Further Than Passion (13 page)

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day. She was swamped by the impression that she was abandoning an important link to her real self.

A final time, she picked it up and clutched it to her heart. The gold was warm, and the stones seemed to glow and vibrate.

"Kate." Quietly, he called from behind her.

As if the ring had burned her, she dropped it and prayed.
Please, Lord, don't let it be Marcus. I'm so weak. I'm powerless to resist him or what he brings to my life.

"Kate," he summoned again, "I'm so glad you're here."

As she spun toward him, her jumbled sentiments careened between dread and elation.

He was balanced against the doorjamb to the adjoining chamber, clad solely in a loose-fitting pair of white trousers that she imagined a sultan might wear when entertaining in his private harem. He'd been bathing, and his skin glistened with moisture. His hair was wet and swept off his forehead.

Never having viewed a male body before his, she was fascinated, enthralled, positive she was perusing a fine specimen. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, his legs lanky. His chest was covered with a matting of black hair. It was thick across the top; then it thinned in the center and descended to destinations she couldn't fathom.

He hadn't shaved, and his cheeks were shadowed, his eyes incredibly blue. He looked dangerous, tempting, seductive, and she was terrified about how she'd behave. If he but snapped his fingers, she would debase herself in any fashion he commanded.

Grinning, he asked, "Have you decided to filch more of my jewels?"

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She couldn't speak, neither to deny his accusation nor to de
f
end hersel
f
, and he pushed away from the threshold and approached until they were toe-to-toe. She was assailed by the smells of heated water and bathing salts.

Reaching around her,, he tipped the bowl and detected the ring she'd hazarded limb and reputation to return.

“I
see you've brought it back. Don't you want it anymore? Or has a gaudier trinket tickled your fancy?" Laughing, he held it up, studying it as if to ascertain whether the gems were still attached. "I'm afraid you can't have this one, but I'd be happy to have you choose another."

He offered her the collection, exhorting her to select a substitute, and the pile of priceless treasures glittered, impugning her, condemning her, for her commonness, her tediousness.

He sighed.

"You know, I really don't car
e
if you steal from me"—
h
e set the bowl on the dresse
r
—"but I wish you wouldn't. I consider us to be friends. If you're in trouble, or you need my assistance, you can confide in me. I'll help you."

"I wasn't stealing," she blurted out. She was rigid as a board, her arms crushed to her sides, as she fought the overwhelming urge to stroke his chest. If she touched him, she couldn't predict what sin she might be spurred to commit.

He waited for her to explain herself or justify her actions, and when she didn't, his disappointment was clear. He'd expected more of her, or had presumed she'd trust him.

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"Has something bad happened?
"

She was startled by the question. "No, why?"

"You seem upset."

Gad, did she parade her problems on her sleeve, lik
e
some sort of banner?

"I'm not."

"You can tell me what it is, Kate. Despite what you've heard about me, I won't fail you."

He was so sincere, so earnest, and she yearned to divulge her woes. It was rare when people took an interest in her, when they evinced concern or bestowed their support. He had wide shoulders, the kind that could easily bear a woman's burdens, and it would be a relief to confess about her mother, about Selena, to probe his advice about the peculiarities with Selena's finances. He was rich, and likely dealt with money issues on a daily basis, but in the end, she couldn't proceed.

As Regina always counseled, Kate embarrassed herself when she talked about her parents. Their ignominies reflected poorly on her, made others speculate about her character, her integrity. Idiotic as it sounded, she was anxious for Stamford to like her and relish her company, which he appeared to do. Her meeting him was the only extraordinary event that had ever transpired to cheer her dull, dreary existence, and she wouldn't do anything to da
m
pen his attention.

Besides, why would he immerse himself in her petty family dilemma? He boasted about his dearth of ties, and reveled in his seclusion and aloneness. He'd never understand why any of it mattered, and he'd deem her a fool for having imposed.

"I'm not distressed," she lied. "And I'm
not
a thief. I jus
t
... just stopped by becaus
e
—"

₁₁₄

"I missed you all day," he interrupted.

"Don't spew such ridiculous drivel."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm imprudent enough to want it to be true."

"Oh, Kate, do you think so little of me? That I would toy with you and lead you on with false flattery?" He mulled his words, then chuckled. "Don't answer that."

Without warning, he bent down and brushed a tender kiss across her lips. The move rattled her, flustered her. It was simply impossible to remain strong when he was so near. She was starved for affection, and she quickly lost the battle to contain her baser impulses. She pulled him close, the embrace growing into much more than it had started out to be.

They dawdled, kissing and caressing, and she couldn't have said how long they tarried, transfixed by the sweetness of the moment. Finally, he broke it off, and he clasped her hand.

"Come."

He escorted her into the adjacent room, which she knew from her previous misadventure was the location of his massive bed. It was the one fit for a king, wher
e
—
s
he had no doubt!—
h
e regularly consorted with all manner of decadent women.

If she went with him, what did it say about herself and her nature? What did it say about him and his attitude toward her?

Shockingly, she didn't care. He could suppose her to be promiscuous or rash, immoral or dissolute. She was eager for the pleasure and release he so masterfully gave her, and it dawned on her that, deep down, she'd been hoping he'd be at home. After her stressful

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visit to Selena, she'd needed to be with him. Even though she'd been sure he'd be off perpetrating whatever despicable deeds kept him occupied, a tiny part of her had wished he'd catch her.

How pathetic she was! Pining away and aching to be with him, even though it was folly! In such a short interval, he'd begun to mean too much to her, and though she was terrified by the prospects for heartbreak, she decided not to fight her attraction. There was something about him that called to her, that made her want to throw caution to the wind, to tempt fate and damn the consequences.

When she was around him, she felt alive and vital, not invisible but vibrant and appealing and worthy of his esteem.

She tightened their grip, signaling that she was co
m
-plicit, a partner in debauchery, willing and disposed to misbehavior.

To her surprise, he ushered her past the bed, guiding her to the dressing room beyond. His ornate bathing tub was positioned in the center.

"What are we doing?" she queried.

"
The water is still warm. I thought you might enjoy a bath."

A bath! It was such an extravagance, a normal occurrence during her childhood that had once been taken for granted but now was a delicious memory because it was hardly ever allowed.

"I believe I might," she tentatively assented, much more thrilled than she wanted to reveal.

"Just so you let me wash your back. Then, we'll make love all night."

A thousand wicked images careened through her

11
6

head, of the two of them wet, slippery, together in the basin. Did men and women perform such naughty antics? Was it common? How could she be twenty-five and never have heard of such dissipation? Dare she join him in his depravity? Was she ready to be corrupted?

With great deliberation, she pondered the questions, and the answer, when it arrived, was so easy, so exciting.

"Why not?" she responded.

Why not, indeed. After all, who was to tell her no?

9

Marcus unbuttoned her dress, taking his time, even though he yearned to rip off the drab garment. She was too exceptional, too spirited, to be relegated to a servant's dowdy attire, and it was a pity that she was consigned to such mediocrity.

The notion of her dreary prospects had him considering radical steps to alter her situation, but what would they
be?

The only part she could play was that of mistress, and if he was reckless enough to ask her, he couldn't imagine her agreeing. What sane woman would have him? But if she said
yes,
was he prepared to follow through?

He didn't want her as his mistress. The label was demeaning and didn't express how he felt about her, yet he couldn't describe the role she should fill. He merely knew that he had to be with her, that he'd spent the entire day pondering her and devising furtive plans as to how they could philander more frequently without being detected.

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How could such a massive mansion seem so accursedly small? There were too many inhabitants and not enough privacy. He'd like to whisk her away to his country home, just the two of them, flitting off in his carriage. They'd trifle and cavort until he'd sated himself, until he couldn't bear another second of her fascinating company, until he could concentrate on some topic besides her.

Was his obsession driving him mad? O
r
—
p
erish the thought!—
h
ad that blasted potion impaired his mental capacities? If so, how should he neutralize the effects?

He tugged off her dress; then he eased her onto a chair. Her feet were so dainty, and he made a great show of removing her shoes, untying her garters, and rolling down her stockings. As with the negligee she donned when she was by herself, they were of a
f
ine-quality lace, but worn to nothing, with many holes lovingly repaired, and he wondered again about her mother.

Blithely continuing, he stripped her, and she weathered it well, murmuring and blushing, and he suffered the strangest sense of unreality, as if he were outside himself, and observing as another man seduced her. While he had many faults, he never dabbled with innocents. They weren't worth the trouble, not when there were so many licentious strumpets available. It was out of character for him, but he couldn't desist.

She'd afflicted him like a terrible malady, an illness in his blood that he couldn't shake and for which there was no cure. He was pathetic, stricken, doomed.

Once he'd disrobed her to her chemise, he ha
d
her stand, and he slid the straps down her arms, watching as the tattered garment slithered down.

At the sudden nudity, he'd presumed she'd balk, but

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she'd reached a conclusion about their relationship. She was anxious to transgress without being cajoled. What did her change of attitude portend? Was she growing fond? More than fond?

Oh, how he hoped she was! Throughout his life, he'd expended so much energy distancing himself from others that he could scarcely recall how to interact in a normal fashion. He wanted her to expect the best from him, to view him as a different man, a better man, from the one he actually was.

The chemise floated away, and confident and calm, she shucked out of it, as if her traipsing around so scandalously was a regular event.

"You're so beautiful, Kate." His appreciative gaze swept down her torso. She was perfectly formed, rounded where she should be, and flat where she should be, too. "Have I told you before?"

"No."

"Shame on me."

His body lurched to arousal, his cock heavy with the need to be pressed against her. With the pertness of her nipples, the auburn tuft between her legs, she taunted him to wickedness. He couldn't wait to touch her there, to taste her there.

Clutching her hand, he guided her into the tub, and she snuggled down, reveling in the heat.

"Ooh," she cooed, "what a luxury!"

"If I'd known I could get you to smile at me like that, over something as simple as a bath, I'd have offered it days ago."

"It's the sweetest gift you could have given me."

"Shall I scrub your hair?"

"It would take f
o
rever to dry."