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Lady Beneath the Veil(6)

By:Sarah Mallory


'We are in a pickle, my dear.' He sat down beside her again. 'I lost my  temper and I apologise for it. If we had remained at Martlesham  everything would have been so much simpler.'

'You were very angry, I understand that, and I beg your pardon for my part in it.'

The corners of his mouth lifted a little. He said ruefully, 'It is the  red hair. When the angry mist descends I am not responsible for my  actions.'

A smile of understanding tugged at her own mouth.

'My hair is not red, but I have a temper, too, at times.'

'Your Latin temperament, perhaps.'

'Yes.'

* * *

There was a shy smile in her green eyes, and Gideon was pleased to note  the anxious frown no longer creased her brow. She looked so much better  when her countenance was not strained and pinched with worry. A soft  blush was mantling her cheek as she went to the sideboard to put down  her empty glass. Gideon noted the way the walking dress clung to her  figure, accentuating the slender waist, the sway of her hips. As she  returned he could appreciate the curve and swell of her breasts rising  from the bodice of her gown. She was no ripe beauty, but he would wager  that beneath that mannish outfit was a rather delectable body. He  remembered standing behind her earlier, breathing in her fragrance and  felt a flicker of interest-of desire-stir his blood.

As if aware of his thoughts she chose to sit in the armchair beside the fire. Gideon cleared his throat.

'I believe there is a gig in the stables. When it is light I shall  drive you to Swaffham, and from there we will hire a post-chaise to take  us back to Martlesham.'

'Not the Abbey,' she said quickly. 'Will you please set me down in the village, at my mother's cottage?'

He shrugged. 'If you wish.' A sudden thud on the ceiling made them both  look up. 'But first we have to get through this evening.'

The port had had its effect. Dominique knew now what she must do.

'I shall remain down here,' she announced, sitting very straight and upright in her chair. 'You may have the bedroom.'

'Nonsense. I have already said I shall sleep on the sofa.'

She put up her chin. 'I have made up my mind.'

'Then unmake it.'

His autocratic tone only strengthened her resolve.

'I will not.'

'I am not so unchivalrous as to condemn you to such discomfort.'

'I shall be perfectly comfortable. Besides, there are bolts on the  parlour door, while the bedchamber boasted not even the flimsiest lock.'

Gideon sat up, frowning.

'Are you saying you do not trust me?'

'Yes, I am.'

He jumped up.

'Damn it all, when have I given you occasion to doubt me?'

Her brows went up.

'When you insisted we come here.'

The truth of her statement caught him on the raw and he swung away, striding over to the window.

'Do not be so damned obstinate, woman! I have said I will sleep on the sofa and I shall.'

His words appeared to have no effect.

'Impossible. It is far too short for you. Why, you must be six foot at least.'

'Six foot two,' he said absently. 'But that is not the point.'

'It is very much the point.' He heard the quiet rustle of skirts. 'You see, it is the perfect length for me.'

When he looked around she had stretched herself out on the sofa. Her  gown fell in soft folds around her, accentuating the contours of her  body, the swell of her breast and curve of her hip that only served to  emphasise the tiny waist. And how had he failed to notice the length of  her legs? She stretched luxuriously and he had a glimpse of dainty  ankles peeping from beneath the hem of her skirts. In any other  situation he would have found the view enchanting, but-hell and confound  it, she was mocking him!                       
       
           



       

'The bedroom has been prepared, madam and you will sleep in it.'

'And I tell you I shall not.'

He almost ground his teeth in frustration.

'I admit it was a mistake to come here.' He spoke carefully, reining in  his anger. 'I was at fault, but you will agree the provocation was  great.'

'Of course.'

'However, when all is said and done, I am a gentleman. I will not have  it said that I enjoyed the comfort of a feather bed while you spent the  night on a sofa!'

Dominique felt an unexpected frisson of excitement at his rough tone.  He was rattled and clearly no longer in control of the situation. An  exulting feeling of power swept through her. She put her hands behind  her head and gazed up at him defiantly.

'But I am already in possession, so I do not see that you can do  anything about it. I suggest you admit yourself beaten and retire in  good order.'

She closed her eyes and forced herself to keep very still, feigning  indifference. He would see she was not to be moved and would go away and  leave her in peace. She expected to hear a hasty footstep and the door  snapping closed behind him. Instead she heard something between a snarl  and a growl and the next moment she was being hoisted none too gently  off the sofa. Her eyes flew open and she gave a little scream as she  experienced the novel sensation of being helpless in a man's arms. But  not just any man, and along with her natural indignation she was aware  of the urgent desire curling through her body. It frightened her, but  she would fight it. She would show him she was no milk-and-water maid,  to be treated so abominably.

'You said you were a gentleman,' she protested, struggling against his  hold. In response his grip tightened, one arm pressing her against his  chest while the other supported her knees, so that her frustrated kicks  met nothing but air.

'I am, but you have tried my patience too far!'

'Put me down this instant!'

She tried to free her arms, but at that very moment he loosened his  grip around her shoulders. Instinctively her hands went around his neck  to save herself from falling. He looked down at her, a wicked glint in  his hazel eyes.

'I thought you wanted me to let go?'

She was feeling extremely breathless and her heart was thudding so  painfully against her ribs that he must feel it, since she was pressed  against his hard chest, but she replied with as much dignity as she  could muster.

'I do not wish to be dropped on my head.'

With a little grunt of satisfaction he settled her more comfortably  before him. Her arms were still around his neck and she could not for  the life of her release him. Dominique told herself this was solely for  the purpose of supporting herself, should he drop her, but she could not  deny the sensual pleasure of feeling the silk of his hair, where it  curled between her fingers and the back of his collar. Shocked by the  idea that part of her was enjoying Gideon's masterful behaviour, she  gave a half-hearted kick. His arms tightened and her breathing became  even more constricted.

'You are suffocating me,' she protested.

'Keep still, then.'

He crossed the room in three strides and somehow managed to open the door.

'Put me down!' she hissed at him as they crossed the empty hall. 'I can walk perfectly well.'

'And give you the opportunity to run straight back into the parlour? I think not.'

Silenced, Dominique marvelled at his strength as he took the stairs two  at a time. He held her firmly with his arm around her back and his hand  clasped about her ribs and she was achingly aware of how close his  fingers were to her breast. She was filled with outrage-at herself, for  her wanton feelings, but even more so at Gideon for his cavalier  behaviour. How dare he manhandle her in this way!

As they reached the landing Chiswick appeared in the corridor. He stopped, his eyes almost popping out of his head.

'Don't just stand there gawping, man,' barked Gideon. 'Open the door for me!'

Speechless with anger and shock, Dominique watched the servant throw  open the door to the bedchamber. The golden light of the fire and  several candles greeted them. Gideon sailed through with his burden and  the butler reached in to close the door behind them. As it clicked shut  there was the unmistakable sound of a throaty chuckle. It was all that  was needed to fan the spark of her anger into full flame. She began to  kick and struggle violently.                       
       
           



       

'How dare you treat me like this!'

'If you behave like a fishwife, then I will treat you as one.'

'Fishwife! I merely asked you to leave me alone.'

With an oath he set her on her feet, but kept hold of her wrists.

'By Gad, woman, you are beyond reason! Do you not want to sleep in a comfortable bed tonight?'

'No! I was quite happy to sleep downstairs.'

'Well I was not! Damnation, madam, you are here now and here you will stay, whether you like it or not.'

'Oh, and who is going to make me?'

'I am, even if it means I have to stand guard outside your door all night.'

'Much good that will do you, since there is a door from the dressing room on to the landing.'

'Then I had best stay here where I can see you.'

He released her, but there was a challenging look in his eye. Dominique  knew that if she made a bolt for the dressing-room door he would catch  her. She threw up her head.