Silk and Shadows(44)

"Sweet Sara," he whispered, caressing her slender form as if his hands could meld them into one flesh, "you are as rare and lovely as the treasures of the Silk Road."

Unbuttoning her jacket, he slipped his hand inside, mentally cursing the blouse, petticoat, and corset that still separated them. Gently he squeezed the soft, fluid weight of her breast. "You are like gold and silk and ivory that have been warmed to wondrous life."

Sara gasped as his words dissolved the intoxicated delight that held her in thrall. Though not unaware of what she was doing, all normal constraints had vanished when she discovered the headlong urgency of desire. As she yielded to that urgency, shy acceptance had changed to fierce response, and in the tumult of her senses, she had been shameless.

But now passion no longer clouded her judgment, though it still burned in her blood. She broke the kiss and made herself focus on Peregrine's dark, craggy face. His green eyes were misty with passion, and this time there was nothing enigmatic about him. He wanted her. And, heaven help her, she wanted him.

She pushed herself off his lap and slid across the window seat so they were no longer touching. "No," she said, her voice raw. "I'm sorry, this is wrong, I can't do it."

After a startled moment, he sat up and wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close again while he lifted her face to his. Murmuring, "But of course you can do this. See how easy and right it is?" He drew her into another drugging kiss.

For a moment her resolve thinned to snapping point. Then she jerked away and stood, almost falling in her awkward haste to put distance between them.

"It may be easy," Sara said unevenly, "but it isn't right, because I am promised to another man." She backed half a dozen feet along the wall, using it to steady her precarious balance. "I have dishonored both him and myself."

Peregrine's wavy black hair had fallen across his forehead, and his chest was heaving, as if he had been running. As Sara looked at the harsh planes of his face, for a moment she was frightened. They were alone in the house, and she was completely at his mercy. Even an English gentleman, raised to the same notions of honor as Sara, might be dangerous under these circumstances. A man from an alien culture might decide that Sara deserved whatever he chose to do to her.

"My behavior gives you every reason to be angry, but please..." Her voice broke. Even more than fear, she felt shame.

He looked away for a moment, a faint shudder running through his powerful frame as his fingers tightened on the edge of the window seat. When he turned to her again, his eyes were clear and the sense of danger had passed.

But as Sara began to relax, she recognized a subtler danger. Once more she felt his mysterious, potent attraction, as if an invisible current was reaching out to draw her back to him.

Sara's willpower almost broke. She wanted to walk straight into his arms and surrender to passion, and she knew that if he embraced her, she would yield utterly. But to her infinite relief, he did not move from the window seat. She offered a swift inward prayer of thanks that he did not know how much power he had over her.

"You have not married Weldon yet, and perhaps you should not do so," he said coolly. "Do you react that way to his kisses?"

"That is none of your business." Sara flushed. "Besides, marriage is not about passion. It is about trust, about mutual values and respect.'

"Don't forget mutual property," he said, his tone ironic. "You are a considerable heiress, and Weldon's businesses are less prosperous than they appear."

She inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself amid a maelstrom of emotions. "Charles is no fortune hunter, but even if he were, it would not alter the fact that I am pledged to him. By my actions, I have already betrayed him unforgivably."

His expression became even more satiric. "If you think that the modest kisses we just exchanged are unforgivable, why not finish what you have begun? Not only would you enjoy the experience, but you would also have something worth feeling guilty about."

Modest kisses, indeed! Her flush deepened as she remembered the wanton way she had twined around him. Thank heaven for complicated clothing; if she had been wearing one of the flimsy dresses of the previous generation, they would have been coupling before she had had time to realize what was happening.

"I behaved badly to you as well as disgracing myself, and you have every reason to be angry," she said, raising her chin, "but don't mock me. It is unworthy of you."

His expression changed. "I was not mocking you," he said gently. "But I do think you are making too much of a momentary lapse. You are a lovely woman, I kissed you, and you enjoyed it. That is not such a great sin."