Velvet Embrace (56 page)

"Are you cold?"

Startled less by the question than the nearness of his voice, Brie turned to find Dominic standing behind her. He was watching her intently, but his expression was impossible to read. "Do you care?" she countered.

Something flickered for just an instant in his gray eyes, before they became impenetrable once again. "I can have Jacques find something warmer for you to wear," he said evenly.

Brie lifted her chin. "My cloak is quite adequate, thank you. Besides, I would not want to put
Jacques
to any trouble."

If she had hoped to provoke Dominic, she failed. Without replying, he moved to stand beside her at the rail, gazing out over the waves.

They were both silent for a time. Then, because she sensed Dominic would have preferred to remain so, Brie spoke. "I have not yet thanked you for letting me travel with you, my lord."

He shrugged. "I expect you would go to France, regardless. This way I can at least keep an eye on you and see that you don't run into the same trouble I found you in last night."

Brie flushed at his cool reminder of what had happened on the docks. "I haven't seen Lord
Effing
about," she observed, changing the subject. "Is he on board the ship?"

Dominic's mouth twisted wryly as he slanted a glance at her. "Jason returned to London this morning. It seems he was under the impression that I might prefer your company to his."

Wincing at his sarcasm, Brie wondered if she had been wise to start this conversation. "Well," she said, determined not to lose her temper before Dominic lost his, "allow me at least to thank you for the clothes you provided for me. It must have been difficult to come by them so early in the day."

"It was nothing."

"I marvel at the excellent fit."

Dominic's gaze swept her slender figure. "I've had a little practice," he replied blandly.

"Choosing garments for your mistresses, no doubt," Brie muttered.

She regretted her remark at once, for Dominic's gray eyes gleamed with sudden amusement. He turned toward her, leaning an elbow on the railing.
"But of course, mademoiselle.
I have always been generous to the women under my protection."

"I will not be your mistress!"

Dominic's mouth crooked in a provoking grin. "You haven't been asked yet,
chérie
," he said mildly. "Besides, I could hardly allow you to travel with me, dressed in those boy's rags you always wear."

Brie glared up at him, wanting to slap him. "How considerate you are, my lord! I suppose it was my ill fortune that your kindness didn't prevent you from forcing yourself upon me last night. Your behavior was despicable—" Brie's words were abruptly cut off as she found her arm caught in an iron grip, with Dominic's snarling face only inches from hers. Seeing the icy glitter in his eyes, Brie realized that she had finally moved him to anger, but the knowledge didn't give her much satisfaction. In fact, she was suddenly a little afraid of him.

"So your enjoyment was a pretense, was it, Brie?" he said menacingly. "Then I congratulate you. Your performance was better than the most desirable whores of my acquaintance."

"How dare you!" she hissed, furious at his insult. Yet her anger quickly turned to dismay as she was pulled roughly into Dominic's arms. She pushed frantically against his chest, trying to reason with him.
"Dominic, not here!
The sailors—"

"You forget,
chérie
, that I own this vessel. And while you are under my protection, you are mine." He kissed her then, ruthlessly, punishingly, wanting to crush her defiance and tame her proud spirit.

Unprepared for the violence of his kiss, Brie emerged from his embrace bruised and trembling and—Heaven help her— weak with desire. She averted her face, not wanting him to know how strongly he had affected her. "Your presumptions are ill founded, Lord Stanton," she whispered hoarsely. "I am not yours, nor do I enjoy being mauled. Now if you are quite finished humiliating me, I will return to my cabin."

Dominic, too, was shaken from their encounter, but he had far more experience hiding his feelings. "Ah, yes," he said nastily.
"Once more the lady whose reputation has been compromised.
Will you now demand marriage as compensation for your lost honor?"

Brie's eyes flew to his face, but for a moment she was too stunned even to reply. Then, suddenly, she began to laugh. "I am sorry, Dominic," she finally gasped, "but it lacked only that
to . . .
to put a c-cap on this ridiculous adventure! I know you think me capable . . . of such ex-extortion, but you may rest easy. You are s-safe with me. You . . . you have to be the last
man . . .
I would ever, ever . . . choose to marry!"

Knowing she sounded hysterical. Brie put a hand over her mouth, but she was unable to stop laughing. Deciding that she had better return to her cabin, she turned and made her way unsteadily across the deck to the hatchway.

Dominic watched her disappear in silence, his fingers tightly gripping the rail. Damn the little witch! How she cut up his peace! His chest ached with the turmoil she stirred in him. Last night when she had turned away from him to weep softly onto her pillow, he had felt guilty as hell. And this morning, when Jason had insisted that marriage was the only course, he had been furious with himself for overlooking such an obvious trap. But even knowing that Brie might have planned to use his weakness for her to her own advantage, he hadn't been able to leave her behind. And now . . . now he only felt a strange, aching emptiness.

Could he believe what she had said just now, that marriage wasn't her aim? She had seemed genuinely astonished by the suggestion, before she had started laughing so wildly.

But even that was a minor issue. The real question was
,
could he trust her? Could he believe her when she said that she was merely an innocent victim of circumstances?

Dominic turned to gaze to the French coast. He had crossed the Channel many times in service to the English crown, though generally under the cover of darkness. His missions then he had treated as a game, where the wrong move could perhaps result in his death, but where the prize was the balance of power between European nations. Once again he was involved in a situation that could cost him his life. But what now was the reward for winning? And why did he have this persistent feeling that the elusive prize would be as important to him as life itself?

They docked at Dieppe late in the afternoon, and once the coach was off-loaded, Dominic ordered his small party to press on. Brie wasn't at all surprised when Dominic elected to ride in the box, rather than share the carriage with her, but she staunchly pretended his actions didn't matter. And at least, the arrangement would give her an opportunity to sleep, something she couldn't do easily under Dominic's penetrating
gaze. Pulling a blanket over her lap, she settled back against the cushions and closed her eyes.

When nightfall approached, she was still asleep. She didn't even wake when the coach pulled into the courtyard of an inn some ten miles outside Rouen, or when Dominic opened the carriage door to hand her down.

Impatient with the delay, Dominic leaned into the carriage, searching the dark interior. Seeing Brie curled up in the far corner asleep, he felt his breath catch in his throat. The picture she presented was one of artless seduction. Her hood had fallen back again, letting a riot of curling tendrils escape their pins, while a ray of lantern light fell upon her face, lending her skin a golden glow. Her dark lashes lay on her cheeks like soft shadows, and her coral lips were slightly parted, seeming to beckon for a kiss.

Her charming dishevelment affected Dominic strangely; the anger that had been simmering inside him for the past two days vanished. He reached out to run a finger over Brie's lower lip, his own mouth curving in a smile. He would find out the truth, he promised himself, one way or another, but until then he would give her the benefit of doubt.

Brie's eyes fluttered open when he gently shook her awake, but the shock of meeting Dominic's gaze held her immobile. His gray eyes were warm and teasing, and he was smiling at her in that half-tender, half-amused way that always set her heart thudding against her ribcage. Brie felt a shiver of excitement run through her, knowing exactly what that look promised.

Dominic's smile widened into a grin as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. "I hate to disturb your nap,
chérie
, but unless you intend to spend the night in the coach, you had better make yourself presentable. I can't allow you to enter a public inn looking like you've been repeatedly tumbled by an ardent lover. It might give some hot-blooded male the notion to try his own luck."

Brie knew she ought to respond with something appropriately cutting, but she still wasn't fully awake. She contented herself with glaring groggily at Dominic as she sat up and tried to repair her appearance.

Dominic waited as Brie smoothed her rumpled skirts, but when she attempted to subdue her unruly tresses, he grew impatient again. Pushing her clumsy fingers out of the way, he drew her hood up to cover her hair and tucked the remaining tendrils out of sight.

"I can manage without your help," Brie grumbled, uncomfortably aware of Dominic's nearness. "I am not a child, you know."

His eyes dropped the length of her body and he chuckled.
"How clever of you, my sweet.
You have discovered the one topic with which we are in complete agreement."

Brie didn't deign to reply. She merely gave Dominic a withering glance as he handed her down from the coach and preceded him to the inn.

The innkeeper was a widow—small, sour faced, and thoroughly French in her conviction that the English were not much better than the aristocrats her fellow countrymen had guillotined during the Revolution. Dominic had no difficulty overcoming her prejudices, however.

Brie watched his progress in awe, finding it hard to follow his rapid, colloquial French, but having no trouble seeing the effect his considerable masculine charm had on the widow. When the Frenchwoman actually began to blush and simper, Brie rolled her eyes at the ceiling, wondering if all women behaved like idiots when Dominic merely smiled. But then she remembered that she too had found Dominic fascinating and impossible to resist. She lowered her gaze to the crudely woven carpet and kept it trained there until the proprietress was ready to show them upstairs.

Much to Brie's relief, she and Dominic were given separate bedchambers. The room was also far more cheerful than she had expected. A welcome fire burned in the hearth, and the rather large bed, bare of hangings, looked clean and comfortable. When she spied the big wooden tub in the corner,

Brie felt her spirits rise considerably. She asked if she might have a bath before supper, and the Frenchwoman grudgingly agreed to send up some hot water, as well as a tray of food.

While she waited, Brie removed her cloak and gloves and hung the
spencer
of her travelling suit in the wardrobe.
That done, she found herself staring thoughtfully at the bed and wondering why Dominic had decided not to share it with her.
She had no desire to repeat the previous night's humiliating scene, but the thought that he might not want her wasn't as comforting as it should have been.