talking about your reputation, Natalie. If it’s discovered you’ve left for the Continent with me, you’ll be socially ruined, and for life. Have you considered that?”
Those words hung in the air like a dark, menacing thundercloud. He continued to stare down at her from only a foot away, taking note of the crease of perplexing contemplation on her brow; of her shining hair; her long, silky brown lashes; her soft, slightly parted, pink lips, perfectly shaped and lusciously alluring. She had evidently come to a conclusion that day as to the nature of their relationship on this voyage, for she found him neither threatening nor tiresome, but more of a companion. Almost brotherly. Presenting himself as her brother would never be believed by anyone, however, and just knowing that made him gloat inside. He would enjoy the next hour, even the rest of the night, immensely. He was about to clear up perfectly, with no uncertainty, exactly what their relationship was to be. And he had to do it before she pressed him to leave her and go to a room he didn’t actually have.
“Then we will have to be extremely careful,” she whispered dryly, cutting into his thoughts. “Someone of your reputation . . .”
Her voice trailed off into the clear night sky, as if it gradually occurred to her that she wasn’t with her brother, but a man who might very well want her for more than companionship.
“And what do you know of my reputation, Miss Haislett?” he inquired soberly, inching closer to her even as she gripped the railing to her side for additional support.
As nonchalantly as she could, she acknowledged what to her was the obvious. “I know you adore women, and they generally adore you in return. I know you change mistresses as casually as you change your boots. I know you think no woman alive can resist you.” She smiled impishly. “I, however, am the exception, and will be for the remainder of our trip. I know you’re a trader of fine goods, whatever that means, and that it’s made you a wealthy man—honestly wealthy, which is good. I know you enjoy lavishing that wealth on the women you . . . entertain. I know you come from a respectable family and that they enjoy you and discussing your escapades very much.”
He blinked, suppressing the urge to laugh at her absurd generalizations, but feeling a stirring heat within of something akin to triumph as she openly admitted her knowledge about him and his personal affairs.
“You’ve apparently studied me to some depth,” he responded with charming smoothness.
She looked out over the horizon, as if taking a sudden great interest in the near-black, lightly swirling ocean. “Not purposely, I assure you, although you as well as other unattached gentlemen come up in social conversation from time to time. Naturally such conversation can’t be avoided easily.”
“Naturally,” he agreed.
“Your brother’s wife is also my closest friend,” she amended for additional escape. “It would be impossible for me not to hear at least some things.”
A most contrived answer, and they both knew it.
“Ahh . . . ,” was his only reply.
Seconds ticked by in uncomfortable silence. Then, with keen anticipation of the line he was about to cross, he reached up and cupped her cheek with his palm, turning her face back to his, gazing into wide eyes of instant uneasiness.
“But there’s one inaccuracy I must correct,” he said softly.
She didn’t pull away but batted her lashes in feigned innocence. “An inaccuracy? Which part?”
“The resisting part.”
She frowned delicately, as if trying to remember exactly what she’d said. “That no woman can resist you? I hardly think—”
“ You cannot resist me, Natalie, sweet.”
And then he was kissing her, smothering any hint of denial with his lips, pressing tenderly at first, with no real trace of movement, just a touch. He didn’t pull her into him, but stood there in the shadow of dusk, the faint sound of waves
Those words hung in the air like a dark, menacing thundercloud. He continued to stare down at her from only a foot away, taking note of the crease of perplexing contemplation on her brow; of her shining hair; her long, silky brown lashes; her soft, slightly parted, pink lips, perfectly shaped and lusciously alluring. She had evidently come to a conclusion that day as to the nature of their relationship on this voyage, for she found him neither threatening nor tiresome, but more of a companion. Almost brotherly. Presenting himself as her brother would never be believed by anyone, however, and just knowing that made him gloat inside. He would enjoy the next hour, even the rest of the night, immensely. He was about to clear up perfectly, with no uncertainty, exactly what their relationship was to be. And he had to do it before she pressed him to leave her and go to a room he didn’t actually have.
“Then we will have to be extremely careful,” she whispered dryly, cutting into his thoughts. “Someone of your reputation . . .”
Her voice trailed off into the clear night sky, as if it gradually occurred to her that she wasn’t with her brother, but a man who might very well want her for more than companionship.
“And what do you know of my reputation, Miss Haislett?” he inquired soberly, inching closer to her even as she gripped the railing to her side for additional support.
As nonchalantly as she could, she acknowledged what to her was the obvious. “I know you adore women, and they generally adore you in return. I know you change mistresses as casually as you change your boots. I know you think no woman alive can resist you.” She smiled impishly. “I, however, am the exception, and will be for the remainder of our trip. I know you’re a trader of fine goods, whatever that means, and that it’s made you a wealthy man—honestly wealthy, which is good. I know you enjoy lavishing that wealth on the women you . . . entertain. I know you come from a respectable family and that they enjoy you and discussing your escapades very much.”
He blinked, suppressing the urge to laugh at her absurd generalizations, but feeling a stirring heat within of something akin to triumph as she openly admitted her knowledge about him and his personal affairs.
“You’ve apparently studied me to some depth,” he responded with charming smoothness.
She looked out over the horizon, as if taking a sudden great interest in the near-black, lightly swirling ocean. “Not purposely, I assure you, although you as well as other unattached gentlemen come up in social conversation from time to time. Naturally such conversation can’t be avoided easily.”
“Naturally,” he agreed.
“Your brother’s wife is also my closest friend,” she amended for additional escape. “It would be impossible for me not to hear at least some things.”
A most contrived answer, and they both knew it.
“Ahh . . . ,” was his only reply.
Seconds ticked by in uncomfortable silence. Then, with keen anticipation of the line he was about to cross, he reached up and cupped her cheek with his palm, turning her face back to his, gazing into wide eyes of instant uneasiness.
“But there’s one inaccuracy I must correct,” he said softly.
She didn’t pull away but batted her lashes in feigned innocence. “An inaccuracy? Which part?”
“The resisting part.”
She frowned delicately, as if trying to remember exactly what she’d said. “That no woman can resist you? I hardly think—”
“ You cannot resist me, Natalie, sweet.”
And then he was kissing her, smothering any hint of denial with his lips, pressing tenderly at first, with no real trace of movement, just a touch. He didn’t pull her into him, but stood there in the shadow of dusk, the faint sound of waves
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