Lord of Scoundrels - Loretta Chase [58]
Jessica supposed that, in Dain's Dictionary, this qualified as an expression of concern.
"I did not do it on purpose," she said. "You have no idea what it's like under Aunt Louisa's roof. She conducts wedding preparations as generals conduct warfare. The household has been in pitched battle since the day we arrived. I could leave them to fight it out among themselves, but I should not care for the result— and you would detest it. My aunt's taste is appalling. Which means I have no choice but to be involved, night and day. Then, because it takes all my will and energy to maintain control, I'm too tired and vexed to eat a proper meal— even if the servants were capable of making one, which they aren't, because she's worn them to a frazzle, too."
There was a short silence. Then, "Well," he said, shifting a bit in his place, as though he were not altogether comfortable.
"You told me I should hire help," she said. "What good will that do, when she'll interfere with them as well? I shall still be involved— and driven— "
"Yes, yes, I understand," he said. "She's bothering you. I'll make her stop. You should have told me before."
She smoothed her gloves. "Until now, I was unaware you had any inclinations to slay dragons for me."
"I don't," he said. "But one must be practical. You'll want all your strength for the wedding night."
"I cannot think why I should need strength," she said, ignoring a host of spine-tingling images rising in her mind's eye. "All I have to do is lie there."
"Naked," he said grimly.
"Truly?" She shot him a glance from under her lashes. "Well, if I must, I must, for you have the advantage of experience in these matters. Still, I do wish you'd told me sooner. I should not have put the modiste to so much trouble about the negligee."
"The what?"
"It was ghastly expensive," she said, "but the silk is as fine as gossamer, and the eyelet work about the neckline is exquisite. Aunt Louisa was horrified. She said only Cyprians wear such things, and it leaves nothing to the imagination."
Jessica heard him suck in his breath, felt the muscular thigh tense against hers.
"But if it were left to Aunt Louisa," she went on, "I should be covered from my chin to my toes in thick cotton ruffled white monstrosities with little pink bows and rosebuds. Which is absurd, when an evening gown reveals far more, not to mention— "
"What color?" he asked. His low voice had roughened.
"Wine red," she said. "With narrow black ribbons threaded through the neckline. Here." She traced a plunging U over her bosom. "And there's the loveliest openwork over my…well, here." She drew her finger over the curve of her breast a bare inch above the nipple. "And openwork on the right side of the skirt. From here"— she pointed to her hip— "down to the hem. And I bought— "
"Jess." Her name was a strangled whisper.
"— slippers to match," she continued. "Black mules with— "
"Jess." In one furious flurry of motion, he threw down the reins and hauled her into his lap.
The movement startled the horses, who tossed their heads and snorted and commenced an agitated dance. "Stop it!" Dain said sharply. They stilled.
His powerful right arm tightened round Jessica's waist and he pulled her close.
It was like sitting in the throbbing heat of a furnace: Brick-hard and hot, his body pulsed with tension. He slid his hand down over her hip and clasped her thigh.
She looked up. He was scowling malevolently at his big, gloved hand. "You," he growled. "Plague take you."
She tilted her head back. "I'll return it, if you wish. The nightgown."
His furious black gaze moved up, to her mouth. His breathing was harsh. "No, you won't," he said.
Then his mouth, hard and hungry, fell upon hers, dragging over her lips as though to punish her.
But what Jessica tasted was victory. She felt it in the heat he couldn't disguise, and in the pulsing tension of his frame, and she heard it clear as any declaration when his tongue pushed impatiently