Stephanie Laurens - A Lady of His Own

Thinking back, she wasn’t sure what she’d thought he’d thought; at the time, she’d been so caught up in her own reactions, her intense disappointment, the dashing of her naive expectations-the shattering of her heart as she’d then thought-that beyond knowing that he knew he’d upset her, she hadn’t stopped to consider what he’d seen as the reason why.

He’d thought she’d been upset because of the pain!

She hauled in a huge breath, and swung to pace back to him.

Given he had, he was patently suffering from a burgeoning case of guilt, to which he was not entitled, and through that developing a sense of responsibility over her life, to which he was even less entitled.

Responsibility had always been a strong motivator for him, witness his devotion to his family and his country. If she didn’t act quickly to correct his thinking and dissolve any responsibility he was nurturing toward her life, they would shortly find themselves in a hideous state. He would try to make amends, she would refuse, her conscience would prick while her independence would kick, and he’d become ever more subbornly determined to put right his perceived wrong…it would end in animosity if not outright war, and that she definitely didn’t deserve or need. Neither did he.

She had to correct his understanding of the past, but without revealing the truth of why he’d hurt her.

Folding her arms, she lifted her head, and halted directly before him. “Very well.” She met his eyes. “As you’re so determined to revisit our past, let’s do so, but let’s get the facts correct. Thirteen years ago, I decided we should make love. Yes, you’d wanted me for years, but you wouldn’t even have suggested such a thing-I plotted and planned to meet you out riding, to inveigle you into the barn. Everything that happened that day happened because I wished it to.”

“You didn’t know how much it would hurt.”

“True.” She tightened her grip on her arms, and tried not to think about boxing his ears; he was so damned male. Holding his gaze, she went on, “However, I did know I was a virgin, and you”-she managed not to glance down-“were you. I wasn’t so ignorant I didn’t expect the experience to be attended by some degree of pain.”

“A considerable degree of pain.” His jaw was so clenched she was surprised it didn’t crack.

She shrugged, deliberately dismissive. “However one measures pain.” It had been more than she’d expected, but that hadn’t been what had hurt. “Regardless, it didn’t scar or scare me-I can assure you of that.”

His eyes remained narrowed, boring into hers. “You were hurt, upset-you almost cried.” He knew she rarely did. “If it wasn’t the pain, then what the hell was it?”

When she didn’t answer, he spread his arms wide. “For God’s sake-what did I do?”

The torment in his eyes-something he wouldn’t have felt let alone shown years ago-stopped her breath, stopped her from ripping back at him.

Lips compressing, she held his dark gaze. She couldn’t tell him the truth. If he ever learned she’d loved him…given their present situations, he might well press for marriage. He’d see it as an honorable obligation on the one hand and a suitable alliance for them both. And it would be suitable on many levels, except one.

She loved him still, and having to marry him knowing he didn’t love her would, for her, be hell on earth. She’d rejected her other suitors because they hadn’t loved her, and she hadn’t loved them. Now, after all her years of dogged independence, of refusing to marry without the love she craved, to be pressured to marry Charles of all men, and very possibly jockeyed into it…

Her eyes steady on his, she quietly said, “It wasn’t anything you did.”

Charles read her eyes, confirmed she was telling the truth. Confusion swamped him. After all these years, he was still at sea; he hadn’t understood then, and nothing had changed.

Except, perhaps, his persistence; this time he wasn’t going to play the gentleman and let her fob him off. Lowering his arms, he searched her eyes, casting about for some other approach, some other way to draw an explanation of what he didn’t know, and now desperately wanted and needed to know, from her.

Eventually, he quietly, evenly, said, “You haven’t answered my question.”

Penny blinked, thought back, fleetingly gave thanks as her temper sparked. She refocused on his eyes, studied them, narrowed hers. “What are you thinking? That what happened in the barn that day blighted my life?”

“Can you swear to me that what happened that day hasn’t stopped you from being with other men?”

“Yes!” As belligerent as he was relentless, she faced him down. “I swear on my mother’s grave that the events of that day in no way influenced my decisions regarding my suitors. Or any of the others who offered to seduce me.” Her temper soared. “You are so damned arrogant! It might interest you to know that sex and men don’t rule my life-I do. I decide what I want and what I don’t. Unlike you, I don’t need sex on a regular basis to be happy!”

Charles couldn’t remember when last he’d dined at that particular table; he clenched his jaw and held back a retort.

She glared at him, then gestured dismissively and swung away. “If you insist on feeling guilty for causing me pain that day, then do so, but don’t you dare presume to assume responsibility for any other part of my life. My decisions were and are mine to make, my life is and always has been my own.” She paced back, met his eyes, lifted her chin. “ I decide who I’ll let seduce me.”

He held her gaze for a heartbeat, then reached for her, pulled her to him, and kissed her.

As always, desire leapt to instant life; between them, the flames whooshed, then roared. Penny knew what he was doing, what track his mind had taken; so be it. She relaxed into the kiss, gave him back fire for flame; pointless to attempt to do otherwise.

He broke the kiss. Lifted his head just enough to look into her eyes. “Why, then? You’ll let me seduce you-”

She opened her lips.

Brusquely, he shook his head. “Don’t bother pretending-we both know you will. You’ll let me, but not any other man. All those years ago, you wanted me to seduce you, you encouraged me-and yes, I remember every tantalizing, fraught, uncertain minute. And now…” His gaze was so hard, so sharp, she wondered he couldn’t cut through and see her soul. “Now you’ll be with me, but not any other man. Why?”

Because, God help her, she loved him still. It took a moment for her wits to formulate a useful answer; she didn’t rush them. Drawing a breath restricted by their embrace, she didn’t try to escape his gaze, but calmly held it. “I told you. I decide who I’ll admit to my bed. Those others-none of them interested me sufficiently to warrant an invitation. Apparently I’m exceedingly fussy. You, I issued an invitation to years ago, and for some reason and certainly against my better judgment, the grounds on which I made that decision still appear to be valid.”

Something leapt behind the dark blue screens of his eyes; her breath was suddenly even shorter.

“Be that as it may…” Eyes locked on his, increasingly watchful, she tried to ease back, out of his hold, but his arms gave not an inch. “You shouldn’t presume on that previous invitation, not after all these years.”

As always with her, Charles felt…not quite in control. “Forget your previous invitation.” He bent his head, brushed her lips-just enough to refocus her attention on what was, still, burning between them. “Issue another.”

His voice had lowered of its own accord. He watched, following the battle within her, between physical desire on the one hand and a desire to escape it on the other. She distrusted getting caught, enmeshed in physical desire-and he was the only man capable of weaving a web strong enough to hold her; in that instant, he saw that much clearly.

It only led to the next Why?

Her palms on his chest, she tried to push back. “Your mission. You’re supposed to be keeping watch, remember?”

“I haven’t forgotten.” He had no intention of letting her escape, her desire, his, or the strands they wove together. “If anyone comes driving or riding up, I’ll hear them. If Nicholas sends to the stables, I’ll hear that, too.”

“What if he goes out walking?”

“He can’t leave the house without walking on gravel-I’ll hear him.”

“He might creep out.”

“Why? He doesn’t know we’re here watching.”

She looked at him, thought, frowned.

He smiled, blatantly intent. “That’s check-”

“Wait!” She was starting to panic. “What about the reason you insisted I come home to Wallingham? It was so you wouldn’t seduce me-remember?”

His smile deepened. “So I wouldn’t seduce you under my own roof.”

Her jaw fell. “Your own…?”

“There are a few elements of honor not even I will compromise-that’s one of them.”

When she simply stared, dumbfounded, he lowered his head. “And mate.”

HE INTENDED TO DO PRECISELY THAT, WITH HER, AS SOON as possible. For now, however…he kissed her. For now it was enough that he had her in his arms, that regardless of all else he’d secured his second chance. He still had the twin mysteries of what had upset her years ago and why she’d turned her back on marriage to solve, but it was difficult to think when she was in his arms, her lips soft and pliant beneath his.

She held aloof at first, not resisting yet not actively participating, her attitude more in the nature of a sulk. He enjoyed teasing her from it, holding her lightly while tempting her with slow, sultry kisses, until she sighed, softened, and offered him her mouth.