Tall, Dark... Collection. Carole Mortimer

for what had transpired…?

      Neither of which was acceptable to Hawk.

      His hands moved to cradle each of her cheeks as he tilted her face towards him. ‘Look at me, Jane,’he ordered firmly, when she kept her lids determinedly closed. ‘Jane!’ he rasped impatiently as she did not immediately comply.

      Jane bit down painfully on the trembling of her bottom lip as she resolutely kept her lids closed. ‘I think it would be best if you left me now, Your Grace—’

      ‘How dare you attempt to put a distance between us by addressing me in that cold, distant way?’ he cut in fiercely. ‘Jane, you will look at me now!’ His hands moved to her shoulders, digging into the softness of her flesh as he shook her.

      How could she possibly look at him ever again? How could she bear to look into his face—the hard, arrogant face that she loved—and see the disappointment, the disgust that must be written there as he recalled her wanton writhings as she pleaded with him to pleasure her?

      ‘Look at me, Jane!’ Hawk demanded again harshly, as he sensed that inwardly she was withdrawing even further away from him.

      Minutes ago he would have sworn that Jane had wanted his attentions, his caresses, but now he doubted that certainty. Jane could not even bear look at him—as if the very sight of him repulsed her.

      Had Jane merely acquiesced to his kisses, the intimacy of his caresses, because she had not been strong enough to deny him? Or, worse, because she felt beholden to him for aiding her escape when she could no longer tolerate Lady Sulby’s cruelty?

      The thought that that might be the case filled Hawk himself with revulsion.

      He released her abruptly to sit up on the chaise, his face turned away as he stared sightlessly into the flames of the fire which minutes ago had bathed Jane’s nakedness so seductively.

      Had he forced his attentions on Jane? Had Jane surrendered to the Duke of Stourbridge because she’d felt she had to, rather than to Hawk the man because she desired him as fiercely as he desired her?

      Oh, yes, Jane challenged, thwarted and disobeyed him when it suited her, but had she felt unable to do so just now? The very force of his desire having alarmed her into submission?

      He was sure that had to be the case when he recalled how distantly she had addressed him as ‘Your Grace’, immediately after his caressing hands had brought her to a climax it must now shock and revolt her to recall.

      His expression was grim as he stood up abruptly to pull on his rumpled shirt, his back towards Jane as he refastened the buttons with fingers that were not quite steady. ‘I believe it best if I leave you, after all, Jane,’ he rasped harshly.

      Jane had taken advantage of Hawk’s distraction to pull her chemise back into some sort of order, wincing slightly as the material brushed against breasts that were still achingly sensitised from his ministrations, between her thighs was even more so.

      She stared up at the rigid implacability of Hawk’s back, at the silkiness of his dark, gold-shot hair brushing the collar of his shirt in unaccustomed disarray—a fact he seemed aware of too, as he pushed impatient fingers through the mahogany darkness before pulling on his waistcoat and jacket and turning to face her.

      Jane almost recoiled from the fierceness of his expression. His mouth was a thin, uncompromising line above his clenched jaw, and those golden eyes glittered coldly as he looked down his long, arrogant nose at her. Every trace of the indulgently attentive lover had now disappeared from his harshly etched features.

      But she refused to allow herself to show weakness. Her nature was such that she refused to be cowed by anyone—least of all the arrogant Duke of Stourbridge. ‘By all means return to your sister’s guests, Your Grace,’ she told him lightly as she swung her legs to the floor and sat up on the chaise. ‘But I trust you will understand if I do not join you?’ She quirked mocking brows.

      She knew she should pick up her gown—her beautiful gown of cream silk which had been thrown aside so uncaringly only minutes ago!—and cover her semi-nakedness, but the stubbornly proud part of her nature refused to let her do so. Minutes ago Hawk had seen her in all her naked glory, making it far too late for her to act like an innocent miss now.

      Even if that was what she was.

      Or had been…

      Jane was sure she would never be completely innocent ever again now that Hawk had introduced her to such a world of physical intimacy and pleasure.

      She forced herself to meet his imperiously haughty gaze. ‘Would you please tell Arabella that I have retired to my room with a headache?’ Her voice was husky, the headache she had just mentioned actually becoming a reality as Hawk’s face darkened ominously at her words. ‘I think it better if we do not return to the house together after such a long absence,’ she added.

      Hawk knew that the gossips present tonight would be sure to make much of the fact that although Jane had left the ballroom earlier in the company of the Earl of Whitney it was on the arm of the Duke of Stourbridge that she returned some time later. And he had already caused Jane enough distress for one evening without adding the ruination of her reputation in Society to his list of crimes. As it was, his return and Jane’s absence were sure to be noted.

      He nodded abruptly. ‘I will make your excuses to Arabella. But do not remain out here alone for too long, Jane,’ he continued harshly. ‘I was not the only man attracted by your beauty this evening,’ he added, with a disapproval he had no control over.

      Her eyes widened briefly before her gaze became mocking. ‘I do believe that one lover in an evening is more than enough for any woman!’

      His mouth tightened at the mere thought of Jane ever sharing of her lush beauty with any man but himself. It was unacceptable. Insupportable. Unbearable.

      She belonged to him, damn it!

      His jaw clenched. ‘If it really is your wish to avoid being seen again this evening, then I suggest that you go to your room by way of the back stairs.’

      Like one of the servants, Jane acknowledged dully. But was that not what she was? Here on sufferance only? As a temporary companion to Lady Arabella?

      And as occasional lover of the powerful Duke of Stourbridge…?

      Her chin rose proudly. ‘I think not, Hawk.’Her tone was coldly dismissive as she deliberately used his given name. ‘I have no intention of behaving in the manner of a serving girl returning to her room after an illicit tryst with the master of the house!’ she added, as he frowned darkly.

      His face darkened ominously. ‘I do not think of you as a servant, Jane—’

      ‘Then do not suggest that I behave like one!’

      As was usual for them, Hawk acknowledged grimly, they were arguing now they were not caught in the throes of physical desire. But for Jane to even suggest that he thought of her in the same terms as one of the maids at Mulberry Hall was utterly ridiculous. Utterly provoking!

      His mouth twisted grimly. ‘I believe you were the one to suggest that as your given role, Jane. Not I.’

      Her eyes sparked with temper. ‘You implied it, Your Grace,’ she snapped.

      ‘No, Jane, I did not,’ he sighed. ‘But who am I to argue with a woman when she has made her mind up to something?’ he added grimly.

      Her eyes glittered. ‘You are the arrogant Duke of Stourbridge!’

      ‘Undoubtedly,’he drawled, with an acknowledging inclination of his head, absolutely positive that Jane was trying to provoke an argument with him. Another argument with him…‘I believe, Jane, that we will resume this conversation when you are feeling less argumentative.’

      ‘And I believe we will not!’ Jane snapped, as she stood up to begin pulling on her gown.

      Hawk’s breath caught in his throat as he watched, stood transfixed at her