Deadly Illusions. Brenda Joyce

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СКАЧАТЬ her side, his arm around her waist as if holding her up. “I’m afraid my fiancée needs some air,” he said firmly, and before either Andrew or Julia could speak, he was propelling her from the room.

      Hart was a tall, broad-shouldered man. He was clad in a dark suit. The pitch-black wool might have been dour on another man, but on him it only heightened a sense of danger and made him more alluring. Hart’s gaze moved over her face and Francesca knew she blushed, her heart continuing to race wildly. His dark eyes—midnight blue flecked with gold—slipped down her jacket and skirts.

      She began to smile, leaning against him. They crossed the hall and entered a salon, Hart’s strong arm an anchor about her waist. He stopped just inside the salon, one with a dozen opulent seating areas. Smiling back at her, he pushed the door closed with his foot.

      She choked down her rising laughter. “That was painfully transparent.”

      He took her in both arms. “I have been away for two very long weeks, Francesca,” he murmured, “and we both know I don’t care what the present company says or thinks.”

      She knew she should protest as his hands slipped to her shoulders. Not because she did not want his kisses, but because her father was very opposed to Hart and was testing him in every way to see if he was worthy of her. Julia, on the other hand, wanted the match and openly gloated about it. She grasped his shoulders, too. “I think you missed me, Hart.” She felt certain that he had and she grinned, never mind the heat slamming through her body.

      “How clever a deduction,” he said. “And it’s Calder, darling—or am I making you nervous?” A dimple winked in his cheek. He was making her nervous, damn him for knowing! They had only shared a few hours of intimacy together, and she had forgotten how devastating it was being in his arms, his hard, strong body pressed up against hers. Clearly he was aroused, and she decided to ignore the question. “Are you going to kiss me or not?”

      “Bold wench,” he said, and she heard laughter in his tone. “You did not answer me, darling. Why am I making you nervous?” And he stared intently into her eyes, no longer smiling at all.

      She stared back, her breath suspended. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “These past few weeks have felt so odd. I have been drifting about in a fog. It’s almost as if it has all been a dream. I expect to wake up and find you a figment of my imagination!”

      Surprise was there in his eyes, which were turning the color of ash. But his grip tightened on her. “I’m flattered, Francesca, but I am not a dream. In fact, some women find me a nightmare.”

      She wet her lips, well aware of all the broken hearts he had left in his wake. “I don’t,” she began. “Calder—”

      He cut her off, pulling her close and covering her mouth with his.

      Francesca lost all coherent thought. He knew how to kiss a woman, as he had seduced so many, but this time he wasn’t interested in seduction. As his mouth instantly opened hers, as he penetrated deeply with his tongue, she sensed his need to possess. She melted as he kissed her again and again, somehow standing, her legs useless, desire pooling between her thighs, a flood. Hart had come to hold her face in his hands as he continued to kiss her as deeply as he could. Somehow, she managed to realize that he had really missed her. His desire felt explosive. She was beyond thrilled.

      She tore her mouth from his. It was hard to speak as she clung to him. “Why don’t you take me home tonight,” she finally gasped.

      His eyes widened. “I won’t pretend I am not tempted and highly so, but nothing has changed. We wait until our wedding night, Francesca.”

      Her hands fisted and she pounded him once on the chest. “Damn it! I hate your nobility!”

      He smiled at her. “I’m the least noble man you know. But I won’t treat you like the others.”

      “You’ve never offered marriage to anyone else, so even if we share a bed before the wedding, you are not treating me like the others!” she cried. But this was a useless battle and she knew it. They’d had it several times before.

      He stepped away from her, murmuring, “I’ll take care of you, but this is not the time or the place.”

      She finally began to breathe, trembling now. She knew what he meant. She had been in his bed, once, for a few hours. He had touched and kissed her everywhere, giving her more pleasure than she had ever dreamed possible. It had been sheer ec stasy. She blushed just thinking about it. “When?”

      He laughed and turned away, raking his hand through his coarse, dark hair. “As soon as the opportunity presents itself,” he said, amusement in his tone.

      “What is so entertaining about this?” she demanded, hands on her hips.

      He stood at the fireplace, both hands on the marble mantle, and he gave her a look over his shoulder. His eyes were hot; his tone was not. “This is far harder for me than you, darling. Trust me.”

      “Let’s move up the wedding,” she demanded.

      “You know it is your father who insists upon a year.”

      “I am going to change his mind,” Francesca vowed grimly.

      He turned and faced her, making no effort to come close. “There is blood on your jacket,” he remarked.

      Surprised, she glanced down at herself. When she saw a large, obvious smear of dried blood on the bottom of her blue wool jacket, she gasped. Then the comprehension dawned and horrified, she looked up.

      His smile was grim. “Only you would walk into a dinner party covered in blood. Another case…darling?”

      She found her voice. “No wonder Mama sounded so strange! Oh, dear! And I am not covered in blood—it is one smear!”

      “There’s a patch on your skirt, too.” His tone was flat and surprisingly calm.

      Which meant nothing. With Hart, it could be the lull before the storm. Francesca carefully noted a spot near her left knee. “I must have brushed the sheets,” she remarked, more to her self than to him.

      “The sheets? Care to elaborate?” How casual he sounded.

      She wrung her hands and met his gaze. “Did everyone see?”

      “Undoubtedly.” He softened, approaching and taking her small hands in his large ones. “We will be the talk of the town, will we not, darling? I can see it now. My indiscretions, my past, my penchant for depravity, my shocking art—all will become passé. You shall meet me at an affair covered in blood, or with the smell of gunpowder on your clothes and in your hair. Now, instead of gossiping about me behind my back, they will gossip about you. They shall whisper that we are the oddest match, but that we deserve one another.” He actually smiled, clearly enjoying the notion.

      “This isn’t funny,” she said, her heart sinking. “I know you don’t care about your reputation, but I do care about mine, or at least, Mama cares, desperately, and—”

      He suddenly reached out and reeled her back into her arms. “I know it hurts you to be called an eccentric, but with me at your side, they can call you far worse and it simply will not matter. As my wife, you will be able to do as you want. Surely you know that, Francesca? Our marriage will give you more freedom to be what you truly СКАЧАТЬ