It hadn't happened. It wasn't too late. She was strong enough to put this madness behind her. She would just have to recognize that her strength was not absolute and act accordingly.
She was assailed by the image of Jared bending over her, wicked, sensuous, smiling as he moved slowly, rhythmically. Her breasts were swelling, her muscles tensing, readying even at the mere thought.
He would not want to let her go. She would have to be blind not to realize that Jared, too, was caught in the sensual web he'd woven around her.
Dear God, it was going to be difficult.
A troubled frown wrinkled Lani's brow as she watched Cassie walk away. She had known it would take only a word to bring Cassie back to the path they both must walk. She had done what was necessary, but she took no pleasure from it.
"What did you say to her?" She turned to see Bradford strolling toward her. "She seemed upset. I can't believe you were actually quarreling."
"Cassie and I never quarrel."
"Because she believes your wisdom is second only to that of the angels. She saves her strength to battle with the rest of the world." His speculative gaze returned to Cassie's retreating figure. "Jared?"
She pretended to misunderstand him. "As far as I know, she didn't quarrel with Jared, either."
"But she will." He turned to look at her. "Won't she?"
She gazed at him without expression.
"Because you've decided it's time to wake her up and break the spell."
"Spell?"
"Jared has the facility for making most women's heads whirl if he puts his mind to it. He's almost as good with women as he is with horses." He smiled. "And I'd wager he's been exerting himself to the utmost. He appears to be pretty dizzy himself this time."
"I don't know what you mean."
"I may be a drunkard but I'm not blind. They've both been like sleepwalkers since you tossed him our enchanting Cassandra."
She stiffened. "You think I sent Cassie to him to use?"
"Didn't you?"
"No." She added with biting anger, "And you're wrong. You must also be blind if you think I'd force Cassie to do my will."
"I'm relieved." He leaned against the railing. "I didn't want to believe you'd go that far to save Deville." He made a rueful face. "Though I'd probably accept it."
"My actions are not yours to accept or refute. Your opinion is nothing to me."
"Oh, I think it is. It annoys you, but you do find me both charming and witty."
"Indeed? And modest, too, no doubt."
He shook his head, ignoring the irony. "You're too good a judge of character to make that mistake, but you're definitely drawn to me."
"I'm not drawn to you. I find you amusing on occasion, but that is all." She added, "It must be drink that's befuddling your senses."
He flinched. "Cruel."
"Truth."
"Cruel," he repeated. "And you're never cruel to anyone else. Don't you find that curious?"
She hadn't thought about it, she realized. The response had been pure instinct. "It annoys me."
"Why? I'd judge you to be the most tolerant of mortals. You even managed to live with that Kidman harridan."
"It just does." She added with sarcasm, "And Clara cannot help the poison in her soul, but you ingest poison into your body every day."
"But that poison serves to make me a less potent foe. Surely that should earn your approval." He raised his brows. "I fear your reasoning is grievously at fault. No, my reading of the situation is the right one. You're definitely drawn to me."
She gave an inelegant snort.
"You see? I'd be willing to wager that you'd never make that crude sound in the presence of your Deville. His ideal mate is a cultured gentlewoman, and he molded you in the way he wanted you to go."
"I molded myself."
"To fit his vision."
"The vision of all foreigners. You all want the same thing."
"And what is that?"
"A gracious lady at the dinner table and a pagan in bed."
"I admit it's the perfect combination. But if you gave Deville his ideal, why didn't he marry you?"
"I never asked it."
"It's usually the gentleman who asks."
"I don't want to discuss this any longer."
"Because it hurts?"
It did hurt. She had thought she had come to accept the blow to her pride, but it was suddenly there before her. "I don't need marriage. It's you foreigners who require vows."
"Yes, we do." He paused and then said with great formality, "Will you do me the honor of marrying me, Lani?"
She stared at him in shock. He could not have said what she thought she'd heard.
"I'm considered a good match. I'm not as rich as Jared, but I can keep you in fine style. I'm not completely beyond the pale as far as society is concerned."
"What are you saying?" she whispered.
"Oh, one more thing." He looked directly into her eyes and his low voice rang with sincerity. "I will love and honor you all the days of your life."
She felt as if she had been struck by lightning. Stunned… and unutterably touched. She did not want to feel this moved. She pulled her gaze away and looked out at the sea. "Or until you overhear one of your friends talking about the terrible mistake you made wedding a Polynesian savage. Much better just to make a whore of her."
"No, that would not end my affection for you." His voice was very gentle. "Just the life of the man who said those words."
"I can imagine your fighting over a case of French brandy, never a woman."
"Another blow. You see, you are trying to be cruel to me. I take that as definitely encouraging."
She whirled on him. "Then you're a fool. I have no affection for you. I love Charles Deville."
"Why?"
"Because he's kind and gentle and-"
"I'm kind. I can be gentle." He paused. "And I need you as much as he does. More. That should tip the scales in my favor."
"That's nonsense."
He shook his head. "I believe you're a woman who was born to give. You require someone to lavish care upon." He self-mockingly tapped his chest. "Look to me, fair damsel. I'm a bottomless well of need."
She was shaken. She had not dreamed he had studied her enough to perceive that about her character. "I'm sure you have a bottomless thirst, but that can be accommodated by a-"
"I'll quit drinking."
"What?"
"It's getting in the way and giving you an excuse to push me aside." He waved a hand. "It's gone."
She gazed at him skeptically.
"I control my habits, they don't control me. It's gone," he repeated. "Though I may be making a mistake. My drinking made you feel safe and appealed to your nurturing qualities."
"Safe?"
"You need not take a drunkard seriously," he said simply. "But now you'll be forced to consider my suit."
"I won't consider it. I love Charles."
"You've just grown accustomed to the idea of loving him." He frowned. "No, perhaps you do love him. You have a warm heart, and it's big enough to hold more than one love. I may have problems with that. But he's not worthy of you. I feel no guilt in taking you away from him."
"Particularly since you believe he killed your brother," she said scornfully.
"I detested my brother. John was a bully and a fool. He made my life miserable from the moment I was born until I escaped from Morland into the pleasant depravities of London. The only person he treated with any degree of affection was Jared. He adored him." He wrinkled his nose. "Pity. If he'd been as cruel to his son as he was to the rest of the world, Jared wouldn't be so obsessed with the thought of revenge."