Ruined by Moonlight (10 page)

“If he has run off with my cousin,” Alicia said with deliberate intent in an effort to be supportive, “he would be a genius, not a fool, for she is not only beautiful but also gracious and intelligent.”

At this point all of the women in the room turned to stare at her.

“Elena is wonderful,” she declared stoutly, “and, to my knowledge, she’s never even met Lord Andrews.” Her cup rattled into the saucer as she replaced it. “She certainly has never mentioned him to me and you all admit you have never seen them so much as share a waltz.”

“Lady Heathton,” one of the matrons finally commented, “I am sure if your cousin is blameless, she will be duly exonerated.”

The speaker was Winifred Tomlison, who was the dowager Countess of Something-or-Another, but at the moment Alicia was too irritated to remember. The woman had the nerve to add, “
You
must admit that their mutual absence is quite the coincidence.”

Guilty until able to prove otherwise
. That hardly seemed fair, but Alicia had the sinking feeling that was how it was going to be from the condescending intonation. “I feel confident we will find that there is a logical explanation for all this,” she responded, realizing as she said the words that they actually belonged to her husband.

Well, when analyzed that way, Benjamin wasn’t always that communicative, but when he did speak it was always well thought-out and worth listening to.

When she left the luncheon on a murmured excuse a few moments later, she could swear the speculative gazes followed her out the door and left a clinging residue she wished to wash off.

If this glancing blow from the upcoming vitriol of her cousin’s disappearance was any indication, how was Elena going to feel? To say Alicia was concerned was an understatement. Only a year apart in age, they had shared enough time together that she knew Elena was sensitive and, despite her recent popularity, not a person who reveled in the attention of society in any way—and especially not this one.

Where the devil was she?

Day Three

I
t was nothing. A mere brush of his fingers against hers as they both reached for the clotted cream at the same moment, but it sparked a startled awareness and an absurd blush warmed her cheeks.

It didn’t help at all that Ran politely withdrew his hand and there was a definite gleam of wicked amusement in his eyes over her discomfort at the inadvertent contact.

He had the most beautiful eyes. Elena had never really thought about that part of a male before this incarceration. Naturally a woman noticed the usual things like the breadth of a man’s shoulders, his height, the whiteness of his teeth when he smiled, the line of his jaw, and how he tied his cravat…but she hadn’t realized the impact of the way a man—especially a devilishly attractive one like the scandalous Andrews—could look at a woman.

As if those midnight blue eyes could see
everything
.

The realization of his presence so close to her—the careless tie of the sash at his lean waist, the fact he
was naked beneath the smooth silk of his robe—was unsettling.…

“Please,” he said affably. “Ladies first, of course.”

It was a little irksome that he could be so blasé when she was so affected, but Elena murmured, “Thank you.”

She was getting used to the multicolored muted light and the way it gave the room a surreal glow. The truth be told, it was very romantic in an aesthetic sense. She put the cream on her scone, took a dainty bite, and touched her mouth with a napkin. “What do you think this room was used for before?”

“Before
us
, you mean?” His smile was ironic. “Before someone decided it was the perfect place to hold two people against their will as their lives no doubt disintegrate with each passing minute?”

Put that way it sounded awful, but there was no denying the probable truth. How
would
they ever be able to explain this? “Before us,” she agreed, setting aside her pastry, wondering at the same time as she said the words how often other women had sat across from him in this fashion, drinking tea and nibbling on their breakfast in nothing but a thin robe, after spending the night in his bed. It was currently late afternoon and they were having high tea, but still…surely there had been many intimate mornings.

Maybe not
that
often,
she decided upon reflection. She might be young and inexperienced, but she had the impression that while Lord Andrews was a celebrated lover, he was not a man who lightly shared intimate details of his life.

In fact, he didn’t share his life at all as far as she could tell. By the sheer necessity of circumstance there was little for them to do but converse, and she was starting to
get more of a sense of him other than just the persona so whispered over by society, but he didn’t share personal information freely. What she had discovered had come in chance remarks and small comments.

For one, he loved his family. He spoke fondly of his sister and aunt and part of his anger at his current predicament was how worried they both would be over his unexplained absence. As annoyed as he was at being detained involuntarily, they were obviously his main concern.

Interesting, that. She would never have given him credit for being so sentimental or sensitive before their enforced proximity, but there was much more to the man than met the eye, and considering their mutual incarceration that was lucky for her. If, indeed, the purpose of this was to destroy one or both of them, Lord Andrews was not cooperating.

“This was a meeting place for assignations, if I had to venture a hypothesis,” he said, the words weighted, “for a lord and his mistress.” He gestured at the bed. “There are some modifications that tell me this was used for illicit trysts.”

“Modifications?” The word was spoken without thought, and she eyed the main piece of furniture in their prison with an assessing eye. “I see nothing unusual about it. It is beautifully carved, but otherwise it is just a place to sleep.”

His smile was lazily wicked. “Do you see the rings? What do you suppose those are for?”

She had no idea.

He was correct: there were two gold rings, each mounted on either side of the elaborate headboard, but she wasn’t quite following him. In truth, the attachments
really didn’t seem to have much purpose. “I’m not certain.”

“I didn’t think you would.” He laughed but then ruefully shook his head. “And I most certainly should not explain. In case you have not noted it I am doing my utmost to not be a bad influence on your maidenly sensibilities.”

“I have noticed.”

Their gazes met. Deliberately he said, “Then I shouldn’t tell you.”

“My lord, you do a great deal of things you should not do. Is that not correct?” She found the slight dimple in his cheek fascinating when he smiled. It gave him a boyish air at odds with the power of his tall frame.

“Not the past few days.”

“No,” she agreed, not quite sure why she was playing with fire in this fashion, but she truly was curious. “Not the past few days. You have been the model of decorum. So you should be allowed a small infraction. What are the rings for?”

“Model of decorum? I am fairly sure that’s the first time in my life I’ve been referred to that way.” He stretched out his long legs and lounged back. “As for the rings, it’s a game some men and women like to play…a fantasy giving the illusion of not having a choice.”

She still didn’t quite understand and her confusion must have shown, for he went on.

“Bondage is an aphrodisiac for certain lovers. Some women enjoy it. Men, too, I’ve heard, though I must admit it doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Bondage?”

“Being tied up before and during sexual intercourse. There are those who find it to enhance the experience. Obviously it makes one partner dominant.”

That blunt declaration was enlightening enough that she blinked and then blushed, but she had to admit it was all very interesting. In a shocking way, of course, but still interesting. No doubt Lord Andrews was a very font of information on a subject she knew virtually nothing about.

Why not ask,
she thought recklessly, for they had nothing but time to talk. No one else would ever have this sort of conversation with her. “I admit I’ve never heard of such a thing. Why would that appeal to anyone?”

“As I said, it’s a fantasy. The helplessness is supposed to add to the pleasure.”

Were Mother in the room, she would faint dead away over his frankness,
Elena thought with a twinge of humor. “I would think feeling helpless would not be enjoyable at all.”

“If you truly were helpless. There is trust involved but that goes without saying when making love. Usually the male is larger and stronger than the female anyway. A woman gives the gift not just of her body in the bedroom but of her trust also.”

“I had never thought of it that way.” He was right, of course. Yet despite the obvious strength of his tall, athletic body, she wasn’t the least bit afraid of him. Quite the opposite. Elena felt protected more than vulnerable.

“Perhaps we should change the subject.” His voice was dry but his gaze was speculative under slightly lowered lashes. “I am sure this topic is inappropriate for a proper young lady.”

“I disagree.” Elena looked back with a hint of challenge. “No one will ever know what we discussed during our time here, and, quite frankly, I’m very curious. It
seems to me that young women in my position are expected to marry, often to secure a family bloodline by producing an heir, but no one really explains how one leads to the other. I’ve never understood why it is such a secret, but when asked my mother is so vague that I have given up.”

“I hardly think she’d approve of you asking
me
.”

“She wouldn’t,” Elena admitted. “As I said, I’m not likely to tell her about this conversation and, actually, I’m asking you because I think there is a good chance you will be honest with me.”

Dark brows lifted slightly in sardonic amusement. “If I cooperate I will lose my status as a model of decorum and I have had it for so short a time.”

She stifled a laugh. “I doubt you were destined to keep it for long anyway, my lord.”

“That’s probably true,” he agreed with an unrepentant grin. “So, go ahead. Ask me whatever you wish and I will be as frank as possible, though, your mother aside, I would think Colbert might be the one to take the greatest offense.”

The reminder of her fiancé was disconcerting, as she realized for a few moments she’d almost forgotten he existed. “I can’t imagine asking
him
,” she admitted, thinking of his lordship’s almost forbidding politesse.

“Well, he isn’t here,” Ran said drily. “It appears I am your only option, my lady.”

She seemed to be carefully weighing her first question.

If he could resist her request he would, but the beauty sitting before him with her tumbled fair hair and an inquiring look on her face made it impossible.

Or maybe he didn’t
want
to resist. He should, of
course. It went without saying. He’d done his best to concentrate on any other subject besides the topic she wanted to discuss since he’d woken up in the same bed with her.

She was too bewitchingly lovely, and though of the upper class—her family’s wealth significant, her launch into society lauded—so far he’d found her uniquely unspoiled. For a man who thought he knew a great deal about women the anomaly was unsettling. He was sophisticated enough he understood that beauty did not mean depth—more often quite the opposite. Lady Elena wasn’t vain or petulant or a dozen other traits he disliked.

Thank God
.

He was forced to admit their captor might be cleverer than he first imagined. Their shared captivity was having a predictable effect on his libido—that was intentional, he knew. But it was also producing an unexpected sense of camaraderie and friendship.

So, despite the warning voices clanging in his brain, he decided to answer whatever she asked. Why not? After all, she was right: no one would ever know what they had conversed about together and he found the curiosity in her gorgeous eyes irresistible.

“Why is it my understanding that some women do not enjoy the attentions of their husbands but others seek lovers? That seems to be such a contradiction.”

At least that was easy enough to address. “Obligation is rarely as enjoyable as the forbidden. I’m afraid that is human nature. It works both ways also. Men may choose their wives with many factors in play, such as political connections and bloodlines, but when choosing a lover, a man or woman usually selects what actually attracts
them in a physical sense. As it is a very physical act, obviously the latter choice is a more enjoyable experience.”

“How physical?”

That delicately asked question was a bit more difficult to define without describing the mechanics. He lifted his brows. “Let me say enough so that when done properly the two parties should be breathless and pleasantly exhausted afterward.”

Her smooth brow furrowed. “I see.”

No, she didn’t, and he would love to drag her the few feet to the bed and demonstrate, but that was ill-advised. Ran went on. “However, making love is like an intricate game on another level also, since emotions are usually in play. It involves not just the body but the mind. The balance of power is always shifting. It might be a man’s world, but women tend to hold power over men because our sexual desires are more”—his smile was brief—“base, shall we say? In the bedroom, at the least, we are much simpler creatures. When aroused gratification is paramount.”

The jeweled light shaded the look on her face as Elena obviously contemplated what he’d just said. “In short, you want us more than we want you? Having experienced this season with the fawning gentlemen in attendance, I would give credence to that theory, except the young ladies seem to be just as intent.”

That was astute. Ran murmured, “But the goals are remarkably different. Men wish to have a willing bedmate and women often want a protector. They both take and give.”

“A trade, then. How…mercenary. I’m trying to decide which gender is worse.”