Ruined by Moonlight (6 page)

“Why?”

“I suppose because it is rather exhilarating as a sport and challenging as an owner, and—”

“No. I was asking why you had to admit it. Is there some reason you wouldn’t enjoy the excitement of the races or the triumph of having one of your own horses compete against champion bloodstock and win?”

He had absolutely no idea how to respond to the direct challenge in her gaze…except, perhaps, honestly. Discussing his feelings was not his normal behavior, so he weighed his response for a moment with due measure.
“No. Obviously not. I simply meant that it isn’t precisely a cerebral exercise, but more one of primal emotion…the race, the wind, the final victory, and that is not how I usually see life.”

“I agree. It isn’t.” His wife gifted him then with a compelling smile. “Now,” she said in a low whisper, “we are finally getting somewhere.”

It was rather difficult to imagine someone as detached and sophisticated as her husband to give up his inner thoughts easily, and Alicia had already come to that conclusion, hence her extreme strategy.

Even now while he still just stood there, his eyes were watchful and his tall body noticeably tense.

Good. She wasn’t particularly skilled at it but she’d exacted some sort of response, and the disclosure he’d just made was one of the first truly personal revelations he’d given her in six months of marriage.

It was a start.

“Somewhere? I am not sure the journey is one I wish to take.” His voice was wry. “Alicia, I am getting undressed and ready to go to sleep, and you’ve made it clear I must bring you a posy or write a bit of doggerel for you to wish my attentions. I don’t have either at hand. Perhaps you should return to your bed and your book.”

At no point had she ever said she didn’t want his attentions. She simply wanted them to be a bit different. Or maybe a great deal more different. The problem was she had no idea what that ideal was exactly, but definitely something more romantic than his previous obligatory visits to her bed.

“I never asked for flowers or poetry,” she informed him, her voice quiet.

“No? You see how much at a loss I am as to what you
do
want?”

More personal confidences would be welcome, but this evening had already showed some promise. At the same time he was resistant to the change in their relationship, which was no surprise. Before he’d had it entirely his way.

She was going to have to seduce him on an emotional level and she had absolutely no notion how to go about it.

Though it
was
helpful he was even more remarkably attractive with a glimpse of his bare chest showing through the gap in his shirt. She was much more used to seeing him formally dressed, and those nights when he did come to her, Benjamin usually shed his dressing gown after the lights were out. She knew him in a carnal way but it was only in tactile sensation, and the scent of his skin, and the exhale of his breath in the dark.

He touched her but he didn’t
touch
her.

How to explain the difference was beyond her at the moment. She knew her husband was keenly intelligent but she wasn’t at all positive he would understand how
she
saw it.

Particularly since she was distracted anyway by that tantalizing V of bared skin. It was rather startling to realize just how little she really knew about his body. “By all means, do not let my presence stop you from your evening routine.”

And she boldly selected a chair, settling into it, seemingly nonchalant, though her pulse was racing and the bravado entirely false.

“You wish to watch me disrobe?” There was no mistaking the dangerous edge to his voice.

“I am…curious.”

Not for the first time he looked at her as if she’d gone mad, so in explanation she said, “It has always been dark.”

“I thought women preferred it that way.” His eyes held a slight glitter. “And that I was expected to protect your delicate sensibilities.”

“What you are really saying is that you thought a proper wife would prefer it that way,” she corrected, doing her best to relax her arms on the sides of the chair as if she lounged in her dressing gown in his bedroom often and was comfortable with it. Alicia casually crossed her ankles. “Maybe I am not all that proper. Please proceed. Take off your clothes.”

“If you wish, but I warn you,” he said with an almost lethal softness, his fingers going to the buttons on his shirt, “if we are playing a game here, I don’t know the rules and therefore might not follow them to your liking.”

“It isn’t a game,” she responded, her gaze fastened on his bared torso as he tugged the hem of his shirt free from his breeches. “I am quite serious.”

“Yes, you appear to be.”

She chose to ignore the dryness in his tone, fascinated by the masculine contours of skin and bone, the ripple of muscle impressive as he tossed his shirt aside. The term
beautiful
was not usually applied to men but she thought it appropriate for
this
man. A flush touched her skin as he began to unfasten his breeches, and the way his mouth quirked upward in one corner she rather thought he somehow knew it.

It made her wonder once again about the women in his past, but that unsettling thought was banished as he
stripped out of his breeches and, splendidly nude, stood there looking at her with inscrutable directness. “Be sure to let me know when your curiosity is satisfied, madam.”

Never,
she almost said, because she had the feeling that Ben might take a lifetime to truly know. At the moment she knew he was referring to that part of him that made him male. Not currently the hard length she had experienced moving inside her, but still rather large, though she was hardly a judge. Less than brilliantly, she said, “Oh.”

“Surely you’ve seen drawings and statues. We are all basically the same. Now, then. Shall I put on my dressing gown, or would you care to join me in the bed, where it would be my pleasure to give you a firsthand demonstration of the delightful differences in our anatomy?”

The suggestion caused the telltale flush to deepen and a flutter in her stomach, but she hesitated to give in so easily and she doubted his claim all men were alike. Surely not all of them were so devastatingly attractive.

“You came into my bedchamber.” Ben took a step toward her, his hazel eyes veiled. “And today I have walked a garden.”

Alicia felt a flicker…of what? Panic or anticipation? He looked taller than usual and his nudity was a bit overwhelming, so perhaps a combination of both.

But her intention was for him to realize that just because she was his wife and therefore available to him under the traditional concept of marriage, she needed more and was willing to fight to get it. Today was just the start of a journey and she wanted him to see just how determined she was to see it through to the end. She rose and shook her head. “It was a nice beginning, my lord, but I meant what I said this afternoon. I do not wish for
us to lie together again until we are husband and wife more than just in name.”

His jaw hardened as he halted in the act of taking another step, and then he turned to pick up his dressing gown and shrugged into it. “Very well, madam. Have it your own way. May I ask that from now on you not enter my bedchamber and ask me to disrobe if you do not have the intention of sharing my bed.”

“I’ve never shared your bed,” she pointed out, which was true. He had always come to hers. And left it. Not once had he slept with her all night. “And I didn’t come to ask you to disrobe; you just happened to be undressing. I came to say good night. We rarely do. There are days when you are so consumed with your horses and business affairs that I do not see you at all, and if we do not go out together in the evening, we don’t even exchange a word. I thought it would be nice if we at least said good night to one another without fail.”

“
I
am beginning to come to the conclusion perhaps it would better if you did not spend so much time thinking,” he muttered, tying the sash on his robe around his lean waist with a firm jerk.

She suppressed a laugh that she was sure he would not appreciate at his disgruntled tone. “I am not asking for jewels or a new carriage or a trip to the modiste at your expense. What I am asking is quite simple and would please me very much.”

It took a moment but then he inclined his head. “If it is so important I will make the effort. Good night, then.”

Another victory. Small, but it was progress. Alicia walked toward the connecting door between their rooms. “Good night, my lord. I hope you sleep well,” she said, and pulled it closed behind her.

Day Two

T
he lamp had guttered out sometime during the night and it was dark when Ran came awake to the familiar feel of a woman, soft and warm, next to him. She was still asleep, her breathing quiet and even, and his arm was draped around her waist, her shapely bottom pressed against his groin, the silk of her hair under his cheek.

Then he remembered.

Kidnapped.

Held at gunpoint.

Lady Elena slumbered on as he gave an inward groan. No doubt habit had asserted itself and he vaguely recalled rolling over, encountering a delectable female body, and instinctively pulling her close before drifting back off.

Old habits, it seemed, truly were hard to shake. The trouble was how to extract himself without waking her and making her aware of the transgression, albeit not an intentional one.

When the same two servants and the guard came back for the dinner dishes, they had brought hot water for the hip
bath behind the screen. Though a request for their clothes to be returned had been ignored, they had been granted another candle since his speculation that the room would be pitch-dark soon was accurate. Lady Elena had bathed first and he’d followed, noting wryly that he’d not been given a razor, which was frustrating, as he hated a beard. It was odd how they’d used the same soap, but the scent from her skin was different, sweet and floral and feminine.

Arousing. He was hardening already, his cock stiffening in a basic response to the equation of bed, half-naked woman, and their closeness.

Her breasts were cushioned against his encircling arm, the firm weight of that resilient flesh enticing, which was
not
what he needed, and as his hand was flattened on her rib cage, all it would take was a slight movement and he could easily cradle one mound in his palm.

As quickly as that treacherous thought came he banished it. Not only had he given his word but the beautiful—and very marriageable—daughter of an earl was the last woman he’d attempt to seduce.

But it appeared someone had plotted for him to make that very mistake. A picture had begun to form in his mind to what the purpose of all this might be. He had lain awake long after she’d fallen asleep and contemplated their plight with as much detachment as possible and there seemed to be several inescapable truths.

They didn’t seem to be in physical danger but just held together against their will. One bed, and no other entertainment to pass the time but each other? Was it intended that he persuade her to spend that time in the way men and women had been entertaining each other since the beginning of the human race?

Yes.

If nothing else, the combination of his reputation and her dazzling beauty had led him to that conclusion.

She stirred then, just a slight sigh and a restive shift of her body. Ran took the opportunity to move also, carefully easing his arm away and edging back enough that they were no longer touching, and propping himself on one elbow. He should probably leave the bed, but the room held a slight chill and it wasn’t as if he had anywhere else in particular to go.

It must have been close to dawn, for there was enough jeweled light he could watch her wake. The slight parting of her soft lips, the flutter of her long lashes, the quiver of her fingers near her cheek; if he’d really been her lover he might have smoothed back a loose tendril of hair from the curve of her slender shoulder.…

But he wasn’t. He was instead a practical and worldly man, and even though Whitbridge’s daughter claimed innocence in how they’d come to be in their current circumstances—and he was tempted to believe her—that didn’t mean the situation was if not
caused
by her, still
because
of her.

For instance, if she needed a father for a child she carried, no one would believe him if he declined to accept responsibility. The accusation alone would not be enough to force his hand, for he also had wealth and power, but if the plan was for them to be found together, his choices would be limited. Just by sharing the bed he’d essentially compromised her.

Elena’s eyes opened and though it was hard to read the expression on her face, he sensed it was momentary confusion by the swift way she glanced around and sat up, her long hair trailing in a mass of silken curls down her back.

“Good morning,” he said ironically. “Or I assume it is morning by the way the window is beginning to glow.”

“It wasn’t a dream.” Her voice was still subdued with sleep and unflatteringly disappointed.

As he’d had a similar reaction, he could hardly fault her. “I am afraid not.”

She unnecessarily gathered up the sheet and modestly tugged it up to her neck, apparently unaware he really could hardly see her in the dim lighting, and the evening before he’d committed it all quite nicely to memory anyway. He’d always had a penchant for voluptuous beauties, but her slenderness accented the curves of both breast and hip, and while
voluptuous
didn’t apply, she was alluring and feminine—and all too close for comfort.

The lovely Elena brushed back her hair, her sigh heartfelt. “It is rather incomprehensible. I was hoping to awaken elsewhere.”

“Yes.”
Incomprehensible
. Both their plight and that he’d spent the night with her in his arms. “I agree.”

He slid out of the bed, wincing as his bare feet hit the cold floor, and headed for the screen. He took care of relieving himself and rinsed his hands in the now-cool water, wondering just how he could keep from going mad if he had to stay locked in this room all day again. When he emerged Lady Elena was untangling her hair with her fingers, and her eyes looked huge in the lessening gloom. She said, “Surely by now my parents are beside themselves.”