Once and Always
Page 64
“Surely you have no illusions left about love,” he scoffed with stinging impatience. “Your experience with Bainbridge should have taught you that love is only an emotion used to manipulate fools. I neither expect nor want your love, Victoria.”
Victoria grasped the back of the chair beside her, reeling under his words. She opened her mouth to refuse his offer, but he shook his head to forestall her. “Don’t answer me before you consider what I’ve said. If you marry me, you’ll have the freedom to do whatever you like with your life. You could build one hospital in America and another near Wakefield, and stay in England. I have six estates and a thousand tenants and servants. My servants alone could provide you with enough sick people to fill up your hospital. If not, I’ll pay them to get sick.” A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, but Victoria was too heartsore to see any humor in the situation.
When he saw that his quip had won no response, he added lightly, “You can cover the walls of Wakefield with your sketches, and if you run out of room, I’ll add on to the house.” Victoria was still trying to absorb the startling information that he knew she sketched when he reached out and ran his fingertips across her taut cheek and said matter-of-factly, “You’ll find me a very generous husband, I promise you.”
The finality of the word “husband” sent a chill skidding through Victoria’s body and she clasped her arms, rubbing them in a futile effort to warm herself. “Why?” she whispered. “Why me? If you want sons, there are dozens of females in London who are nauseatingly eager to marry you.”
“Because I’m attracted to you—surely you know that,” he said. “Besides,” he added, his eyes teasing as his hands went to her shoulders and he tried to draw her near, “you like me. You told me so when you thought I was asleep— remember?”
Victoria gaped at him, unable to absorb the amazing revelation that he was actually attracted to her. “I liked Andrew, too,” she retorted with angry impertinence. “I have poor judgment in the matter of men.”
“True,” he agreed, amusement dancing in his eyes.
She felt herself being drawn relentlessly closer to his chest. “I think you’ve taken leave of your senses!” she said in a strangled voice. “I think you’re quite mad!”
“I have and I am,” he agreed as he angled his arm across her back, holding her close.
“I won’t do it. I can’t—”
“Victoria,” he said softly, “you have no choice.” His voice turned husky and persuasive as her breasts finally came into contact with his shirt. “I can give you everything a woman wants—”
“Everything but love,” Victoria choked.
“Everything a woman really wants,” he amended, and before Victoria could fathom that cynical remark, his firmly chiseled lips began a slow, deliberate descent toward hers. “I’ll give you jewels and furs,” he promised. “You’ll have more money than you’ve ever dreamed of.” His free hand cupped the back of her head, crumpling the silk of her hair as he tilted her face up for his kiss. “In return, all you have to give me is this.. . .”
Oddly, Victoria’s one thought was that he was selling himself too cheaply, asking too little of her. He was handsome and wealthy and desired—surely he had a right to expect more from his wife than this. . . . And then her mind went blank as his sensual mouth seized possession of hers in an endless, stirring kiss that slowly built to one of demanding insistence and left her trembling with hot sensations. He touched his tongue to her lips, sliding it between them, coaxing them, then forcing them to part, and when they did his tongue plunged between them, sending shock waves of dizzying emotions jolting through her. Victoria moaned and his arms tightened protectively around her, pulling her against his hard length while his tongue began a slow, wildly erotic seduction and his hands shifted possessively over her sides and shoulders and back.
By the time he finally lifted his head, Victoria felt dazed and hot and inexplicably afraid.
“Look at me,” he whispered, putting his hand beneath her chin and tipping it up. “You’re trembling,” he said as her wide blue eyes lifted to his. “Are you afraid of me?”
Regardless of all the raw emotions quivering through her, Victoria shook her head. She wasn’t afraid of him; she was suddenly, inexplicably afraid for herself. “No,” she said.
A smile hovered about his lips. “You are, but you’ve no reason to be.” He laid his hand against her heated face, slowly running it back to smooth her heavy hair. “I will hurt you only once, and then only because it’s unavoidable.”
“What—why?”
His jaw tensed. “Perhaps it won’t hurt after all. Is that it?”
“Is what it?” Victoria cried a little hysterically. “I wish you wouldn’t speak in riddles when I’m already so confused I can scarcely think.”
With one of his quicksilver changes of mood, he dismissed the matter with a cool shrug. “It doesn’t matter,” he said curtly. “I don’t care what you did with Bainbridge. That was before.”
“Before?” Victoria repeated in rising tones of frustrated incomprehension. “Before what?”
“Before me,” he said in a clipped tone. “However, I think you ought to know in advance that I won’t tolerate being cuckolded. Is that clear?”
Victoria’s mouth dropped open. “Cuckolded! You’re mad. Utterly mad.”
His lips quirked in a near-smile. “We’ve already agreed on that.”
“If you continue speaking in insulting innuendos,” she warned, “I’m going upstairs to the sanctuary of my room.”
Jason looked down into her stormy blue eyes and repressed the sudden urge to gather her into his arms and again devour her mouth with his. “Very well, we’ll talk about something mundane. What is Mrs. Craddock preparing?”
Victoria felt as if the world, and everyone in it, was revolving in one direction, while she was constantly turning in the opposite direction, dizzy and lost. “Mrs. Craddock?” she uttered blankly.
“The cook. See, I have learned her name. I also know that O’Malley is your favorite footman.” He grinned. “Now, what is Mrs. Craddock preparing for supper?”
“Goose,” Victoria said, trying to recover her balance. “Is—is that acceptable?”
Victoria grasped the back of the chair beside her, reeling under his words. She opened her mouth to refuse his offer, but he shook his head to forestall her. “Don’t answer me before you consider what I’ve said. If you marry me, you’ll have the freedom to do whatever you like with your life. You could build one hospital in America and another near Wakefield, and stay in England. I have six estates and a thousand tenants and servants. My servants alone could provide you with enough sick people to fill up your hospital. If not, I’ll pay them to get sick.” A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, but Victoria was too heartsore to see any humor in the situation.
When he saw that his quip had won no response, he added lightly, “You can cover the walls of Wakefield with your sketches, and if you run out of room, I’ll add on to the house.” Victoria was still trying to absorb the startling information that he knew she sketched when he reached out and ran his fingertips across her taut cheek and said matter-of-factly, “You’ll find me a very generous husband, I promise you.”
The finality of the word “husband” sent a chill skidding through Victoria’s body and she clasped her arms, rubbing them in a futile effort to warm herself. “Why?” she whispered. “Why me? If you want sons, there are dozens of females in London who are nauseatingly eager to marry you.”
“Because I’m attracted to you—surely you know that,” he said. “Besides,” he added, his eyes teasing as his hands went to her shoulders and he tried to draw her near, “you like me. You told me so when you thought I was asleep— remember?”
Victoria gaped at him, unable to absorb the amazing revelation that he was actually attracted to her. “I liked Andrew, too,” she retorted with angry impertinence. “I have poor judgment in the matter of men.”
“True,” he agreed, amusement dancing in his eyes.
She felt herself being drawn relentlessly closer to his chest. “I think you’ve taken leave of your senses!” she said in a strangled voice. “I think you’re quite mad!”
“I have and I am,” he agreed as he angled his arm across her back, holding her close.
“I won’t do it. I can’t—”
“Victoria,” he said softly, “you have no choice.” His voice turned husky and persuasive as her breasts finally came into contact with his shirt. “I can give you everything a woman wants—”
“Everything but love,” Victoria choked.
“Everything a woman really wants,” he amended, and before Victoria could fathom that cynical remark, his firmly chiseled lips began a slow, deliberate descent toward hers. “I’ll give you jewels and furs,” he promised. “You’ll have more money than you’ve ever dreamed of.” His free hand cupped the back of her head, crumpling the silk of her hair as he tilted her face up for his kiss. “In return, all you have to give me is this.. . .”
Oddly, Victoria’s one thought was that he was selling himself too cheaply, asking too little of her. He was handsome and wealthy and desired—surely he had a right to expect more from his wife than this. . . . And then her mind went blank as his sensual mouth seized possession of hers in an endless, stirring kiss that slowly built to one of demanding insistence and left her trembling with hot sensations. He touched his tongue to her lips, sliding it between them, coaxing them, then forcing them to part, and when they did his tongue plunged between them, sending shock waves of dizzying emotions jolting through her. Victoria moaned and his arms tightened protectively around her, pulling her against his hard length while his tongue began a slow, wildly erotic seduction and his hands shifted possessively over her sides and shoulders and back.
By the time he finally lifted his head, Victoria felt dazed and hot and inexplicably afraid.
“Look at me,” he whispered, putting his hand beneath her chin and tipping it up. “You’re trembling,” he said as her wide blue eyes lifted to his. “Are you afraid of me?”
Regardless of all the raw emotions quivering through her, Victoria shook her head. She wasn’t afraid of him; she was suddenly, inexplicably afraid for herself. “No,” she said.
A smile hovered about his lips. “You are, but you’ve no reason to be.” He laid his hand against her heated face, slowly running it back to smooth her heavy hair. “I will hurt you only once, and then only because it’s unavoidable.”
“What—why?”
His jaw tensed. “Perhaps it won’t hurt after all. Is that it?”
“Is what it?” Victoria cried a little hysterically. “I wish you wouldn’t speak in riddles when I’m already so confused I can scarcely think.”
With one of his quicksilver changes of mood, he dismissed the matter with a cool shrug. “It doesn’t matter,” he said curtly. “I don’t care what you did with Bainbridge. That was before.”
“Before?” Victoria repeated in rising tones of frustrated incomprehension. “Before what?”
“Before me,” he said in a clipped tone. “However, I think you ought to know in advance that I won’t tolerate being cuckolded. Is that clear?”
Victoria’s mouth dropped open. “Cuckolded! You’re mad. Utterly mad.”
His lips quirked in a near-smile. “We’ve already agreed on that.”
“If you continue speaking in insulting innuendos,” she warned, “I’m going upstairs to the sanctuary of my room.”
Jason looked down into her stormy blue eyes and repressed the sudden urge to gather her into his arms and again devour her mouth with his. “Very well, we’ll talk about something mundane. What is Mrs. Craddock preparing?”
Victoria felt as if the world, and everyone in it, was revolving in one direction, while she was constantly turning in the opposite direction, dizzy and lost. “Mrs. Craddock?” she uttered blankly.
“The cook. See, I have learned her name. I also know that O’Malley is your favorite footman.” He grinned. “Now, what is Mrs. Craddock preparing for supper?”
“Goose,” Victoria said, trying to recover her balance. “Is—is that acceptable?”
