Affair of Honor (13 page)

“Maybe you’ve got it all backward. Perhaps he’s the one who sounds like me,” Ryder taunted softly.

“Well, I’m not the sexy, beautiful redhead in
The Quicksilver Venture
! I don’t intend to let myself be swept off my feet by a tough-talking macho type who thinks that because he wants a woman she should immediately surrender herself, body and soul!”

The only response to that was a casually raised eyebrow. It had the horrifying effect of bringing a warm flush into Brenna’s face. She already
had
surrendered herself once. How could she deny it? Brenna drew herself very straight, her head lifted proudly.

“I can see there’s not much point in continuing this discussion. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to the cabin. It’s been one hell of an interesting day, I assure you!”

Whirling in the sand, Brenna started for the safety of the pines and her own cabin. She refused to give in to the inclination to run. Not for the world would she allow him to think she was afraid of him! At twenty-nine she was not about to admit to fear of any man. Disgust, disdain, and irritation, perhaps, but not fear!

“Brenna.”

Her name was the quiet, snaking coil of a whip. It spun through the air behind her, reaching out and circling to bind her as it settled about her body with almost tangible force. Brenna wanted to run from it but she knew she couldn’t. Slowly she halted and turned to face the man who had managed to make the single word a command.

For a long, tense moment they stood staring across the distance between them, each one assessing the other. Brenna felt the palms of her hands grow damp with the force of the conflicting emotions coursing through her.

“Don’t give me orders, Ryder.”

“I haven’t issued any orders. I only called your name,” he said quietly.

But it had been an order and they both knew it; one she couldn’t deny because it demanded that she have the courage to stand and deal with the threat and the challenge in him.

Without a word he started toward her slowly. “Don’t be afraid of me,” he growled deeply. “Don’t be afraid of yourself.”

She watched him come closer and wished she could run. But she couldn’t, and there was no point thinking about it. “Ryder, I won’t let you seduce me,” she whispered.

“No,” he agreed, halting a pace away.

She tried again. “I’m…I’m sorry about what happened last night, about the way you interpreted it.”

“I’m not.”

“Please, don’t tease me!”

“No,” he agreed again.

“Are you angry?”

“A little provoked,” he temporized dryly.

Brenna lifted a hand, feeling helpless. “What are you going to do?”

“Keep pressing my claim until you acknowledge it,” he told her calmly.

“Is that a threat?”

“No threats. I won’t be back in your bed until you invite me.”

Surely that was safe enough, Brenna told herself. She could trust this man. With that thought came another, more impulsive one. She felt compelled to tell him that last night had meant something to her even though she didn’t want to be bound by the commitment he was invoking. It was an incredibly difficult thing to say, Brenna discovered.

“Ryder, about last night…”

“Let the subject of last night rest,” he said tersely.

“Why?” she demanded in sudden annoyance. “Because we can’t agree on what it meant?”

“You know what it meant. You just don’t want to admit it. Not yet.”

“But you think I will in time?” she challenged.

“We’d better let that subject rest, too.” He held out his hand. “Would you like to come over to my place for a sundown drink, dinner, and a little philosophical conversation?” He smiled in whimsical invitation.

She hesitated suspiciously, knowing she was longing to accept the offered hand. The longing and the wariness in her were creating an unbearable tension, she realized. Her fingers quivered slightly as she slowly accepted his hand in a small surrender.

“All right, Ryder. Thank you.” There was a sense of relief in the way his fingers closed warmly around hers. She took a steadying breath and then declared, unable to resist, “I still say you should never have struck Damon. Violence is never the answer!”

A slow grin sliced across his tanned features, a knife blade of a grin. “I disagree. It can be satisfyingly decisive at times! You must occasionally crave for something decisive in your life after dealing with all those endless questions of philosophy.”

He started back toward the cabins with her in tow, ignoring her withering glance. “What are you going to do about your job situation?” he asked after a moment.

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. Damon is very influential. He’s sure to be next in line for the position of head of the department. After the way I insulted him this morning, I can probably assume I’ve burned my bridges at the college.” Brenna caught her lower lip between her teeth as she considered that. What a mess. The worst of it was that she couldn’t determine how she felt about it.

“My decking him probably didn’t aid your cause any,” Ryder muttered laconically. “Will he fire you or get you fired?”

“I don’t think he could do that but…” She let the sentence trail off.

“But he could make life difficult for you on the faculty, right?”

It was the truth. “Yes.”

There was a small pause while Ryder appeared to be searching for the words he wanted. “The important thing is that you don’t really love him, Brenna,” he finally announced forcefully.

“You think love is a sloppy, sentimental emotion, remember? Since you don’t have much respect for it yourself, you’re hardly in a position to tell me whether or not I’m in love!”

“Take my word for it,” he retorted sardonically. “You’re not in love with Damon Fielding. You would never have gone to bed with me last night if you loved him!”

Brenna shook her head, abandoning what was sure to be a fruitless argument. Ryder was too certain of himself and of her. As for herself, Brenna couldn’t seem to view her feelings toward Damon with any objectivity today. Ryder had occupied her thoughts from the moment she’d awakened in the empty bed, and it was Ryder who had set the pace for the strange day.

It was easier during this time of uncertainty about her future to simply put the whole subject out of her mind and let Ryder continue to guide the evening. It was, she admitted privately, an unusual way for her to behave. Brenna Llewellyn couldn’t even remember the last time in her life when she had allowed someone else to direct the course of events. She had known where she was going, been aware of her responsibilities, and felt the obligations of her duty to her career and her brother for so long that any other way of responding seemed abnormal.

But definitely easier for the time being, Brenna reflected a few hours later as she sat curled deep in the corner of the sofa in front of Ryder’s fireplace. Much easier. She had spent the day sidestepping her problems, and the technique had some definite attractions. She smiled a little ruefully to herself as she sipped the excellent brandy and gazed into the flames.

The conversation all evening had been about philosophy and the characters in Ryder’s books. Brenna had been drawn comfortably into the folds of the conversation, giving herself up to the safety of it with pleasure and undeniable relief. There had been no more talk of her career or of the claim Ryder was making, and over the past few hours she had finally relaxed.

At the opposite end of the sofa Ryder raised his brandy snifter in a small, intimate salute.

“To another perfect evening.”

Brenna’s lips curved as she turned her head to look at him. Her state of relaxation gave her the courage to tease now about a matter she would not have dared to bait him with a few hours earlier. “Perfect? Even though you’ll be sleeping in your own bed tonight?”

As soon as she spoke the words Brenna regretted the impulse to tease. It was the first time the conversation had come back to sex all evening and she wished she hadn’t been the one to bring it up now.

“My own bed,” Ryder repeated thoughtfully. “There’s nothing wrong with my bed. At least there are no stairs to climb.” He hesitated long enough to catch her full attention. “Will I be sleeping alone in my bed, Brenna?”

Her head came up with a challenging movement. The room seemed suddenly very warm to Brenna. Keep it light, she told herself firmly. Keep it light.

“Don’t worry, Ryder. You’re safe enough tonight. I won’t be seducing you.”

“I’ve always had a certain reckless streak,” he informed her gently. “Some forms of safety just don’t appeal. I think you share the same brand of recklessness, Brenna Llewellyn.” Very deliberately he sat up and placed his snifter on the brass-bound trunk in front of the sofa.

Brenna saw the waiting trap in the silver eyes and felt her pulse quicken. In fear or desire?

“You said you would wait,” she reminded him, her voice a thread of sound.

“For an invitation,” he agreed with a nod, making no move.

“There isn’t going to be an invitation.” But her fingers were trembling and she had to set down her snifter.

“No?” He put out a hand and traced a tiny design along the line of her throat. The erotic little caress made her catch her breath. The gold in Brenna’s eyes was suddenly very warm. “Can you bring yourself to deny either of us tonight what we found last night?”

“Have you been seducing me with the philosophy and the brandy all night?” she tried to ask flippantly.

“No, you’ve been seducing me again,” he whispered throatily. “Talking to you is a seduction in itself, lady. Don’t you know that?”

With an effort of will Brenna got to her feet. “I think I’d better go, Ryder,” she murmured. “Good night. Thank you for dinner.” Wrenching her gaze away from his, she tried to snap the bonds settling around her. But every step toward the door was like a step through quicksand.

He was behind her, soft and silent and all leashed masculine power, when she put her hand on the doorknob.

“I have to go, Ryder.” She stared down at her fingers as they tightened fiercely around the knob.

“I’m not stopping you.”

“Damn it!” She looked up furiously. “You’re not helping, either!”

“That would be asking too much, lady,” he drawled very gently. “Far too much.”

She wrenched open the door and came to a halt on the threshold, glaring out into the dark shadows. What did she want tonight? Surely she could not take the risk of letting this man make love to her again. Where was her common sense? Where was the rational, logical side of her nature when she needed it?

“Ryder, I can’t stay tonight,” she began tightly, whirling to face him. “But about last night. I want you to know…oh!”

When she swung around on the threshold, he was right behind her. She hadn’t heard the step that brought him so close, but when she turned he was there and his arms came around her as she collided with the hard, compelling planes of his chest. Wordlessly she stood in the circle of his embrace, eyes very wide and questioning as she looked up into his taut features. She saw the hungry longing in him and couldn’t move.

“Last night,” he said very gently, “was perfect. Tonight will be perfect, too.”

He swung her off her feet and into his arms. Turning, he kicked the door closed behind them and carried Brenna back toward the warmth of the fire.

R
yder lowered himself to the sofa with Brenna across his thighs. For a long moment he simply cradled her close. She nestled her head against his shoulder, aware of his lips hovering near her hair. He wanted her. She could feel the power of the hunger in him and knew the surge of desire in herself. It was easy, far too easy, to simply suspend all thought and give herself up to the night and the man who held her.

“Well, lady?” he prodded with carefully controlled urgency. “Do I get my invitation?”

“I thought you were inviting yourself.” She lifted her lashes and raised a fingertip to toy with the curl of tawny hair on his neck.

“You’ll have to say the words. I don’t want there to be any question in your mind.”

“About who is seducing whom?” she mocked softly.

“Exactly.”

She felt the tension within and sought for a way out. “Ryder, I don’t want the responsibility tonight. All day long I have been avoiding decisions about the important things in my life, and I don’t want to make any decisions tonight. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” he surprised her by saying. “You want me to make this particular decision. You want me to assume the responsibility for both of us.”

She flinched. “That makes me very weak, doesn’t it?”

“It makes you very vulnerable.” He smiled crookedly, threading a hand through the dark chocolate of her hair and loosening the strands. “Are you sure you’re ready to trust me to make the right choice? You must know I’m already convinced we belong together tonight.”

“Don’t talk to me about it,” she cried softly. “I don’t want to think about all the rational implications!”

“All right, sweet lady,” he crooned, feathering her ear with his tongue. “Just remember in the morning that you turned all the responsibility over to me tonight.”

Brenna didn’t say anything; she couldn’t. She relaxed against him with a small sigh of desire as the caress on her ear became damp and warm and teasing. Yes, it was much easier this way. She luxuriated in the sensation of being safe and warm and wanted.

Abandoning herself to the enthralling illusion being spun around her, Brenna moved her palm lovingly down Ryder’s cheek to his throat. There she found the first of the buttons on his shirt and set about unfastening them. His breath fanned her ear and his hand slid up from her waist to seek out the shape of her breast.

“Ryder,” she said on a long sigh as his thumb and forefinger coaxed forth the tight bud of her nipple beneath the fabric of her shirt. “Oh, Ryder…”

“You feel so right, so good in my hands,” he whispered huskily as he undid the buttons of her shirt and moved his hand inside to cup the breast he had been teasing. “Thank you, sweet lady, for turning the decisions over to me tonight. You won’t regret it.”

Brenna, who didn’t understand exactly what he was talking about, ignored the words and moved her lips tenderly to his throat as he traced patterns of desire across her breasts. She stirred as the delicious sensual tension began to build inside her and gloried in the evidence of his own rising passion.