Lady Beneath the Veil. Sarah Mallory

door he would catch her. She threw up her head.

      ‘I demand you let me go back downstairs.’

      ‘Ho, demand, do you? What about those wifely vows you took, to honour and obey?’

      ‘Worthless. Now will you let me go?’

      ‘Never.’

      He towered over her, sparking a tiny frisson of unease as she realised she was now in the very situation she had been trying to avoid. However, her temper was up and she was not daunted by his superior height and strength.

      ‘I refuse to sleep in that bed.’

      ‘That may be so, but you are not leaving this room again tonight.’

      She took a step back, glaring up at him as she folded her arms across her chest. As she did so she felt the solid line of the letter opener against her left forearm. She pulled it out with a triumphant flourish.

      ‘What the devil are you going to do with that?’

      ‘Stab you with it, if you don’t get out of my way.’

      * * *

      Gideon stared at her.

      ‘Good God, madam, anyone would think I intended to ravish you, instead of offering you the most comfortable bed in the house.’

      He wished he hadn’t used the word ravish, it brought all sorts of unhelpful connotations to his mind as she stood before him, breasts heaving and eyes flashing fire. Her hair had come loose in the struggle and now fell in a dusky cloud to her shoulders. The desire he had felt earlier stirred again, only stronger. He reminded himself he was a gentleman and should retire now, before it was too late. But she was still defying him, brandishing the letter opener like a sword, and that was a challenge he could not resist.

      ‘Step aside,’ she ordered him. ‘Let me return to the parlour.’

      ‘The devil I will.’

      ‘I—I will stab you if you get in my way.’

      He threw his arms wide.

      ‘Stab away.’

      His taunt brought a blaze of anger to her eyes again and with a shriek she launched herself at him. He grabbed her wrist. The letter opener was not that sharp and he doubted it would do much damage, but she seemed intent upon attacking him and he was damned if he was going to allow that. She was surprisingly strong. He twisted her wrist and she dropped the weapon, but immediately she sank her teeth into his hand.

      ‘Ouch! You little termagant!’ He wrestled her backwards on to the bed, pinning her wrists above her head. ‘Will you stop fighting like a wildcat?’

      She continued to struggle and he was obliged to use the weight of his body to hold her down and prevent her flailing legs from kicking him.

      ‘Let me go!’

      ‘Not if you are going to scratch my eyes out. Stop it!’ She ceased struggling and glared up at him, the gold braid on her bodice glinting with the rise and fall of her breast. ‘That’s better.’

      He, too, was breathing heavily, but he recognised it was not just exertion. The feel of her body beneath him was exciting him almost beyond reason. He smiled and earned for his troubles a smouldering look that sent the blood pounding faster through his body. He was lying between her legs, crushing her skirts against the bed, and for one searing moment he imagined what it would be like if her thighs were pressed against his, skin on skin rather than separated by numerous layers of cloth.

      ‘That reminds me.’ His voice seemed very distant and slightly unsteady. ‘I have not yet kissed the bride.’

      He told himself he was teasing her, punishing her just a little more. She watched him from those huge eyes. Large and dark, unfathomable pools, dragging him down. His gaze moved to her mouth.

      Better stop this now, before it gets out of hand.

      Too late. The pink tip of her tongue flickered nervously across her lips and he could not resist lowering his head to capture her mouth. It was a swift, hard kiss and she trembled beneath him. Immediately he drew back.

      * * *

      Dominique took a quick, shuddering breath. That was the last straw. Her blood was up, she had been aware of a sharp exultation when she had flown at him with the paperknife in her hand and her heart was still pounding from the ensuing tussle. He had overpowered her, of course, but she was not beaten. She told herself she would never give in, even with his body pressing down upon hers she felt herself stronger, not weaker, as sensations she could not explain took control of her body. She felt alive, buzzing with energy, ready to fight him again. Then he had closed the distance between them, his mouth finding her parted lips and taking possession. Her body responded with a shudder of desire that shocked and startled her. A longing, a need she could not control was unleashed—she wanted him as she had never wanted anyone, or anything, before.

      It was a shock to realise she would sell her soul to the devil for one night with Gideon Albury, and what did it matter? Her reputation was ruined, whatever happened, so why should she not have one glorious night to remember? He was easing himself away. In another moment he would be lost to her forever.

      * * *

      ‘I beg your pardon,’ he muttered, releasing her hands. ‘I should not—’

      Gideon broke off in surprise as she reached up and clutched at his neckcloth. She pulled him close and began to kiss him, a little inexpertly, but with such eagerness that desire lanced through him. He was lost. It was as if someone had opened the floodgates and a torrent of passion poured forth, carrying all before it.

      Clothes were hurriedly discarded, buttons torn off in their haste to disrobe and all the while they strove to continue those heady, desperate kisses that kept all coherent thought at bay. Gideon lifted her easily on to the cool silk covers of the bed and measured his naked length against her. She clung to him, eager for his touch, returning his embraces with a fervour that more than matched his own. She cried out as he entered her, but when he hesitated she pulled him to her, claiming his mouth, tangling her tongue with his and leaving him in no doubt that she wanted to continue the hot, passionate coupling that carried them on to a heady, exhilarating climax and left them both panting and exhausted.

      * * *

      Dominique woke up when the fire was dying down and the night air cooling her skin. She lifted one hand to her head, trying to make sense of where she was and what had happened. She remembered dining with Gideon, then arguing with him and finally, when he had laid hands on her—understandably, since she was trying to stab him—she had wanted nothing more than to cling on to him forever. It was as if she had been possessed, filled with desire that must be satisfied. She ran a hand over her body. It felt no different, yet everything had changed. She was no longer a virgin.

      She tried to examine her feelings about that and about the naked man sleeping beside her. She felt numb. It was as if there was some great unhappy void ahead of her that she dare not face just yet. Perhaps in the morning she would be able to make sense of it all. For now her main concern was to get warm. She slid between the covers. The hot bricks so thoughtfully supplied were gone. They had fallen out on to the floor at some point, unnoticed, and the sheets were cold.

      Her movements disturbed Gideon and he followed her under the covers, silently pulling her close. She could not deny the comfort of his warm limbs wrapped around her. Nothing mattered when she was in his arms. Tomorrow. She would think about it all tomorrow. She closed her eyes and, as she was drifting away into sleep, she felt his breath against her cheek, heard him whisper one word.

      ‘Dominique.’

      Chapter Four

      The early morning sunshine was just peeping into the bedchamber when Dominique opened her eyes again. She was alone in the canopied bed. Soon she would have to get up and face the day—and Gideon—but for now she lay very still and allowed the memories to flood back. Perhaps she had