Hot Silk. Sharon Page

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      “It was glorious,” Grace whispered. “Perfect. Amazing. Magnificent.”

      Devlin, her highwayman, gave a gravelly laugh and snuggled into her side. This was an intimacy she’d never imagined—being cuddled by a powerful naked man while her heart still hammered and her body felt as though she floated on velvet clouds.

      Beneath her sweat-slicked body, her sheets were a jumble, reminding her of how wild she’d been. Regret speared her suddenly—she had made a private vow to put aside her impetuous behavior and act like a lady for the sake of her family.

      And now she lay, sighing with pleasure, beside a naked highwayman.

      Muscular and strong, his arm cradled her protectively, just below her breasts. “What is wrong, love?”

      She shook her head, blinking tears. She had started thinking again and now she could not stop. What had she done? Her behavior was scandalous. This was how her wild, bohemian father would behave. Self-indulgent, her mother had called it.

      Fighting tears, she whispered, “My family has no money. We will end up in a workhouse. I was going to marry well. I was going to save us all.”

      Devlin’s lips nuzzled her neck but she pulled away.

      “I’d marry you, love, but it would scandalize you and destroy your reputation.”

      I’d marry you.

      His words struck her mute. She had never expected he would even consider marriage.

      Devlin rolled up onto his side. Tangled and free, his hair rippled to his shoulders. His eyes sparkled. “No doubt I don’t have long for this world—someone will run me through or get a noose around my neck. If you were my wife, you would inherit a bloody fortune—but I fear it would put you at too much risk.”

      Did he feel he owed her an offer? Hastily, she said, “I wouldn’t want to marry you.”

      He cupped her bare breast and teased her shoulder with his tongue before murmuring against her ear, “If you’re in trouble, Grace, I’d like to help you. How much do you need?”

      She jerked away. “Pay me? You want to pay me? As though I’m a mistress? Or a courtesan?”

      A voice in her head screamed, Take it! Take it. Your family is going to starve. You must say yes.

      What was wrong with her? How could she want to say yes to being paid like a prostitute?

      What shocked her was not his offer. What shocked her was that she wanted to say yes.

      “It’s not payment, love. It’s a noble use for my ill-gotten gains. I stole this money, sweetheart. From gentlemen who gamble away fortunes, who drink a king’s ransom in brandy, who lavishly give diamonds to whores. Giving it to you is the right thing to do. Can you not see that?”

      She struggled to sit up and fought to cover herself with a sheet. “Accepting it is not the right thing to do.”

      “For God’s sake. It might be more noble to starve, but it’s insanity. You need the money. You deserve the money.”

      What else would he think of her? She’d gone from one man’s bed to another’s, within hours! She slid off the edge of the bed, pulling enough white sheet to cover her. “Why are men so blasted…cruel after making love?”

      In the silence that stretched, while her silver-tongued pirate gaped at her in surprise, she thought of a painting of her father’s she had once seen but had not understood. A gentleman, a peer on bended knee, pursuing a lady, kissing the lady’s hand while she turned away and tried to resist. And then, after the lovemaking, the undressed and disheveled lady was clinging to the peer while he tugged on his trousers and tried to escape.

      Devlin wanted to help her, but he was offering her money because he’d shared her bed.

      It wasn’t that she’d expected anything. She hadn’t. But he’d discounted her just as Lord Wesley had done. Not as cruelly, but it hurt.

      Wesley had wanted to insult her and forget about her.

      Mr. Sharpe wanted to pay her and forget about her.

      He reached for her, but she stepped back, almost tripping over the sheet.

      “Grace.”

      “You can leave with your purse intact, Mr. Sharpe. All I wanted from you was—” What? Excitement? Better memories?

      Now, she wasn’t certain.

      “I only want to help you, Grace. How can that be wrong? How can that hurt you?” He raked his hair back. “Damn it, I don’t understand. What bloody crime did I commit?”

      This time she could not run away. Not from her own bedroom without a stitch of clothing on.

      The mattress creaked as he jumped to the floor. He stalked toward his clothes. “I’ll go, Grace, because I won’t hurt you or scare you by staying. But this is not over, love. It wasn’t my intention to make you angry or hurt you.”

      She turned away as he flung on his clothes—most of them, at least.

      Her heart had been broken again. The hurt she’d hoped to erase burned even stronger within her, a hot ache around her heart.

      She had turned to Mr. Sharpe, certain her heart would not be engaged, but the minute she’d tumbled into intimacy with him, she’d let herself fall in love. Well, not exactly love…a hope, a need for connection, a want for partnership.

      Now she knew—she couldn’t make love without involving her heart. It was as simple as that.

      The moment her bedroom door shut with a click, she was no longer sure why she’d driven Devlin Sharpe away.

      4

      “Grace, whatever are you doing?”

      Grace started guilty, caught in the act of sneaking away by her best friend. There could obviously be no other reason to be lurking beside a carriage on the front drive immediately after breakfast. Though her cheeks flushed with instant warmth, she prayed her shame was not obvious as she turned to face Lady Prudence. Dressed in a fur-trimmed velvet pelisse of sky blue, Prudence looked both lovely and distinctly hurt as she hurried down the sweeping staircase to the gravel drive. Overhead, the sky, as though sensing Grace’s mood, was strewn with dark gray СКАЧАТЬ