men—free to your every whim.’
‘Free!’ Guy gave a derisive snort. ‘Nay, Jane. I am not free.’ He leaned close to her and his voice rose as he chafed under the lash of her words. ‘And I would not flee from you. Let me assure you I would not. Do you think I would put so little value on you that I would so lightly regard your state?’
Jane stared at him. Guy St Edmond was shameless. ‘Is it your desire to see me shamed?’ she asked him.
‘I hope that won’t happen.’
‘I fear it will. I would have to live with what you would do to me for the rest of my life. I will be a fallen woman. Impure. You deserve no respect for this.’
‘Perhaps not. I’m afraid I might find it hard to find peace away from you. You are very well aware of the effect you have on me—surely you recognise desire in a man’s eyes?’
Jane stared at him, wondering that he could speak like this to her, with such assurance, as if he believed she would not be able to resist him. Vaguely disturbed by his words, she felt a strange emotion swell within her breast. His voice was at once brusque and warm, imperiousand tender. She must fight against this fascination he was beginning to exert over her.
‘If you still require a mistress, then you must look elsewhere.’
‘I have no desire to look elsewhere.’ He took her hand and traced the lines on its palm. He felt her response and smiled. ‘See how easily I touch you,’ he murmured, ‘how recklessly I make you come to me and then tease you—how I pluck your strings, as if you are but a lute.’
The intimacy of his touch and his voice, the suggestion of playing her like a lute, both excited and shamed her. ‘You jest with me, my lord.’
He laughed, a robust sound as mighty as he was. ‘Ah, Jane, I never jest on matters as serious as this.
‘What an impatient nature you have,’ she remarked. ‘You certainly have an aptitude for spontaneity. But as I said, you must look elsewhere.’
‘Why should I do that when I have perfection right here? My dear Jane, you look like something a lonely man far from home would dream about in the small hours of the morning. Had I been able to store such a memory in my heart years ago, it would have surely given me hope in times of need.’
Jane gave him a scornful look. ‘Your words flow like honey from your lips, my lord, that it makes me wary. I am nothing to you. You do not know me. We are strangers and I have certainly not sought your attention or encouraged you in any way. Why are you doing this?’
He shrugged. ‘Several reasons—some I do not understand myself. You have attracted my attention. You have excited my compassion for your position, inspired my sympathy for your needs—’
‘And for this you want me to become your mistress?’ she remarked with a sneer.
‘Aye, Jane, and the fact that you remain in my memory long enough for me to do something about it.’
‘Then if this is the way you go about trying to woo a lady, you haven’t a prayer of success.’
‘I haven’t?’
‘No. Based on what I know of you, I would not be in the least surprised if you were to toss the lady over your shoulder and carry her off, and, if she still refused your amorous intentions, to lay her over your knee and beat her into submission.’
For some reason her words brought a mocking gleam and a narrowing to his eyes. ‘Have a care what you say, Jane, lest you give me foodfor thought. I admit that I have erred, having spent so much time in conquest to bring peace. As a boy I saw little of my parents. When I was seven I was sent to live with a noble family in Hertfordshire. I became a page and had to wait on lords and ladies. I also learned to fight. At fourteen I became a squire and at twenty-one a knight. I’ve spent so much of my life in conquest that I have much to learn when it comes to the finer points of wooing a lady. One hasn’t the opportunity to meet very many suitable ladies on the battlefield.’
‘Then perhaps you
‘Free!’ Guy gave a derisive snort. ‘Nay, Jane. I am not free.’ He leaned close to her and his voice rose as he chafed under the lash of her words. ‘And I would not flee from you. Let me assure you I would not. Do you think I would put so little value on you that I would so lightly regard your state?’
Jane stared at him. Guy St Edmond was shameless. ‘Is it your desire to see me shamed?’ she asked him.
‘I hope that won’t happen.’
‘I fear it will. I would have to live with what you would do to me for the rest of my life. I will be a fallen woman. Impure. You deserve no respect for this.’
‘Perhaps not. I’m afraid I might find it hard to find peace away from you. You are very well aware of the effect you have on me—surely you recognise desire in a man’s eyes?’
Jane stared at him, wondering that he could speak like this to her, with such assurance, as if he believed she would not be able to resist him. Vaguely disturbed by his words, she felt a strange emotion swell within her breast. His voice was at once brusque and warm, imperiousand tender. She must fight against this fascination he was beginning to exert over her.
‘If you still require a mistress, then you must look elsewhere.’
‘I have no desire to look elsewhere.’ He took her hand and traced the lines on its palm. He felt her response and smiled. ‘See how easily I touch you,’ he murmured, ‘how recklessly I make you come to me and then tease you—how I pluck your strings, as if you are but a lute.’
The intimacy of his touch and his voice, the suggestion of playing her like a lute, both excited and shamed her. ‘You jest with me, my lord.’
He laughed, a robust sound as mighty as he was. ‘Ah, Jane, I never jest on matters as serious as this.
‘What an impatient nature you have,’ she remarked. ‘You certainly have an aptitude for spontaneity. But as I said, you must look elsewhere.’
‘Why should I do that when I have perfection right here? My dear Jane, you look like something a lonely man far from home would dream about in the small hours of the morning. Had I been able to store such a memory in my heart years ago, it would have surely given me hope in times of need.’
Jane gave him a scornful look. ‘Your words flow like honey from your lips, my lord, that it makes me wary. I am nothing to you. You do not know me. We are strangers and I have certainly not sought your attention or encouraged you in any way. Why are you doing this?’
He shrugged. ‘Several reasons—some I do not understand myself. You have attracted my attention. You have excited my compassion for your position, inspired my sympathy for your needs—’
‘And for this you want me to become your mistress?’ she remarked with a sneer.
‘Aye, Jane, and the fact that you remain in my memory long enough for me to do something about it.’
‘Then if this is the way you go about trying to woo a lady, you haven’t a prayer of success.’
‘I haven’t?’
‘No. Based on what I know of you, I would not be in the least surprised if you were to toss the lady over your shoulder and carry her off, and, if she still refused your amorous intentions, to lay her over your knee and beat her into submission.’
For some reason her words brought a mocking gleam and a narrowing to his eyes. ‘Have a care what you say, Jane, lest you give me foodfor thought. I admit that I have erred, having spent so much time in conquest to bring peace. As a boy I saw little of my parents. When I was seven I was sent to live with a noble family in Hertfordshire. I became a page and had to wait on lords and ladies. I also learned to fight. At fourteen I became a squire and at twenty-one a knight. I’ve spent so much of my life in conquest that I have much to learn when it comes to the finer points of wooing a lady. One hasn’t the opportunity to meet very many suitable ladies on the battlefield.’
‘Then perhaps you
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