Velvet Embrace (50 page)

The minutes ticked by slowly, the interminable waiting stretching Brie's overwrought nerves to fine wires. Intent on her own thoughts, she did not hear Dominic enter. The sharp click of the latch as the door closed made Brie start and swing around sharply. Dominic stood there, looking darkly handsome in his formal black evening clothes, yet the hard expression he wore made the rough planes of his face appear even more forbidding than usual. His eyes were as cold and glittery as glaciers. They raked over her as he leaned his shoulders against the doorjamb and folded his arms across his chest. He watched her, waiting, as if daring her to speak, and Brie knew what his verdict would be before she had even voiced her plea.

The words she had so desperately wanted to say died oft her
lips as she stared at this cold stranger she had grown to love. She felt only compassion for him, and a despairing sadness. How terrible it must have been for him as a child, Brie thought as she returned Dominic's gaze.
First his mother's desertion, then his father's death.
They had left scars that had never completely healed—scars she should have seen before now. There had been times, of course, when she had sensed the bitterness and rage simmering just below his polished, cynical exterior. But now that she understood why, now when she might have given him comfort, Dominic had erected a barrier of hatred and misunderstanding between them. He was as unreachable as the most distant star.

"Well,
chérie
? I granted you five minutes," Dominic reminded her when she was silent. "Four remain."

Brie turned her head away, feeling hot tears sting her eyes. "I am so very sorry, Dominic," she whispered.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Dominic drawled with acid mockery.
"A sign of remorse?
Regret perhaps? Save your tears, little viper, they are wasted on me."

"They are not for you," Brie retorted, swallowing a sob. "They are for me—for being foolish enough to think you would listen to me. You obviously have made up your mind about me. I stand convicted." Feeling a surge of anger then at his unfairness, Brie whirled to face Dominic again, her hands clenched at her sides. "On what evidence, may I ask? I was not even born when your father died. And until this afternoon, I knew nothing about my mother's relatives."

"I suppose next you will say you had nothing to do with the attempts on my life," he said flatly, his voice devoid of all emotion.

It took Brie a moment to register his words, but the impact of his accusation took her breath away. She stared at Dominic in disbelief, forcing down
an
hysterical urge to laugh. Dear God, not only did he blame her for her family's actions, but he thought her guilty of conspiring to murder him!

"That is absurd, my lord," Brie said shakily when she found her voice. "Had I wished your death, I surely could have hit on a better scheme than one which necessitated the destruction of my stables. Even you could not believe me capable of such a foolhardy act."

His arctic expression never changed. "Is that why you killed
Boulter
?
Because his methods were not to your liking?
You should be more particular in your choice of servants,
chérie
."

The futility of their conversation was rapidly becoming apparent to her. She gave a bitter laugh. "That is excellent advice, my lord! I shall consider it carefully when I next try to murder you. Now, however, there is nothing more to say. You have obviously closed your mind." She took a step toward the door, but then halted, realizing Dominic blocked her path. She watched him warily, waiting for him to step inside.

When he responded, though, it was to push
himself
from the door and walk toward her. He moved with the easy grace of a panther stalking his prey, and it took every ounce of courage she possessed for Brie to stand her ground rather than retreat.

They were but a few inches apart when he stopped and slowly reached up to curl his long fingers about her bare throat. For one panic-stricken moment, Brie wondered if he intended to choke her to death. He might be capable of it, she thought, staring into his smoldering gray eyes. There was something infinitely frightening about his savage expression—although there was also something in his eyes that looked vaguely like . . . regret? Regret mingled with the desire for revenge?
Would he feel remorse if he killed her?
Brie could hear the blood pounding in her temples as Dominic slowly stroked the vulnerable hollow at her throat.

"One thing still puzzles me," he murmured. "What did you hope to gain by giving yourself to me? Did you think to ensnare me with your lovely charms?"

Brie might have answered him, had not her voice been trapped in her throat. As it was, she could only stare, mesmerized, as his lips slowly descended to hover over hers like a bird of prey.

His warm breath brushing her mouth chilled her as nothing else could have done. Realizing that he intended to kiss her, Brie made a desperate attempt to avert her face, but his hard fingers tightened on her throat, holding her still. Then his mouth crushed down on hers with brutal force.

It was a punishing, ruthless assault, tasting of implacable fury. The eloquence of his merciless kiss showed Brie far better than words how inexorable was his contempt for her, but her own body's response was even more humiliating. She could only cling to him helplessly, her mind reeling, whirling,
spinning
. She couldn't think, couldn't breath,
couldn't
feel anything but Dominic's burning lips, his hard body pressed against her.

She wasn't aware when the door to the drawing room was flung open to admit three less-than-sober gentlemen. They were laughing uproariously at something one of them had said but in spite of their inebriated condition, they checked their headlong rush into the room upon seeing Brie in Dominic's arms.

"
Whash
the meaning of this,
Sh-tanton
?" one growled, swaying on his feet. "Why
d'you
want
ush
to meet you here if you meant to sample the wares
firsht
?"

A second man whistled through his teeth. "
B'god
, Percy! Even three sheets to the wind you can see why he was so eager to start without us. I want the wench next, Dominic."

Dominic abruptly ended his assault and raised his head, but a deep frown creased his mouth as he turned to stare at the new arrivals. Brie, still dazed, opened her eyes and managed to focus. Seeing the lascivious grins the men were directing at her, she stiffened in shock. Dominic had planned this! He had invited these drunken boors to join him here in the drawing room. This, then, was his revenge, to humiliate and expose her before his friends. Perhaps he even meant to watch while they had their way with her.

Shock quickly turned to blind fury. Brie struck out at Dominic wildly, a cry of pain and outrage erupting from her
throat. Her nails raked the side of his face before he managed to pin her arms at her side.

Voicing an oath, Dominic held Brie's twisting, writhing form in an iron embrace as he tried to explain that he had not asked his friends there. He had not staged their entrance— although he could easily guess who had when he recalled Denise's interest in where he was going.

But Brie was beyond the point of listening. "You bastard!" she sobbed, struggling ineffectively against his superior strength. "I hate you! I wish
Boulter
had killed you!"

Her angry words struck at his heart. Rage blazed in Dominic's eyes as he jerked Brie against him, clamping her fiercely against his body. Brie was bent back over his arm, her hands twisted behind her, her breasts crushed against his chest.

She could feel his hips grinding painfully into her belly, could see his teeth bared in a primitive snarl only inches from her face. Fear streaked through her at his murderous expression. Dominic truly meant to kill her this time, she realized. A whimper of pain escaped her as she closed her eyes, waiting.

The pitiful little sound penetrated Dominic's blind rage, flaying him with guilt. Swearing violently, he released Brie so abruptly that she went sprawling on the carpet. She lay there, pale and shaking, looking up at Dominic with eyes that were huge with fright.

A savage sneer curled the corner of his mouth as he drew a handkerchief from his coat pocket and pressed it against his bleeding cheek. "Your wishes are quite apparent,
chérie
," he observed sardonically. Then turning to his astonished acquaintances, he executed a flourishing bow. "Do come in, gentlemen. Perhaps you will have more luck than I in persuading the lady to share her favors." He paused, throwing a contemptuous glance at Brie. "I assure you, it will be worth the effort. She can be temptation enough for any man when she chooses."

Then he spun on his heel and stalked from the room.

Lady Denise knew the instant when Dominic returned, for her eyes were riveted on the ballroom doors. Earlier in the evening, she had been surprised to receive Dominic's note offering to escort her to the
Copely's
ball. She had not expected to be the recipient of his attentions again since his parting words at their last meeting had seemed quite final, but she hadn't hesitated to accept his invitation, hoping that his interest signaled a willingness to resume their previous relationship.

When he had arrived in his carriage to take her to the ball, however, her hopes had immediately suffered a setback. Dominic's striking features had been shrouded in an enigmatic expression, his manner distant and uncommunicative. He had seemed barely to tolerate her presence once they reached the ball, and it had been nearly impossible to hold his attention and keep him at her side.

Her optimism at her success had taken a plunging dive when Brie
Carringdon
arrived, and when Dominic had agreed to a private conversation with the auburn-haired beauty, Denise had been infuriated. She had watched him leave,
then
seized the opportunity to thwart her rival by arranging for Dominic's friends to interrupt his planned tête-à-tête. Awaiting Dominic's return with nervous impatience, she had kept her eyes trained on the doors.

Now he was headed toward her, wearing an expression that boded ill. She knew him well enough to recognize the signs of a savage temper held barely in check.

She forgot her own precarious situation, though, when she saw the deep scratches marring his cheek. "Good heavens!" she was startled into exclaiming. "Whatever happened to your face?"

Dominic appeared to smile. "Use your imagination, my sweet. I doubt you will have any trouble guessing this was the
result of the little scene you staged. Come, I intend to take you home. I've already ordered the carriage."

"
But.
. .
we have only just arrived! You can't mean to leave so soon."

He
raised an eyebrow and fixed her with his glittering gaze. Denise made no protest, therefore, when he took her arm and steered her toward the wide double doors. She held her tongue as they made their way down two flights of stairs, not wanting to antagonize him further, and with effort she even refrained from staring at the red grooves that furrowed his cheek.

Dominic was draping her fur-lined cloak about her shoulders when someone growled his name. He paused, looking up, while Denise followed his gaze to the top of the wide staircase. Julian Blake stood there, glaring down at them. She heard Dominic give a muttered curse as the viscount bounded down the stairs.

Julian halted barely a foot away, his fists clenched, his usually pleasant countenance twisted with anger. "You go too far, Dominic," he ground out between his teeth.