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"I don't know," she whispered.
He stepped closer.
"Don't you?" he asked, and she had the insane thought that he was
about to kiss her.
The cough behind them broke the spell. They jerked apart, Claire's
face crimson, when she saw the boatman.
"What is it?" Jack asked brusquely. He straightened the sleeves of
his coat.
"Milady asked me to deliver this message." The boatman held out a
folded paper.
Jack took it, a hint of colour still apparent on his cheekbones. He
quickly scanned the contents, then looked at Claire, a slight frown on
his face.
"My grandmother arrived earlier and decided to cross without us. We're
to meet her in the supper box."
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"Oh." Claire tried to keep the dismay from her voice. Whatever was
wrong with her? Jack surely hadn't been planning to kiss her. But why
did he look as flustered as she felt? Perhaps he was as eager as she
was to have his grandmother act as a shield from the odd tension that
lately seemed to rise between them.
The boatman cleared his throat again.
"The boat is ready, milord, if you'll be wanting it."
"Boat? Of course." Jack started, then turned towards Claire.
"Shall we leave?"
He held out his arm. She placed her fingers on his coat sleeve, trying
to recover her sanity as they headed towards the water.
"Claire, we're here." He caught her arm, pulling her to a halt as she
continued forward.
She blinked and realised another dozen steps would have put her in the
river.
"Oh."
"Daydreaming again?"
"I was merely thinking."
He helped her into one of the boats, then took his place across from
her.
"Most visitors to Vauxhall prefer to take the bridge but I thought you
might like the sculls instead," he said.
"It is lovely."
She gave him a swift smile, beginning to relax a little. A light
breeze brushed her cheek. The mellow rays of the evening sun shimmered
on the peaceful river. Another scull had pushed off, occupied by a
noisy family who clearly intended to enjoy themselves.
He smiled back at her and this time she didn't avert her eyes. The
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harmony was broken as the boatman pushed off. Startled, Claire grabbed
the side of the boat.
Jack noticed her apprehension.
"There's no need to worry. I promise you we won't overturn." Then his
eyes danced in the old way she remembered.
"And if we should happen to I'm here to rescue you."
"You would?"
"Of course, my sweet. In fact, I think I might quite enjoy it. A
chance to hold you in my arms, have you at my mercy." He grinned
wickedly.
Claire stole a glance at the boatman, her face flushed. Despite the
fact that the man seemed oblivious, she was certain he listened to
every word.
"Jack, stop it!" Then her face heated when she realised his name had
slipped out.
His grin broadened.
"Jack? Does this mean you've finally forgiven me?"
"It means nothing at all."
"I think it does." The smug look of male satisfaction made her want to
wipe the grin from his face. Perhaps she should tip the boat into the
water after all. She lifted her chin and looked away without
answering.
"So our truce is in effect?"
She turned to look at him.
"What truce?"
"The one we declared. In your drawing-room. Do you remember? We
sealed it with a kiss."
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"I did not kiss you!"
"But I kissed you--at least your hand." His voice held a low, sensuous
quality that made a chaste kiss on the hand sound as intimate as if
he'd actually kissed her mouth.
Another boat glided by, followed by a second boat filled with a
boisterous, noisy party of men. By the time the noise settled, they
had reached the grounds of Vaux- hall. Jack helped her out, his hand
lingering far too long on her waist.
He paid the boatman and then took her arm. He refused to release his
grip as they slowly made their way from the river towards the entrance
of the pleasure gardens.
Claire finally spoke.
"Really, must you hold my arm so tightly? I am not a prisoner you are
leading to the Tower."
"No. But you are my prisoner for the night."
She looked up at him.
"I am not a prisoner."
He lifted a dark brow.
"I got the impression you consider yourself here under duress. So that
makes you a prisoner of sorts."
"Do you always find it necessary to blackmail women into coming to
Vauxhall with you?" Claire was desperately trying to find some way of
pushing him back into the cool, remote lord he'd been since the
lottery. The wicked gleam in his eyes and the sensuous way they roamed
over her were doing peculiar things to her.
"No, not always. Just on occasion. But they usually find that being
in my power is quite pleasurable."
"Do they? I dare say they are all rattlebrains or you... you drugged
them."
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He stopped then and turned to look down at her.
"I always choose very intelligent women, and I never resort to very
foul methods," he said softly. Apparently oblivious to the fact they
were not quite alone, he ran a hand down her cheek, coming to cup her
chin, tilting her face towards him. His dark eyes seemed to mesmerise
her, and she had the mad desire to close her eyes and sway against
him.
She backed away, horrified by her reaction.
"Don't! Please don't!"
Jack dropped his hand, staring at her.
"Claire? What the devil's wrong?"
She backed away from him.
"No... nothing. I don't like being touched like that!"
Something flickered in his eyes. His expression cooled.
"I may have the devil of a reputation, but I assure you I don't ravish
unwilling women, my dear. You are quite safe."
She looked at him helplessly. She had somehow managed to offend him
again.
"Oh, no! I really did not mean--1 know you will not hurt me." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]