Vanessa played while Olivia sang, and Damien watched with fondness and growing pleasure.
He hadn’t expected such remarkable progress with his sister. It seemed a stroke of genius now to have brought Vanessa here. Her breeding and education qualified her as a suitable companion, certainly, but he could have searched for years and not found anyone who could have made such an impact so quickly. In a few weeks she had persuaded Olivia to take a renewed interest in life, a task at which he had failed for months.
He was supremely grateful for her efforts, and for the warmth she had brought to his home. This evening was one of the most enjoyable times he could remember at Rosewood-and it was not yet over.
At his urging, Olivia retired early so she wouldn’t become overly fatigued by her first venture into company. Damien himself carried her upstairs and then returned to the music room to find Vanessa seated on the settee, sipping her wine.
A rare tenderness filled him as he regarded her. She looked relaxed and content, her eyes soft, dreamy, her defenses lowered.
A warning voice whispered in his head that his judgment was becoming sadly impaired and entangled in emotion, but Damien purposely ignored it, just as he pushed aside any twinges of conscience at what he was about to do. The time had finally come to attempt to penetrate her weakened armor.
Yet the possessive urges sweeping through him were more than simple carnal hunger, he knew. He felt a fierce need to hold Vanessa in his arms and teach her about desire, about passion. To unlock the unfulfilled secrets of her body and strip her of her shocking innocence. For all her familiarity with scandal, she was appallingly inexperienced in carnal matters.
How very wrong he’d been about her in that regard. It struck him, suddenly, the sacrifice she’d made for her family’s sake. It had taken considerable courage for her to agree to become his mistress when she was so averse to physical intimacy. A courage he had to admire.
Her disdain of men and sex, Damien had no doubt, stemmed from her unsavory relationship with her former husband, and he very much wanted to remedy her woeful ignorance-for her own benefit as well as his own. He wanted to free her of her fear.
“I am more grateful than you know,” he murmured, coming into the room, “for your kindness to my sister.”
Vanessa looked up with a smile. “She is deserving of kindness and easy to love.”
“You seem to enjoy her company.”
“I do, very much.”
“Then your stay here has not been so very onerous?”
She hesitated. “No, not at all.”
He read the implication in her pause: not onerous yet. Not as long as their bargain remained unfulfilled.
“Will you accompany me to the gardens?” he asked. “There is something I would like to show you.”
Her sudden wariness was reminiscent of her previous nervousness around him. “At this time of night?”
Damien kept his tone light. “Pray, don’t look as if you expect me to assault you, sweeting. I have nothing so ominous in mind, I assure you. The bath for Olivia is almost finished. I thought you might care to see it, without all the workmen present.”
Vanessa glanced at the window, whose curtains had been drawn against the darkness, and then down at her silk dinner gown. The square neckline and short, puffed sleeves would expose a wide expanse of flesh to the evening air.
“Perhaps I should fetch a wrap,” she said uncertainly.
“I think you’ll be comfortable enough without one. The conservatory is quite warm.”
“Very well…”
His eyes smiled at her as he took her arm and escorted her through the doors into the garden. The night air was cool on her bare flesh. The moon was nearly full and quite brilliant, while the stars shone like diamonds on black velvet.
She must be mad to venture into a serene, moonlit garden with such a man, Vanessa reflected, and yet a reckless pleasure filled her, a keen sense of anticipation. Perhaps she had partaken of too much wine…
“You are suddenly quiet,” Damien observed into the silence.
“I am questioning the wisdom of being here with you.”
“Would you rather inspect the conservatory on your own? I will leave you to go on alone, if you wish.”
“No, I don’t wish to go alone.”
“Come now, sweeting, I won’t have you afraid of me. If I haven’t pressed myself on you in all my visits to your bedchamber where we enjoy absolute privacy, I’m unlikely to do so here where we might be spied upon.”
“Even so, you will forgive me if I am wary of your hedonistic tendencies.”
He shook his head slowly. “It saddens me that you have such a poor opinion of my character. And to think I’ve attempted to apply my most charming manner of address with you.”
Vanessa bit back a smile, determined not to succumb to his sensual appeal, yet she had to admit she enjoyed their verbal sparring and the challenge of keeping pace with him in their game of wits. “I imagine I shall manage to resist your charm. You would do better to practice it on a more willing lady.”
“Alas, there are no others available at present. I fear you will have to suffice.”
“I doubt a single female would be able to satisfy a man of your vast appetites.”
“I think you underrate yourself.”
“And I think you overrate yourself.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a set-down? Come, darling, I might become insulted.”
“Would it be possible to insult you sufficiently to make you give up your pursuit of me?”
The long, vaguely amused look he gave her made her heartbeat quicken. How could she allow herself to be so affected by the wicked charm in those arresting eyes?
Vanessa shivered with awareness. Whenever she was near him, she fought temptation. And there was so much of it.
“Here we are,” he murmured after a moment as they came to the end of the terraced garden.
They had reached the conservatory. When Damien held the door open for her, Vanessa hesitated to enter the dark, cavernous hothouse.
“Wait a moment, and I shall light a lamp.” He entered, and a moment later she heard the flare of a lucifer being struck.
“There… does that dispel your anxiety?”
She couldn’t say that it did. If anything her anxiety increased, for the lamp’s glow only highlighted the chiseled beauty of his face.
Her wariness increased more when she saw Damien latch the door behind them. He must have seen her response, for he said casually, “I prefer not to be disturbed, but if it will ease your mind I shall help you arm yourself.”
He moved over to a shelf where gardening tools were kept. After searching a moment, he handed her a two-foot length of pipe.
“This will make a substantial weapon. You may beat me off with it if I make untoward advances.”
His warm eyes touched by lazy sensuality, he smiled down at her, obviously not worried that he was in any immediate danger from her. Vanessa accepted the pipe with skepticism, suspecting that it, like the key to her bedchamber, was designed to engender a false sense of security.
He led her into the vast interior of the conservatory, along aisles of potted roses and exotic orchids, toward an array of lemon and lime and orange trees. The air was much warmer here, moist and fragrant with the scents of blossoms and damp earth.
Eventually they reached a pair of exquisite Chinese silk screens that had been erected for privacy. Beyond was a tiled pool, partially sunk into the ground, filled with gently swirling water.
“An existing boiler heats the water,” Damien explained, “but new pipes had to be routed.”
The pool was obviously designed for an invalid, Vanessa saw. The near end was equipped with a wide ledge approximately thigh high, while inside the pool a narrow ramp sloped downward, so that the patient could be eased into the water.
“So what think you, sweeting? Does it meet your expectations?”
She nodded honestly. “I find it quite impressive. Indeed, I am astonished.”