His pretense had nearly shattered when he saw her in that stunning golden gown, looking as magnificent as a queen, as enchanting as any male fantasy. His loins had caught fire, and it had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to refrain from sweeping Vanessa off her feet and carrying her upstairs to his bed, where he could spend the night ravishing her to his heart’s content, instead of attending a damned ball.
At dinner and for the rest of the evening, her cool, regal demeanor had mirrored his own attempt at remoteness. Damnation, he should have been pleased she was astute enough not to protest his withdrawal. The warmth that had once been so much a part of their relationship, the intimacy, the friendship, had ended, just as he’d wished. Yet, to his dismay, Damien had found himself missing the sweetness, the sharing, the softness of her smile…
And then had come the drunken assault on Vanessa and his own unrecognizable responses: his killing rage at the perpetrator and his fierce remorse afterward, when he had yearned to hold her and comfort her, to soothe away her distress. The depth of his emotion had stunned him.
Damien muttered a savage oath under his breath. He did indeed seem to be following in his illustrious father’s footsteps. He had vowed years ago he would never succumb to the blind desire that had nearly destroyed his father; he never wanted to care that deeply for any woman.
But Clune’s house party hadn’t provided an escape or satisfied his fierce need. His longing to possess Vanessa hadn’t ended, even when he’d sought out other feminine companionship in an effort to forget her. The bald truth was, he hadn’t wanted anyone else. He hadn’t been able to lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh as usual. And his restlessness, his empty longing, remained.
Damien hardened his jaw. He very much feared there was only one woman who could ease the burning desire inside him.
There was no use denying his intense need for her, Damien acknowledged grimly. He would simply have to let his obsession run its course.
It came as something of a jolt when, moments later, he saw a rider in the distance who looked very much like the object of his all-consuming thoughts. Damien hoped he might be dreaming, but when the rider grew close, he realized he was indeed seeing Vanessa.
He pulled up abruptly and sat waiting for her, cursing the quickening of his heart. Even in a worn riding habit, she looked beautiful. Desire stung him with fresh insistence, and he had to discipline himself severely to maintain an appearance of indifference when she reached him.
“I hoped I might find you alone,” she said, drawing her gray mount to a halt. “If you have a few moments to spare, I have something to ask you… a favor, if you will.”
“I am at your service as always,” Damien replied noncommittally.
A slight flush rising to her cheeks, Vanessa glanced around her with uncertainty. Surprisingly then, she dismounted and released the reins to let her mare graze. Just as oddly, she turned her back to him, staring at the distant landscape with its patchwork of fields and hedges and gentle woodlands. She seemed reluctant to meet his gaze.
Curiosity aroused, he waited.
“I have been thinking…” she began hesitantly. “About my situation. Regrettably, my association with you has brought me… an unwanted notoriety. However, it could yet prove to my benefit.”
“What do you mean?” he asked when she faltered.
She took a deep breath and cast him a fleeting glance over her shoulder. “I would like you to teach me how to satisfy a man’s desires.”
Damien frowned. “I’m not certain I understand.”
Slowly, at last, she turned to face him. Her chin lifted a degree in determination, but her gaze remained clear-eyed. “I would like to learn the skills a Cyprian should know… Whatever secrets that would make me alluring to even the most jaded lover, so that after my term as your mistress is up, I can win a wealthy protector who won’t be particular about my scarlet past.”
Damien felt his breath suddenly falter. She couldn’t be serious. Yet Vanessa was continuing in a low voice, all the more credible for its very calmness.
“I must be pragmatic, I’ve come to realize. A woman without any means of independence is at the mercy of fate. It is the way of the world, and I can’t change that. But I can try to make the best of it. Joining the demimonde seems to be the most feasible way for me to support my sisters.”
Almost absently she reached out to stroke the mare’s shoulder. “There are nearly two months left of our bargain, time in which I can prepare myself for a new sort of life. I calculate that if I make myself desirable to men, then I can improve my chances of finding one who might not be so very disagreeable as a bed partner, perhaps even someone who will be to my liking. I would be grateful if you could assist me. Your expertise in the art of seduction is unparalleled, and I doubt I could hope for any better tutor.”
Damien’s mind had gone numb. She wanted him to teach her a whore’s tricks, how best to use her body so that she could seduce some unsuspecting moneybags.
“In short,” she added quietly, “I should like you to teach me to be wicked.”
Her smile was strangely stoic and cut at his heart. Damien felt a mask descend over his face to hide his turmoil.
Was her request some sly ploy to play on his guilt? It was disappointing to think Vanessa Wyndham might be as mercenary as countless other members of her sex. Yet she’d implied that greed wasn’t driving her so much as devotion to her sisters. Was her concern for their welfare really any different from his desire to protect his own sister?
Other genteel ladies in her position might have demanded marriage in reparation for his brazen treatment of her. Instead, she asked only that he teach her how to pleasure other men, to groom her for a role he had foisted upon her against her will. Could he do it?
By any rational standards, he should be relieved by her proposal. If he could find her a rich protector, he would no longer have to feel guilty about ruining her. He could treat her coolly, could view their relationship as nothing more than a business arrangement.
Logically, her suggestion provided a good solution to their dilemma. He could indulge in his passion for Vanessa without concern for her future. More critically, he could let his obsession fade naturally, as it inevitably would, given time.
So why then did he fear such a new arrangement would leave him too vulnerable? Why, for one frozen moment, had he experienced a jarring sensation curiously like panic? And why now did he feel this odd numbness in the vicinity of his heart?
Damien shook his head, quelling the fleeting sensations of shock and confusion warring within him.
“Very well, sweeting,” he found himself saying, almost as if he were outside of himself, divorced from his feelings. “I believe I can manage to accommodate your wishes in the matter.”
Her instruction began that same afternoon, for why wait, Damien asked in a curiously dispassionate voice.
Rain was falling outside in a steady drizzle when he entered her bedchamber by way of the secret passage. Vanessa sat stiffly awaiting him on the chaise lounge, still attired in her riding habit. It was the first time Damien had visited her in daylight, and the gloom made the atmosphere seem colder, less intimate.
She stared at him uncertainly as he approached her, more nervous now than at any time since she had made the momentous decision to give herself to him fully. He still wore riding breeches and boots and was in his shirtsleeves, having removed his coat and waistcoat and cravat. His raven hair seemed very dark against the white cambric of his shirt.
Then he smiled, a slow smile that banished the gloom and her nerves with it.
“This will never do, sweeting,” he murmured in the warm masculine voice that never failed to bring her senses alive. “I can see that I have much to teach you. We should begin with how to receive your lover. You look as if you are facing an execution.”