonight wearing something more appropriate.“