Surrender To Love. Rosemary Rogers

wasn’t any of his business!

      Stiffly, Alexa forced herself to say: “Thank you. And I suppose it was rather rude of me not to say before how grateful I am that you…” Behind her awkwardly stammered words a picture flashed through her mind of the shape of a body cutting through black water to rise suddenly and after almost too long, to break through a moon-silvered surface. An arm—uplifted for a moment in a mocking salute. He must have been holding her bracelet then!

      “Your fingers feel as cold as ice, Miss Howard!” The rough impatience in his voice stiffened her spine, even as he added, “Here, let me fasten the clasp for you. I suppose you’re used to having your maid perform such tasks, although you might remind her the next time to be more careful…”

      With her precious bracelet fastened safely about her wrist once again, sheer relief if nothing else made Alexa say snappishly: “I do not have a maid who waits on me hand and foot, and I am not so helpless as to expect someone else to clasp a bracelet about my wrist! And besides, I do not possess many pieces of jewelry either!”

      “No? But what a pity! Although I’m quite sure that you soon will have if you follow all the rules and catch yourself a wealthy husband who will be able to provide you with every luxury you might desire.”

      “Catch? What a denigrating word! And why, pray, do you imagine that I should need to catch myself a husband? I am sure that if it comes to that there will be more than enough men who would want to catch me for me to choose from when the time comes!”

      “Ah! A flash of honesty at last!” Alexa could almost sense the lift of one patronizing black brow. “But it’s very wise of you, moon maid, to let them do the chasing, without committing yourself too soon. It puts the price up as well, although I don’t mean to sound crude.”

      “But of course you did. And far from being in the least honest yourself you’re a hypocrite, which is even worse. And…” Alexa’s unruly tongue ran away with her as her volatile temper passed boiling point, and she almost spat out the ultimate insult that he had taught her. “You’re…Why, you bastard!”

      “You certainly pick things up quickly, I see,” he drawled aggravatingly. “And don’t think you’d get away with going for me with those sharp little claws of yours, because I can move faster than you can and as you’ve already surmised I’m not your usual polite gentleman—I don’t possess too many scruples either.”

      “You’ve certainly made that much quite obvious, haven’t you?” Breathing deeply, Alexa made an attempt at icy coldness, although her voice still shook slightly. “And you’re a cruel man as well. I think you enjoy fixing others on the sharp pins of your ridicule and your sarcasm, just to watch them squirm. Well, if I’ve provided you with enough sport for one evening I should like to be escorted back to my aunt, if you please. I am not enjoying myself—or your company either.”

      “No? But then, since I am a bastard, why should I let that make any difference to me?” Suddenly, the mockery in his voice deepened to harshness as he added, “And that, little virgin bitch-goddess, is why I intend to claim my forfeit for returning that precious bracelet of yours before I return you to your tía dueña!”

      Without warning he had grasped her roughly by the shoulders; his fingers pressing into her flesh as he bent her backward against the railing; and during those first few instants Alexa thought fearfully that he meant to break her in two. And then his lips descended over hers with all the fierceness of an eagle swooping on its prey, cutting off her breath along with her reason, so that for some moments she actually thought that he meant to kill her as Othello had killed Desdemona—with a punishing kiss.

      Was it only terror that held her still after her first, shamefully brief attempt to tear herself free? Alexa felt her head fall helplessly back against his arm as he forced her lips apart to explore her mouth, and almost instinctively she raised her arms, meaning to beat against him with her fists before it—the same strange thing that had happened to her before—seemed to take hold of her. That frightening, helpless feeling as if all her bones were melting and running together, so that she could hardly stand and needed to hold on to him for support. Heat—suddenly flooding through her to make her face, her breasts, her whole body burn and tingle as if she had a fever that had rendered her mindless and incapable of resisting either him or her own worse instincts. She felt the rippling movement of the muscles in his back, even under the jacket he wore, and remembered without shame how he had looked naked—the feel of his flesh under her hands. And now her fingers touched his hair, wanting on their own to memorize its texture; and if she didn’t know what she was doing or why, she wasn’t sane enough to care at that moment. Not even when he brushed his fingers gently and teasingly down from her temple and along the arch of her neck—and even further down to touch her breasts, seeming to burn through the stuff of her gown and knowing exactly where to linger.

      Why was she encumbered by so many layers of clothing anyhow? Alexa realized suddenly, or rather her body did, that she wanted the feel of his fingers against her skin, touching her everywhere, not stopping. No thinking to cloud this surge of pure, primitive feeling. She felt like a pitch-soaked torch, suddenly ignited and flaring into brilliant life; and yet at the same time she had no real understanding of why she felt so, or what it meant, or even of where such feelings might lead her. She had not even asked herself why she had so recklessly allowed herself to be carried beyond caution and carefully set boundaries as her body arched eagerly and almost fiercely against his and the sea-murmuring in her ears was the sound of their breathing, his and hers, as he held her and took her even more closely against himself until Alexa could almost feel that she was melting into him. Melting—dissolving…

      It was Nicholas, in the end, who broke away; firmly disengaging her clinging arms from about his neck while he cursed himself for having allowed himself to be goaded into yielding to a wildly irrational impulse. Christ! He, at least, was certainly old enough to have known better and to have thought of the possible consequences. What if someone else had decided to come out here for a breath of the cool night air and had seen them? Unfairly enough, it would have been her reputation that would have been ruined, and he had neither reason nor any right to do that to her, after all.

      She was staring up at him in a dazed fashion, her eyes wide and uncomprehending, her mouth…But he had better not start thinking along those lines again, Nicholas warned himself grimly. She was passionate, and obviously manready, as he had already gauged; and he could not prevent himself from almost regretting that he could not be the one who would take her for the first time, making her like it. But she’d probably end up marrying some clumsy oaf who wouldn’t take the time or the trouble to discover what a prize he had; and in the end she’d turn cold and hard, substituting expensive trinkets, which could be shown off, for feeling and emotion. For all that she seemed to be possessed of a daring and adventurous spirit now, there was no doubt that in the end she would be made to conform and would turn out exactly like all the other young women of her class and background.

      Poor, pretty, ingenuous Alexa! A mixture of both pity and regret made his voice unusually gentle as he touched her face and was not able to resist lightly tracing the contour of her soft lips with one finger.

      “Dammit, I suppose I should tell you how sorry I am for having allowed myself to get carried away; but that would be hypocritical, for I thoroughly enjoyed kissing you and I would have liked even better to have been able to make love to you, little moon maid. But I suppose that would have created quite a scandal, and I’m not as completely devoid of scruples as you accused me of being.”

      “Stop it! Stop talking down to me as if I’m a child, even after you…Yes, you are a hypocrite of the worst kind, Señor de la Guerra, and I wish…I wish…No, don’t!” Alexa’s shaking voice suddenly became fierce, warning him to silence. “There is really no need for you to explain, or to say anything more. I think you proved whatever it was you meant to prove quite well, didn’t you? And I suppose I should be grateful to you for being so instructive in showing me the dangers of giving way to weakness. I shall certainly be much more careful and less trusting in future, I assure you! And now do you mind if we went back inside before my aunt begins to worry?”