A Thoroughly Compromised Lady (19 page)

‘She quite steals my breath.' Robert nudged him gently in the ribs with an elbow, calling his attention to the top of the stairs.

Dulci stood there, staring down, catching his eye with a dazzling smile. She might have been in the finest ballroom in London. He'd seen her count less times and yet her beauty did not cease to astonish him. What man could not look at her and not love her? For all his self-pro claimed rules and self-imposed absences, he could not tell his heart not to love her, futile though it was.

Her lavender skirts swayed delicately as she descended, showing delightful peeps of the cunning slippers beneath. She looked fresh, innocent and yet not without intelligence—in short, the way a virtuous woman looked. Such a woman was not for him, although he could not stop his heart from loving her. Dulci belonged in London and he had to ensure her safety. The further away she was from him, the safer she'd be. His life was dirty, full of secrets he could not tell. Gladstone was right. There were some things a man could not earn, some things a man was born with or without. Perhaps nobility was one of those things after
all. He could no more be noble, no matter how many titles William hurled at his head, than Gladstone could be common.

They'd had plans for tonight, but Dulci's pique with him at the shack and the developments of the morning had probably effectively ruined them, much to his regret. He would have liked one more glorious night with her, something to remember her by, for she surely would not want to see him again after he told her what he'd decided. This time, their goodbye would not be temporary. He did not anticipate there'd be a reunion after she had a few months to cool her temper. This time, goodbye would be permanent.

Lady Carmichael-Smythe bustled forwards, taking Dulci's hands at the bottom stair. ‘There you are, Lady Dulcinea. The musicians are just starting. You're in time to lead out the opening dance with Viscount Wainsbridge.'

Jack summoned his usual ballroom smile and bowed in Dulci's direction as her eyes met his. Beneath his polished so phistication, she would never know his heart was breaking. In the meanwhile, he would have a few last things to remember her by, starting with this dance.

‘W
e're always dancing, Jack. Have you noticed?' Dulci was all brilliant smiles, but her tone was brittle, almost wearied as they led off the ball. Perhaps Jack had finally worn her out. He'd certainly led her a merry chase in all ways. Or perhaps she'd finally given up. It was hard to think of it as being the latter. She was no quitter and yet there seemed to be no other solution. At some point one had to give up a fruit less hunt or resign oneself to mediocrity and half-measures. She wasn't sure she could live with half-measures where Jack was concerned. She wanted his heart and his body, all of him.

‘Will you do something for me, Dulci?' Jack swung them through the first turn, his grip tight at her waist, his efforts careful to keep her at the proper distance.

‘I can't commit to anything until I know what it is first,' Dulci said stubbornly.

Jack's face looked serious, his eyes narrowing. ‘Governor Carmichael-Smythe has informed me that Andrew's boat is ready to sail back to England. There's
a place for you on that boat. It leaves in a couple of days. You have time to pack and say your goodbyes.'

She played the flirt, trying to hide her extreme dismay with a saucy toss of her head and a lilting little laugh as if this were the silliest of suggestions, a grand joke. ‘Jack, we've barely just arrived. This is our
welcome
ball, for heaven's sake. It's been barely two weeks. It took longer to get here.' This request of his was more final than she'd expected. It was worse than being left behind to wait for his return from the expedition. At least then she'd still be here. Now, he was sending her away. If she left, who knew when she'd see him again.

‘Thank you for the offer, but I'll choose to stay a while. There's still some work I need to do for my articles. There will be other boats when the time comes.' She was cautious to avoid saying she wanted to wait for him. A thousand tragedies could befall him in the jungles. She wanted to be close. What if he needed her?

Jack's gaze hardened at her refusal. ‘I need you to get on that ship,' he said bluntly.

She was still the flirt. ‘That's not exactly how a girl wants to be needed, Jack.'

‘With Ortiz here, Georgetown has become too dangerous for you. I cannot guess with certainty what Ortiz will do next. Brandon will kill me if any harm comes to you.'

Dulci's heart sank another notch. Push and flirt as she might, she could not wring a single word of personal affection from Jack. He wanted her on the boat for Brandon's sake and her own safety. Even if he'd said he needed her on the boat for his own peace of mind, because he cared for her too much to place her in jeopardy, she might have considered it.

Why had she thought he would be any different tonight? Not once had he uttered love words, words of affection to her. His level of concern was based on respect and responsibility, which, however noble, was comparatively empty.

‘All things considered, Jack, I think I will stay,' Dulci said coolly. The music stopped and Dulci curtsied. ‘Thank you for the dance.'

She meant to hurry off to the next dance partner, but Jack's eyes glittered dangerously. He did not like being rebuffed.

‘What do you think of Lady Carmichael-Smythe's hypothesis now?' he asked casually with his usual lazy sensuality.

‘I think it will remain a hypothesis.' She had to escape. If he touched her one more time, the slightest of caresses would destroy her. She would give in. She knew herself well enough to know she was on the brink of giving him what he wanted, of getting on that ship simply because he needed it regardless of his reasons for wanting it. Dulci turned sharply on her heel and began walking to the sidelines, to safety.

One…two…three… She was going to make it. She made it five steps before Jack's hand closed about her arm, his voice harsh in her ear. ‘Come with me, now.'

How like Jack to wait until she was convinced he wasn't coming after her, that she was finally free of his spell.

There was no verandah this time, no garden stroll, no dark library. He marched her straight to her rooms down an unpeopled hallway and locked the door behind them.

‘I am sure it's bad form here as well to deprive a
hostess of her honoured guests all at once,' Dulci began, but underneath her light tone she was scared. She'd never seen Jack this angry before. She didn't worry that he would hurt her. He was a far too con trolled man for such mindless violence. But she did worry he would question her and he was an expert interrogator. All he'd done was feed the burglar dinner, offer conversation and he had the confession he needed to prove Ortiz guilty of master minding the break in. He wouldn't need nearly that much skill to have her babbling all sorts of craziness. Then he really would be done with her. He wouldn't want a clinging woman who begged him for the crumbs of his attention.

With a savage jerk, Jack pulled off his care fully tied cravat.

‘What are you doing?' Dulci was all wariness.

Jack shot her a sharp look, his eyes stalking her, assessing her, his voice like danger wrapped in silk. ‘My dear, I am redefining the nature of our relationship.'

 

Why did he bother to plan anything when it came to Dulci? This wasn't going according to any blue print he'd mentally laid out when he'd decided to declare his feelings. He'd wanted a serene setting: champagne, stars overhead, a quiet walk in the garden. Instead, he had Dulci locked in her room, spitting-cat mad over his request she take the boat home, Dulci flirting and flippant, arguing against a sensible notion, all out of stubborn pride.

There wasn't time to coax her into a better disposition. He was leaving on the morrow for an in de finite period of time. He had to know she would be safe. He had to know if there was a reason to return to England
when his work here was done. She was in no mood to listen and he was in no mood to be patient.

An explosive combination if ever there was one.

‘Redefine?' Dulci gave him that cold, arched-eye-brow look of hers. She sat in an over stuffed chair by the window, arranging her skirts and managing to look like a queen on her throne.

‘Yes, redefine, dammit,' Jack growled.

‘That presumes there was something defined to start with.' Her haughty tone suggested she didn't care one iota. Tonight, he could not believe that. Tonight, he could not be put off by her practised wiles, used on others to enforce their distance. He would not be treated as an in different suitor.

Jack shrugged out of his evening coat, aware that Dulci eyed him with great speculation, hungry speculation in spite of her cool comments to the contrary.

‘We can no longer be lovers, Dulci.'

She merely looked at him, a tolerant queen allowing her subject the luxury of speaking freely in her presence, but something flickered in her eyes. ‘And why is that, Jack?'

He advanced towards her chair, gratified to see her eyes widen at his approach. She was not as immune as she wanted to appear. He trapped her, an arm on each side of the chair. ‘I want more than sex from you, Dulci.' The terms were blunt and honest. There was no more time for misinterpretations and cross-purposes. He did not want a war of wits with her. If they were to fight, he wanted to fight without the stealth of double meanings. If she wanted to argue, she would have to do it without artifice. ‘What
do
you want, Jack?' The last bastion of her
coyness teased, her tongue darted lightly over her lips, whetting them provocatively.

Jack leaned close, delicately feathering his breath over a sensitive ear lobe. Dulci shuddered beneath him and Jack felt a lover's elation surge within him. He pressed his advantage. ‘I want you, Dulci, all of you: mind, body, soul.' He pushed down the shoulders of her gown perhaps a bit roughly, freeing her breasts, then lowered his mouth to them, kissing each in turn, sucking on her nipples until they sprang sweetly erect in his mouth and Dulci moaned. Jack sat back on his haunches, pushing up her full skirts, baring her thighs, his hands riding high on her legs at the warm juncture between them. He would seduce the right answer out of her if he had to. His thumbs stroked her curls, warm and damp, her cleft already wet with want. His thumb parted her soft, secret lips and teased the taut nubbin within.

From his intimate crouch, he watched Dulci with a lover's delight. Her head was thrown back, her hair starting to fall in provocative fullness from its pins, her breasts naked and raised, her gown crushed about her, her mind absorbed with the heat of passion for the moment instead of hot argument.

Jack bent his head, placed his mouth where his thumb had been and blew gently. Dulci cried out, the half-pant, half-gasping sob of a woman thoroughly caught up in her fulfilment. She arched against him. He held her possessively, his hands bracketing her hips, bracing her, as his mouth took her in the most intimate of fashions in the most intimate of places. This was his woman, complete and ready for him, not abashed by his boldness, but joining him in it, not afraid of her own pleasure. Before the night was through he would prove the right ness of
his possession to her. He would brook no refusal and she would give him none.

Dulci rocked against him, her hands clenching his hair, driving him to give her greater pleasure. His arousal was heavy and full, yearning for its own completion. He freed himself, sliding Dulci to the floor. Overstuffed or not, the chair would not hold them both, not as wild as they both were. He rose over her, covering her with his length, surrounding her with his strength. Her body answered, her passion surging as she took all of him, her body rev el ling in the power of him as it slid into hers, commanding the rhythm of their joining, leading them to utter completion. Dulci bucked hard beneath them, shattering in her pleasure and he shuddered deep within her, filling her.

He had no desire to move from the floor, only to lay there with her, basking in the after glow of their spent passions. They were calmer now, their passion not being the only emotion quenched by a bout of lovemaking. For the moment she was tamed. Now was the time to tell her what his body had shown her.

Jack traced a light finger from the pulse in the base of her neck, in the valley between her breasts. ‘Dulci, I love you.'

Dulci's eyes fluttered open. Surprise and shock were mirrored there in the moments before she became guarded, once more the Incomparable who'd spent most of her adult life rejecting proposals, protecting herself from those who would claim her as a prize. ‘What does that mean, Jack?' She was all business, not exactly the tone he'd expected from a woman who had just been so thoroughly pleasured.

‘It means I want us to be together, no more wondering if each time is the last.'

Dulci hoisted herself up on one elbow, looking like a well-tumbled woman, her hair falling gloriously to one side. Jack felt the intensity of her veiled gaze as she studied him for a long moment, contemplating, weighing. When she spoke, her tone carried a mordant edge. ‘Why, Jack, is this a marriage proposal?'

So Dulci wanted to duel albeit without their rapiers. Jack schooled his own features into a devil-may-care expression that gave away no sign of his disappointment. He'd never told a woman he loved her before and Dulci had all but thrown the words back in his face. Who knew, the night was young, she still might.

‘If it was, would you accept?'

‘Answer my question first,' Dulci countered. ‘Are you proposing marriage?'

He'd meant only to declare his feelings tonight. There was too much ahead of them yet to think of marriage. Perhaps he would con tem plate marriage after the mission was complete and he knew he had something to offer her besides a viscount with a ruined reputation if the mission failed. Jack hesitated only fractionally, but Dulci's insights were too keen. She noted the reluctance almost immediately and seized on it.

‘So it's not a marriage proposal, but perhaps a proposal of a different kind. Eh, Jack?'

Jack leapt to his feet, adjusting his trousers. ‘No, damn it. I am not asking you to be my mistress. Do you think I have no honour when it comes to you?' The very thought was appalling and he was angry with her for even thinking such an arrangement spoke to the quality of their relationship.

‘But you're not asking me to be your wife.'

Jack's temper flared. ‘Not tonight. How can I think of marriage with all the dangers that lie ahead? I cannot responsibly make a proposal until my name is cleared.'

Dulci gained her feet, her voice in deadly earnest. ‘Don't bother. I wouldn't accept.'

‘I deserve better from you, Dulci, than hot words. I said I loved you. In my mind, that's worth more than any marriage proposal.' Love meant promises, surely she knew that? Saw what he was offering her?

‘Love is not enough when it's offered from a man who has all but ignored me since our arrival, who hasn't allowed me to be a partner in this venture although I have risked everything and followed him halfway around the world, who makes his work for the king the single most important priority in his life to the exclusion of all else. I dare say if the king knocked on the door right now, you'd be gone without a backward glance. No woman wants to exist on the sidelines of her husband's life.'

‘You know it doesn't work that way in my case. It's too dangerous.' Jack drew a ragged, frustrated breath. She was asking for too much, far more than he could give. How could he function in a world where Dulci was at constant risk?

Dulci gave a slight nod of her head. ‘I will not be marginalised, Jack.'

He had been dismissed. It was over. All that remained was to say goodbye, but Dulci had one last thing to say.

‘Do you really think saying “I love you” would change any thing? For that matter, that marriage would
change anything? Neither will stop you from running at the king's command into secret missions you can't share or leaving for months on end.'