Masque of Betrayal (6 page)

Dane chuckled. “That was gracious?”

“For Greta? Yes.”

Another silence.

Dane kept his hands purposefully by his sides. “The choice is yours, Jacqueline. May I join you … for breakfast?” he hastily added.

“I should say no.”

“But you’ll say yes?”

“Just coffee.”

“And conversation,” he reminded her with a twinkle.

“And conversation,” she conceded. She turned away quickly and preceded him into the dining room, trying not to recall the way his dark breeches hugged the contours of his body, accentuating the powerful muscles of his thighs, and the way his coat fit smoothly, but snugly, across his massive shoulders, the collar just brushing the silky edge of his raven-black hair. He was too handsome and charming for his own good … and hers. Not to mention that damned magnetism he emanated that intrigued her and unsettled her all at once, rendering her completely off-balance. It was a novel feeling … and one Jacqui did not welcome. However, she reminded herself, swatting Whiskey off the dining-room chair, she owed it to herself to determine exactly how much he
really
knew about her.

“How do you take your coffee, Mr. Westbrooke?”

“Dane,” he reiterated firmly. “And black.” He hadn’t missed Jacqui’s brief, but admiring, appraisal. The tantalizing Miss Holt was more interested than she wished to allow.

Jacqui gestured for Dane to sit, then handed him a cup of coffee and a plate with two of Greta’s mouthwatering strawberry tarts on it.

“Thank you.”

They ate quietly for a few minutes.

“How is it we never met before Friday?” Dane finally asked.

Jacqui delicately licked a crumb from her forefinger. “I was merely a substitute for my father’s”—she hesitated—“companion. Unfortunately, she fell ill and was unable to accompany Father to Secretary Hamilton’s gathering. Otherwise, I assure you, I would not have been there.” Seeing Dane’s amused, questioning look, she added, “I don’t attend many such parties, Mr. Westbrooke. I am not terribly fond of them.”

“Of parties in general, or only of those hosted by politicians whose views you do not share?”

“Parties of
any
kind,” she qualified, raising her chin in a defiant gesture that Dane was beginning to recognize. “Quite simply, I dislike being ogled and pawed.”

Dane’s lips twitched. “I see.” He leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. “Tell me what you
do
enjoy doing.”

Jacqui took a sip of coffee, regarding Dane cautiously over the rim of her cup. “Are you asking what my interests are?” she questioned carefully. “If so, I must warn you that they are not the conventional things you would expect.”

“From you I would never expect the conventional.”

“Very well.” She placed both hands flat on the table and leaned forward as if readying herself for verbal battle. “I like to read and I have an extensive library, filled mostly with the classics. I am also superb at both whist and chess.” She shot Dane a challenging look.

“All admirable pursuits,” he answered smoothly, refusing to be baited.

Jacqui smiled sweetly. “I am also fond of placing an occasional wager, if the horse in question seems promising enough.”

Dane swallowed a chuckle. “As am I.”

It was time to best Dane Westbrooke. “And I keep the ledgers for Holt Trading.”

Rather than looking appalled, as Jacqui had expected, Dane looked positively fascinated. “Now I
am
impressed. You are involved with your father’s business?”

“I am my father’s daughter, Mr. Westbrooke. The name of the company is
Holt
Trading, which is my name as well.”

“Your father is a very lucky man,” Dane said in a voice that was a husky caress. He covered her hand with his. “He has a daughter who is not only beautiful and captivating, but loyal and intelligent as well.”

Jacqui’s bewilderment showed on her face. It was not the compliment that confused her, for she had received many that were far more flowery. But they had all been delivered by men who, though handsome and effusive, wanted nothing more than to possess her and squelch her spirit. How then was she to deal with this charming rogue’s undisguised admiration, not only of her physical attributes, but of her mental ones as well? Oh, she was not naive enough to believe that she could trust him, nor that his intentions were honorable. He meant to seduce her; of that there was no doubt. But he seemed to want more … although what it was he wanted, she still didn’t know. She only knew that, whatever it was, he had not been put off by her revelations.

Staring down at their joined hands, Jacqui swallowed convulsively.

Dane Westbrooke might feel unthreatened. But Jacqui did not.

“Jacqueline is a beautiful name.” Dane began to stroke her fingers in a slow, circular motion. He watched her stare, entranced, at the movements of his hand, saw her breath coming a bit faster, and it took all his control not to stand up and drag her into his arms. “Your name is lyrical and captivating and elegant. It suits you.”

“It is French. My mother chose it.” Jacqui could barely concentrate past the heat of his touch.

Dane traced the smooth skin of her knuckles. “Your mother has excellent taste. Is she of French descent?” He raised his dark brows as a sudden thought occurred to him. “Was that the reason for your impassioned plea on France’s behalf last Friday?”

Jacqui shook her head.
“Au contraire, monsieur.
My mother was French Canadian … from Quebec. Her people were hardly sympathetic toward France. Even the English were preferable to them. No, sir, my beliefs are my own.”

“You said ‘was.’ Is your mother no longer alive?”

A shadow of sadness crossed her lovely face. “My mother died ten years ago,” she replied shortly.

“I’m sorry, Jacqueline.”

He sounded sorry, too, his deep, resonant voice filled with something curiously akin to compassion.

For the first time, Jacqui raised her eyes to Dane’s, wondering at his reaction and simultaneously hoping that, by focusing on anything but their joined hands, she could break the sensual spell he had cast. It was a mistake. The moment her hesitant gaze met the tenderness of his, the tingling sensation in her body intensified and a warm, heavy ache began deep inside her.

It spread like a narcotic, demanding control of her body, and she fought the feeling. Not because it was unpleasant, for, in truth, it was wildly exciting. But because it was overwhelming and left her vulnerable and unsure. She would tolerate neither.

“Come here.”

Dane’s fingers tightened on hers as he stood, and before Jacqui could even think to protest, he had drawn her against him, lifting her face so close to his that she could feel his breath on her lips, inhale his masculine scent.

“I’ve wanted to know the taste of your mouth from the first moment I saw you,” he murmured huskily, gliding his fingers through her hair.

Jacqui’s heart gave an involuntary leap.

“It’s what you want as well, Jacqueline.” He slid his hand beneath her heavy silken mane, lightly stroking the nape of her neck. Jacqui’s eyes slid closed and she made a soft sound of pleasure and protest, unconsciously leaning into his touch. “Tell me,” Dane commanded. She stared up at him slumberously, her eyes registering confusion and apprehension and untried sensuality. “I want to hear you say the words,” he whispered, tightening his grip in a definitive gesture. “This has to be both of us. Tell me this is where you want to be. In my arms. Against my body. With my mouth on yours. Jacqueline,” he breathed, running his hands across her shoulders, his thumbs skimming her throat where her pulse beat frantically, “tell me to kiss you. Tell me … and I will.”

Physical pleasure stormed Jacqui’s senses, the skin where he’d touched her alive and tingling. Exhilaration warred with uncertainty, and control was cast to the wind. She stared up at him helplessly, knowing, as the keen silver of his eyes darkened to a deep, smoky gray, that he understood exactly what was happening to her. And yet he waited. Breathing became difficult and speaking impossible.

“Jacqueline …” he whispered again.

“Yes …” she managed, unable to say more.

But Dane was relentless. “Yes … what?” He cradled her head in his hands, tugging her closer.

“Yes … kiss me.”

Her words were swallowed by his mouth as it covered hers, possessing her in a kiss that was unlike anything she had ever experienced, or even imagined. Dane molded his lips to hers, moving against her mouth with deliberate, insistent pressure until she parted her lips to the more intimate penetration of his tongue. He delved into the sweetness of her mouth with deep, rhythmic strokes, felt her small hands glide up his shirt and wrap around his neck, urging him closer. With a masculine sound of triumph, Dane enveloped her, crushed her to him, until she was surrounded by the hard wall of his chest and the powerful strength of his arms. His mouth slanted across hers again and again, branding her, seducing her, demanding that she do more than merely receive his kiss, but that she respond to it with a fervor that matched his own.

Jacqui gave him what he wanted.

She returned his kiss with a newly born passion that astonished her, accepting the lusty strokes of his tongue and giving him her own.

The kiss blazed out of control.

With a low groan of need, Dane lifted Jacqui from the floor, fitting her against the full length of him and tightening his hold so that she could feel every hardened contour of his aroused body. He wanted her. More than even he had known. More than he wanted his next breath. More than he could bear … he wanted this woman.

For Jacqui, the world and everything in it faded into nonreality, as she allowed her yearnings free rein, reveling in the first-time experience of pure, potent physical desire. She threw herself into it with the same utter abandon that she did each of life’s adventures … totally and without inhibition, thrilling to the sensual awakening. The discovery in itself was enthralling.

For Dane, it was not nearly enough.

His hands roved restlessly over her back, finding the buttons that separated him from the promise of beauty beneath. His control was fast evaporating, fueled by her wildly exhilarating response. The taste of her mouth, the feel of her in his arms, was intoxicating enough, but the way she pressed her soft, lush body against his, returning his openmouthed kisses with an innocent, unrestrained ardor, was more than he could withstand. Her passion rivaled his, but he knew that she lacked the experience to control it. It was up to him, and he was fast approaching the point of insanity. In mere seconds he was going to carry her to her room and make love to her until neither of them could move. Hell, he thought, inhaling her perfume, he would take her right here, right now, were he not certain that it was her first time.

Her first time.

That intrusive thought forced reason to return in a rush.

Dane raised his head, his chest heaving with the strain of slowing himself, and stared down at her with eyes still burning with hunger. “Jacqueline.”

Her lids fluttered, then lifted, and she stared up at him, still in the throes of dazzling sensation. Her midnight eyes were dazed and far away, and she blinked, trying to understand the reason for Dane’s abrupt withdrawal.

Seeing the honest play of emotions flash across her beautiful, flushed face, Dane experienced a queer surge of feeling in his chest. With aching restraint, he lowered her to the floor, cupping her face tenderly between his shaking palms. “I know, sweetheart. But not now … not this way. For you, it has to be perfect.”

Reality descended upon Jacqui with a resounding crash.

She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks, her breath coming in short pants, her lips still throbbing from his consuming kisses. “Oh … my.” She inhaled sharply. “I can’t believe I just …”

Dane covered her hands with his. “No, Jacqueline,
you
didn’t just.
We
did.” His eyes twinkled, despite the insistent throbbing in his loins. “In fact, we would have done more than
just
if your charming Greta were not in the kitchen.”

Jacqui gasped and glanced over her shoulder. “Greta! Oh, Lord.” She closed her eyes, mortified … then enraged by her behavior. When her lids lifted, Dane immediately saw the warning lights that glittered at him.

“Am I to be slapped again?” he asked, grinning. “I have not yet recovered from your first assault.”

“What is it you want of me, Mr. Westbrooke?”

Dane chuckled at the belated formality. “To begin with, I want to hear you use my given name. Surely, that is not too much to ask after the intimacy we shared?”

Jacqui flushed anew. “Very well … Dane. But you have not answered my question.”

Dane was stunned by the impact of simply hearing his name on her lips. “What question, sweet?” He was already impatient for the next time, the right time, the time when he would actually make love to her, make her his. His body throbbed its agreement.

“What do you want of me?” she repeated, trying to disengage herself from his embrace.

“I believe that is obvious, Jacqueline.” He refused to release her. “I want you.”

“But I
don’t
want you,” she said, raising her chin defiantly, knowing, even as she spoke, that, in light of the past five minutes, her statement was absurd.

Dane’s lips twitched. “I am sorry to hear that, love. But I’d like the chance to change your mind.”

Before she could reply, he bent his head and kissed her again. But this kiss was totally unlike the first. Soft, coaxing, teasingly light, it was a butterfly caress against Jacqui’s feverish mouth, over as quickly as it had begun.

Jacqui clutched his arms.

“Let’s finish our coffee, sweet,” Dane suggested mildly, releasing her only when he was certain she could stand by herself. “And our conversation,” he added in a teasing tone.

How could the man turn his passions on and off like that? Jacqui wondered dazedly, lowering herself into her chair.

“Are you all right?” Dane’s gentle question reinforced her observation … and her annoyance. If he could have such blasted self-control, then so could she.

“I am fine, Mr. Westbrooke. Dane,” she amended, seeing the amused lift of his brows. “I assure you, I am not so fragile as to shatter from a single kiss.”