Velvet Embrace (59 page)

Annoyed that he could forget her so easily, Brie stretched and brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "What time is it?" she asked in a voice still husky with sleep.

"A little past ten," he replied absently.

"Good God! Why didn't you wake me? I never sleep so late."

Dominic's lips twitched. "No matter, we won't be travelling today. The storm has made the roads poor going and I don't care to risk an accident in this downpour. You can stay in bed if you like. Would you care for some chocolate or coffee?"

Before Brie could answer, a knock sounded at the door. She barely had time to pull the covers up to her chin before Dominic gave permission to enter. It was his coachman, Jacques. With an apologetic glance at Brie, Jacques handed a rolled-up parchment to his employer,
then
left again, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Dominic was unfurling the paper when a pillow
came
flying across the room to hit him squarely in the head. He flinched, letting out an oath, and his narrowed gaze swung to Brie. "What the hell—"

"How dare you?" she demanded furiously, her face scarlet with embarrassment at being seen in Dominic's bed. "How dare you treat me like a . . . a . . .
oooh
!"

Her cry was one of pure outrage. She looked around wildly for something else to throw, but Dominic decided not to wait till she found something that would hurt. He was on her in an instant, pinning her beneath him, holding her arms by her sides. She fought him furiously. "Let me go, you . . . beast! I will not stand for this!"

After a struggle which left her gasping for breath but no less a captive, she finally quieted and merely glared at Dominic beneath her lashes. "You are hurting me," she said through clenched teeth.

Dominic's grip shifted, but he didn't release her as he returned her glare. "And I'll continue hurting you, until you tell me what in hell's name you're ranting about." His look turned to puzzlement. "Did Jacques say something, do something?"

"Yes! He found me in your bed, damn you! How dare you expose me to your servants in such a fashion?"

Dominic's grin was positively wicked. "Is that all? Jacques has seen women in bed before."

Brie itched to slap that provoking grin off his face. "In
your
bed?" she asked in a dangerous voice.

Dominic pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I don't remember. Shall I call him back so you may ask him?" He was unprepared for the spitting, clawing wildcat his teasing unleashed. It took every ounce of his strength to keep Brie from doing serious damage to his face. At last he wrestled her to a draw by rolling her on her stomach.

Face down, Brie was helpless. Dominic's legs were holding her immobile, while his hands twisted hers behind her back. Her impotence only increased her rage, though, and the fact that her nose was pressed into the mattress left her positively rigid with fury. The
bedlinens
still bore traces of Dominic's masculine scent and the musky fragrance of their lovemaking.

"I could kill you!" she cried, her declaration muffled by the pillows.

Dominic's entire body stiffened. His reply, when it came, was low and savage in her ear. "So we are back to that, are we,
chérie
? How naturally talk of killing me comes to your lips. But I suppose I should thank you for reminding me. I've become so enamored of your charms lately that I stupidly forgot your true character. I warn you, though, were you to touch one hair on my head, Jacques would tie you to the nearest tree and flay your smooth skin from your beautiful body."

He released her abruptly then, as if he could no longer bear touching her. Pushing himself off the bed, he retrieved his clothes and without saying another word, slammed from the room.

Dismayed and shaken, Brie stared at the closed door. She had not meant to destroy the fragile bond between them—but she had, with a few angry words. Oh, when would she ever learn to hold her wretched tongue?

Shortly afterward, a servant brought her breakfast, but Brie found she couldn't eat. Her stomach seemed to be tied in knots. She took a long bath, but even that gave her little enjoyment.

She was sitting in a chair before the fire, slowly brushing her hair, when the bedroom door opened and Dominic walked in. Brie tensed when she met his gaze, for his expression was still arctic. Perversely, he had never seemed more handsome or more appealing. He had shaved and changed clothes, and was dressed casually in buckskin breeches and a full-sleeved white shirt.

Her eyes searched his face for some sign of softening as she waited for him to say something,
anything.
But when he merely shut the door and seated himself at the table before his forgotten papers, Brie resumed her brushing, staring sullenly at the fire. She would not
grovel
for his forgiveness.

She would have been gratified to know just how distracted Dominic was by her presence. Finding it difficult to concentrate on the documents before him, he frowned unknowingly at the parchment in his hand—a map showing what once had been the vast
Valdois
estates. He owned all the land now, except for a hundred or so acres that his agent had been unable to purchase. No doubt the disputed acreage belonged to Sir Charles since it bordered the Durham lands.

There was also a report on
Valdois
which gave a detailed account of the condition of the fields and chateau. Dominic's agent had warned him about the neglect and destruction the estate had suffered, but he could see that for himself as he perused the columns of figures. All of the income from the land had been spent elsewhere, not a penny going to increase the yield of what had once been profitable vineyards and farms. It would take years to rebuild the estate, years until it once again was self-supporting.

In spite of his efforts to study the rows of figures, though, Dominic found his mind wandering to Brie. She had finished brushing her hair and with deft fingers was pinning the shining russet locks into a knot. Her sedate appearance made him recall how seductive she had looked that morning, with her hair still tousled from their fierce lovemaking.

Remembering the soft smile Brie had given him when she had awakened, Dominic mentally flogged himself. Her smile had been a priceless jewel, one that had taken his breath away with its quiet brilliance. Afterwards he had found it impossible to concentrate on reports. All he wanted to do was climb back in bed and gather Brie's warm body in his arms.

But then Jacques had delivered the map. Dominic, in spite of his knowledge of women, had not understood Brie's anger and embarrassment. He had mocked her when he should have soothed. He now greatly regretted teasing her like that, almost as much as he regretted his subsequent outburst. Damn it, but he would be glad when this business was finished and he knew the truth about her. The uncertainty was driving him mad.

Brie sighed then, reflecting Dominic's thoughts. Hearing the unhappiness in the soft sound, he watched as she stood and walked to the window. She stared out at the storm for several minutes,
then
began to pace quietly, while Dominic followed her with his gaze.

Admiring her gently swinging hips, he found himself picturing Brie as she had been the night before, without the elegant bronze silk gown, without the severe upswept hair style—but with her flaming hair streaming wildly over her shoulders, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

How her passion had delighted him! He had sometimes deplored Brie's aggressiveness for being far too masculine, but the previous evening her boldness had pleased him beyond rational thought. Dominic's eyes glinted as he recalled the hungry way she had touched him, had tasted him. She needed no urging from him to make love the way most well-bred woman would find scandalous. He could feel his groin muscles tightening at the mere memory.

Just when he felt he could no longer resist the lure of those shapely curves, though, Brie went to her trunk. Seeing her withdraw a cloak, he was surprised into asking what she meant to do.

Brie stiffened and lifted her chin. "I am going for a walk, if you don't object."

Dominic forced back a smile; Brie's portrayal of the haughty beauty was unequalled. "I'm afraid I must object," he replied, struck now by an irrational whim to keep her near him. "It's raining outside—or hadn't you noticed?"

"Of course I noticed. But I have been in worse weather."

"I'm not disputing your ability to withstand the elements, but the fact is, Jacques can't be spared to escort you at the moment and I personally have no desire to brave the storm." He paused, raising an eyebrow quizzically. "Would you have me accuse you of going to meet someone?"

Brie left off tying the strings of her cloak to stare incredulously at him. "Just who am I supposed to meet?" she asked finally.
"A lover, perhaps?
Or
your
nameless enemies, or maybe even my grandfather? Your imagination astounds me!"

Seeing Dominic's unchanging expression, Brie threw up her hands.
"Very well!
Just to prove to you that there is no meeting, I will sit here and quietly go mad from boredom!" The low rumble in Dominic's throat sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, and it made Brie bristle. "I am serious, Dominic! I shall go distracted any minute now."

"Can you not sew or embroider or—"

"Is that how you think I occupy my time,
embroidery?"

This time Dominic didn't hide his laughter. "Nothing
so
mundane or feminine as stitching for you, little wildcat, is that it?" Still chuckling, he rose and went to his trunk. Brie watched him warily, but Dominic only fished out a leather- bound volume and held it out to her. "You do read, do you not?"

Brie accepted his offering, arching an eyebrow when she saw the title. "Richard III? I didn't think your tastes ran to Shakespeare."

"I enjoy many things,
chérie
," he said with a grin. He tugged at the ribbons of her cloak, but when he slid the garment from her shoulders, Brie spun away and settled herself on the rug before the fire. She lay on her side, her head propped up with one hand and her feet tucked under her skirts. Watching her, Dominic couldn't help but smile. She was forever unconventional; never would she do the expected. He went back to his work, giving Brie only an occasional glance as he made his plans.

Some time later a discreet knock at the door brought an end to their quiet interlude. Remembering the contretemps of that morning, Dominic went to the door, giving Brie time to adjust her undignified position and smooth her skirts before a maidservant entered with a luncheon tray. The girl spread the dishes on the table and departed with a curtsy, leaving Brie and Dominic to enjoy a savory stew and a bottle of the inn's finest wine.

They ate in silence, a silence Brie felt acutely after the past few days of lively conversation and laughter. At the conclusion of the meal, she carefully set down her fork and launched into the apology she had formulated. "Dominic, I am sorry for what I said this morning. I didn't mean it . . . about killing you.
I . . .
I suppose I overreacted. Katherine has always said my greatest failing is my temper."