“They look like… sponges.”
“They are. When soaked in vinegar or brandy and placed in a woman’s love passage, they can prevent a man’s seed from taking root, thus avoiding impregnation.”
There were perhaps a dozen little squares of sea sponge, Vanessa saw, each with a thin string sewn onto one end.
“I should have thought of it before last night,” Damien observed. “I will be happy to show you how to use them.”
She could well imagine how they were used. The thought of Damien giving her such intimate instruction brought a flush of color to her cheeks, and forcibly reminded her of her role as Lord Sin’s mistress, as well as his desire for vengeance.
He was right, however. The scandal of a pregnancy out of wedlock would be devastating to her family.
It was possible, of course, that she was barren. She had never conceived when she was wed to Roger. But precautions were indeed wise. Her subterfuge of an innocent relationship with Damien would prove impossible to maintain were he to get her with child.
Yet the unsettled issues between them didn’t seem to matter later when Damien came to her bedchamber. She was waiting for him, curled up in a wing chair before the hearth, when the panel slid open with a whisper.
He wore a midnight blue dressing gown, which fell open as he stepped silently into the room. He was naked beneath, giving her a full frontal view of his nudity.
Nerves thrumming, she watched his lithe, graceful motion as he crossed the floor to her. His magnificent body was already aroused, his phallus huge and straining.
He took her breath away.
For a long moment their eyes held. In the candlelight his eyes were luminous, his gaze hot and burning with a passion he made no effort to disguise.
“I thought the day would never end,” he murmured hoarsely.
“I know,” she whispered as he bent to draw her to her feet.
He touched her face, his fingers long and smooth and delicious against her skin, making her shiver under his light caress. “I want you.”
Vanessa trembled, thrilled to be wanted by this magnificent, sinfully beautiful man.
Silently, then, he worked loose the tiny buttons of her night rail and pushed the garment down over her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
When his hand curved to the heavy ache of her breast, Vanessa shut her eyes, feeling a sweeping pleasure beneath the erotic gentleness of his touch. She quivered as he traced a finger between her breasts and downward to her narrow waist, then slowly back up again.
When his thumb brushed against the rigid peak of her nipple, a melting glow began deep inside her, along with a fierce, tender craving.
She needed no other urging. With a pleasured sigh, Vanessa lifted her arms to entwine them about his neck. Damien’s hot, sensual mouth came down to meet hers, while the night rose up and wrapped them in all its vibrant, sweet magic…
He visited her room nightly after that. Damien proved an exquisite tutor, exploring the sensual side of her nature and confronting her inhibitions. Vanessa felt as if she were living in an enchanted dream.
By tacit agreement they never spoke about their relationship, not wanting reality to intrude. She refused to contemplate the future, or dwell on the fact that by sharing her bed, Damien was only satisfying his desire for vengeance. She’d been compelled to accept his infamous bargain to ensure her family’s survival after her brother had recklessly gambled away their very livelihood. Yet it grew harder each day to remember her purpose for being here.
The following week saw a change in Damien’s relationship with his sister as well. While Olivia still retreated into bouts of moodiness periodically, she seemed genuinely determined to shrug off her anger and despair and to accept his offer of a closer friendship. Moreover, for the first time she expressed a desire to leave her bed, not only for her daily baths and regular visits to the gardens, but to venture out onto the vast estate grounds.
Since the weather had turned cool and rainy, it took some persuading on Olivia’s part to convince Damien that the dampness wouldn’t harm her. But occasionally when there was a break in the clouds, he took her on short drives in the country, wrapping her in warm blankets to prevent her from taking a chill.
She had an easier time convincing him to expand one of their excursions into a picnic.
“Vanessa says she enjoys picnics prodigiously,” Olivia pressed one rainy afternoon as she and Damien played a game of chess in the drawing room. “Surely you would not wish to disappoint her.”
“No indeed.” His eyes met Vanessa’s across the room. “I will always do my utmost to please so lovely a guest.”
Vanessa felt herself blush, recalling precisely how he had endeavored to please her during the night.
She forced her attention back to her book, but as the afternoon progressed, she found herself watching the two of them, their dark heads bent over the chessboard. They were laughing and jesting so easily that she was almost envious.
She had never expected to see the decadent Lord Sin so carefree, so mellow, and more than once she had to drag her gaze away from his face.
Each time she looked at him, Vanessa was conscious of a fresh wave of disquietude. Impossibly, she was falling under Damien’s spell with very little effort on his part. He was as multifaceted as a hundred-carat diamond. And his affectionate warmth for his sister was even more devastating than his sensual, irresistible charm toward herself.
Later that same night, Damien became aware of a similar disquietude. He and Vanessa were sitting before the hearth, engaged in one of their more serious conversations, and he observed with surprise that this was his longest visit to Rosewood since his youth. “Usually after the first day I find myself bored to tears and eager to leave.”
“I’ve often thought boredom stems from a lack of occupation,” Vanessa murmured in reply. “Perhaps if you had a worthwhile endeavor to fill your idle hours, you wouldn’t be so restless.”
“I suppose you mean to suggest a remedy for me?”
“Do you have any particular interests that would require you to put your mind and talents to good use? Anything that stirs or excites you?”
“Other than my usual decadent pleasures, you mean?” Damien frowned thoughtfully. “It is hardly a gentleman’s occupation, but I’m quite good at making money.”
Vanessa smiled. “That is a valuable talent indeed. Surely you could find an unexceptional diversion along those lines?”
“Perhaps. What about you, my lovely dragon? Do you harbor any interests you’ve kept secret?”
She shrugged lightly. “I would have liked to have had children, like most women. But that is highly unlikely now.”
“Why so?”
“Because I don’t intend to marry again. My sole concern now is for my sisters and how to provide for them. I vowed they would never be sold into marriage as I was. If they marry, it will be for love.”
When the corner of Damien’s mouth twisted sardonically, Vanessa arched an eyebrow. “I suppose you don’t believe in love?”
“Oh, I believe in it. Particularly in its destructive powers. Love can too easily become obsession. My father was a prime example. My sister is another. Olivia fancied herself in love, and it nearly destroyed her life.”
In the silence that followed his cynical observation, Damien averted his gaze and stared down at the brandy in his glass. He’d never known love, nor had he wanted to, not after the abominable example his father had set.
Yet, for the first time, Damien became conscious of the risk he was taking with Vanessa. It alarmed him, the tenderness he was beginning to feel for her.
He’d had mistresses who could arouse his passion before, but softer emotions such as admiration and friendship and affection never invaded his affairs.
This warm, intimate sharing with a woman was new. And addictive. He found himself craving Vanessa’s company, devising excuses to be with her.