Undone (25 page)

She gave a nod. “On a frequent basis,” she added, in case the point was lost on him.

His mouth fell agape before he clamped it shut and began to pace. “Do not do this. Don’t expect that I can be the strong one for both of us on
this
…”

She tried not to smile, despite herself. He looked incredibly adorable in his flustered state. She was willing to wager that few people had ever managed to rattle him so.

“I’m a grown woman. I am quite capable of making my own decisions. I don’t need you to be a self-appointed protector of my virtue.”

He arrested his steps. Jabbing his index finger into his chest, he said, “I have been trying not to complicate your life.”

“Good, because what I propose is quite simple.”

“It is not simple!” He rested his hands on his hips and let out a breath. In a more rational voice, he said, “Do you understand what it is I do with women? I do not woo them. Or marry them. I am simply there to…”

“Bed them?” she added for him when he hesitated.

“Yes! Sex. For mutual pleasure. I’m not Domenico or Jules. A sexual relationship with me will not result in marriage, for many reasons,
chère
, not the least of which is our different social class.”

Thanks to her circumstances, her past, she’d come to believe that the prospect of marriage had been permanently removed from her future. Her days were to have been spent in a convent. Alone. She never imagined meeting a man and falling in love. But now she had.

She wanted a lifetime with him. There was no reason her station of birth, void of any meaning for her, should pose an obstacle.

“What I seek is to grab hold of whatever bliss life offers me. You taught me that.” She held back her tender feelings. Given his state, hearing such sentiment would no doubt send him bolting from the schoolhouse. She needed time with him, wanted some uninterrupted special time before she would voice the words that burned inside her.

Her plan was simple. If she claimed his body as her own, perhaps, just perhaps, his heart would follow close behind. He was worth the effort. And the risk to her heart.

Whatever the outcome, she was determined to seize the chance to be with the man she loved. If in the end everything crumbled, she would at the very least have the memory of the time she had with him to cherish.

He sat down on the edge of the desk and quietly studied her with those knee-weakening blue eyes.

Smiling, she walked up to him and caressed his cheek, then rested her palm against it. There was undeniable interest in his eyes, no matter how much he foolishly protested.

She leaned into him. “Don’t hold back your desire, Simon. There is no reason to. It is not what either of us wants.” She brushed her lips along his jaw, to his neck. Drawing on his warm skin, she gave him a gentle suck, delighting in his soft groan. His heart rate quickened beneath her lips. But the stubborn man pulled back, despite the heated effect she had on him.

Reaching up, he removed her hand from his cheek and held it between his warm palms, lightly caressing it with his thumb.

“I must return to France,” he said, his eyes full of regret.

Her stomach dropped. “When?”

“In a few weeks, a month at the most.”

“I see.” She tried to hide her overwhelming disappointment. And her fear. She’d only have a few weeks to forge something permanent with him.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be there before I can return.”

If he was to leave soon, then she was even more determined not to lose out on this opportunity.

“Simon, you have said a fire burns between us. Why not bask in it until it’s completely extinguished. Or until you leave—whichever comes first.”

He wouldn’t leave unaffected.

Without a word, he hauled her up against him, and crushed his mouth to hers, taking her by surprise. Every nerve ending sparked to life. He drove his tongue into her mouth, muting her moan. Her pulse raced. Liquid heat coursed through her veins. And the bud between her legs began to throb, hard and heavy, along with her heart. She wove her fingers into his soft, cool hair, reveling in the delicious desire rushing through her. His hands gripped her bottom and ground her against the hard bulge in his breeches, applying the most perfect pressure on her sensitive clit. Practically buckled her knees.

“All right,” he murmured against her mouth. “If this is what you want, I agree.” Her heart leaped with joy. “You’re going to let me have at your sweet, snug sex anytime I want.” His lips brushed that tantalizing spot under her ear. Her belly fluttered. “And in turn, I’ll be your most ardent lover…make you come for me. Hard. And often.” He drew on her neck. She lost her breath, a fresh surge of raw hunger swamping her senses. “Agreed?” he asked.

“Yes. Agreed.”

“Good.” She heard the smile in his tone. He bit her earlobe, tearing another gasp from her throat. “Damn the celebration… I could be inside of you right now…”

Being in his arms was like being caught in a storm, overwhelming and obliterating. She’d completely forgotten about the celebration. He was expected to be there at the formal commencement of the feast.

Reluctantly, she stepped back. Placing a hand on his chest, she fought to reclaim a semblance of rational composure, trying to calm the urgency pounding in her blood. “You should go. They await you.”

Simon let out a breath. “Give me a moment.”
Jésus-Christ
, her proposition had taken him completely by surprise. He should have refused. But she had made him an offer not even a monk could turn down.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the lush vision she made, trying to ignore, with little success, the discomfort of his erection, thick, full.

“Nine hundred ninety-three,” he muttered. “Nine hundred eighty-six…”

“What are you doing?”

Keeping his eyes closed, knowing that looking at her would only be counterproductive, he said, “I am counting backwards from one thousand by sevens. And you have made me lose my spot.”

“Why?”

He snapped open his eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed,
chère
, you have me stiff as a spike. I am trying to combat my rather…
amorous state
.”

“Oh…” Her cheeks flushed sweetly. “Nine hundred seventy-nine.”

“Pardon?”

“That is your next number.” She bit her lip, trying to conceal a smile.

He felt a smile tug at his lips too. They both burst into laughter. Some of the tension left his body.

It gave him such delight to see her laugh.

“If your method is unsuccessful,” she said, “you could try reciting the Greek alphabet.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you derive amusement from my miserable state.”

She attempted to look contrite. “I’m sorry for your miserable state.”

“Oh?” He stood up, sporting a mischievous grin, and slowly advanced on her. “How sorry?”

She took a playful step back. “Very. I shall make it up to you. I promise.”

He took another step toward her, caught up in her playfulness. “When?”

She took another step back. “After the feast.”

He groaned. That seemed like forever. He advanced. “
How?
”

She backed into the wall. Her smile faded. Her beautiful eyes darkened with desire. “Any way you wish…as long as it includes more kissing.”

He stopped in front of her, grinning. “I believe I can live with those conditions,” he said, enjoying himself. He ran his finger gingerly over the gentle swell of her breasts, following the contour of her scooped neckline. He heard her breath catch.

His ability to resist her was nominal at best. He didn’t have it in him to fight the temptation that was Angelica de Castel anymore. It was too strong. Nothing he did seemed to lessen his need for her or shatter the enchantment.

Clearly, he was on dangerous ground.

She was a noble. For someone of his social standing, she was forbidden fruit. He prayed that this fascination he had with her would eventually diminish.

He had to hold their relationship to sex and sex alone. This inexplicable allurement had to end. No matter how incredible it felt when he was with her, he had no choice but to cling to what was best. What was best was that by the time he returned to France, the flame of their desire would have burned out. And that he would have lost, by that time, all the invading emotions constricting his heart.

It was the only acceptable outcome. For both of them.

His plan was simple. To enjoy each other fully, extensively, with the goal in mind to cool the passion between them that at the moment was scorching hot. In this he couldn’t fail. Because there was no future for them. Not for the son of a commoner and the daughter of a count.

“You will make this up to me.” He smiled and took hold of her hand. Pressing a kiss to it, he added, “In my chamber later tonight.” Still holding her hand, he opened the door and stepped outside. “Let’s join the feast.” Walking briskly toward the merrymaking, he glanced back at the siren of his fantasies. “Eat quickly.”

Chapter Eighteen

Some distance away, the rest of the island continued with the celebration, but in the privacy of Simon’s chamber, Angelica watched as he closed the door.

They were finally alone.

Anticipation gripped her.

Conscious of her cold fingers, she clasped her hands together, trying to warm them. One hand was warmer than the other. It was the hand he’d held as he led her up the stairs to his room.

She took in a quiet breath and let it out slowly, trying to ignore her pounding heart.

He watched her from the door, his head slightly cocked. Strands of dark hair rested on one perfect ebony brow, creating such dramatic contrast with his light blue eyes. He was far too handsome. Far too confident. And he had a way of drawing her to him, heart, body, and soul.

Dear God, had she set herself up for inevitable heartache? How realistic was it to hope that over the next few weeks he would fully engage his heart? What if he held her at arm’s length emotionally the entire month? In all the time she’d known him, he’d offered her little personal information. He was even better at keeping secrets and distance than she had been.

She forced back the doubts. He would be all hers for the next few weeks. It was inevitable that they would grow closer. But would she be able to get close enough to claim his heart?

He smiled and slowly advanced. Her stomach fluttered.

His presence beside her during the feast had made it impossible for her to eat. The occasional brush of his thigh, the heat of his regard, and the intermittent caress of his hand on her arm had kept her senses on alert and her body quivering in anticipation for what would follow the meal.

And now he was looking at her with the same desire that had been in his eyes all evening.

He stopped before her, their bodies all but touching.

With a gentle stroke of his fingers over her shoulder, he picked up one of her cascading tresses. Silently, he studied it as it curled naturally around his finger. Looking into her eyes, he brushed the lock of her hair against his lips.

She shivered.

“Are you cold?” His voice was low and soft in the stillness of the room.

“No.” His closeness made her hot from the inside out.

“Are you afraid? Do you think I will devour you?” he gently teased.

She knew he was trying to make her smile, to ease her nerves. It only made her love and want him more.

“No, I’m not afraid,” she said with a small smile, “nor do I think you will devour me.”

“Good, because I don’t devour women until after midnight.”

A laugh escaped her. “Then I am safe for a few more hours.”

“Precisely.” He grinned, releasing her curl.

She glanced over at his bed, noticing the details of his chamber for the first time. It was decorated with wall coverings in various shades of blue, woven rugs on the floor, and a large four-poster bed with deep-blue drapery. It was elegant, serene, and tasteful.

Why was she not surprised? His birth may have been in the common class, but there was nothing common about him. This very chamber was a perfect reflection of him—a man who had achieved success yet wasn’t ostentatious. It exemplified what courage and determination could bring.

Inspired by his example, she too was unwilling to accept what fate had offered and was extending her hand to reach for more.

“Would you like me to lie down on the bed?” Mentally she cringed, mortified at her artless words. The nervous excitement, rampant inside her, was as distracting as he was.

His smile was unwavering. “No.” He slipped his fingers beneath her chin. “All I want you to do at the moment is to relax. The night is young,
mon ange
. There is no need to rush.”

Again he’d called her
my angel
. And it sounded sublime, soothing over her embarrassment.

Taking her hands, he drew her arms around his waist, then circled his arms around her. She pressed herself a little closer, drawn to his wonderful scent and the divine feel of his hard body against hers. She never felt more alive than when she was with him.

“We’ve done this before,” he reminded her. “We will only do that which pleases us both. I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She looked up at him. “I know.”
I love you…
“I trust you.”

The look on his face told her that her answer pleased him.

“Simon, I want you to treat me no differently in bed than you would any other woman.”

He placed a soft stirring kiss at the corner of her mouth. “I’ve not been able to treat you the same as other women yet.” His words and sensuous voice played havoc with her senses.

Gracious God…He was too good at this…

“You didn’t eat this evening at the feast. I had Assunta leave early to lay out some food here in my chamber. Are you hungry?”

Food was the last thing on her mind. “No. All I want right now is you…” Threading her fingers through his hair, she pulled his head down.

The moment their mouths met, a rush of arousal flooded her body. She laced her arms around his neck, and deepened her kiss, drawing his tongue into her mouth. His groan thrilled her. She told him with her kiss what she couldn’t—wouldn’t—say at the moment: how much she needed, wanted, and loved him.