Suddenly You(76)

She had worn a pale blue, corded-silk gown with a low-cut back, and draperies of gauze that crossed over the bodice in an X pattern. The long sleeves of the gown were made of more transparent gauze, while her hands were encased in white gloves. The flash of her bare arms beneath the filmy blue silk made Amanda feel sophisticated and daring.

The French doors opened and closed. Amanda glanced sideways, her eyes so accustomed to the darkness that they were temporarily dazzled by the light from inside. “Back so soon, Charles? The line at the punch bowl must have shortened considerably since we arrived.”

There was no reply. Quickly Amanda realized that the dark silhouette before her was not that of Charles Hartley. The man approaching her was tall, broad-shouldered, and moved with a stealthy grace that could have belonged to no one other than Jack Devlin.

The night seemed to whirl around her. She swayed a little in her heeled slippers, her balance precarious. There was something alarmingly deliberate about Jack’s movements, as if he were bent on cornering and devouring her like a tiger with its prey. “What do you want?” she asked warily. “I warn you, Mr. Hartley will be returning to me soon, and—”

“Hello, Amanda.” His voice was silken and menacing. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“What?” Amanda shook her head in bewilderment. “You’re not supposed to be here tonight. You said you wouldn’t come. Why—”

“I wanted to wish you and Hartley well.”

“Oh. That is very kind of you.”

“Hartley seemed to think so. I spoke with him not a minute ago.”

A thrill of unease ran through her as his towering form leaned over hers. Unaccountably, her teeth began to chatter, as if her body were becoming aware of an unpleasant knowledge that her mind had not yet accepted. “What was said between you?”

“Take a guess.” When Amanda remained obstinately silent, shivering in her fine gown, he reached for her with a quiet snarl. “You little coward.”

Too stunned to react, Amanda went rigid as his punishing arms closed around her. His hand caught the back of her head, heedless of ruining her tidy coiffure, and he forced her face upward. She gasped, made a move to free herself, but his mouth dove and captured hers, blazing, insistent, feeding hungrily off the warmth and taste of her. Amanda quivered and pushed at him, struggling to ignore the wild pleasure that flared inside her, the eager response that was immune to shame or reason.

The heat and pressure of his lips was delicious, and her craving for him was so great that she actually panted when she tore herself away from him. She tottered backward a step, fighting for balance in a night that had suddenly been thrown wildly off-kilter. The brick wall came hard against her back, preventing further retreat.

“You’re mad,” she whispered, her heart pounding with a violence that hurt.

“Tell me, Amanda,” he said roughly. His hands slid over her, making her body quiver inside the blue silk gown. “Tell me what you should have said this morning at my offices.”

“Go away. Someone will see us out here. Charles will come back, and he—”

“He has agreed to postpone the betrothal announcement until you and I have had an opportunity to talk.”

“About what?” she cried, pushing his hands away. Desperately she tried to feign ignorance. “I have no interest in discussing anything with you, certainly not about some past dalliance that means nothing now!”

“It means something to me.” His large hand clamped over her belly in a blatantly possessive clasp. “Especially in light of the child you’re carrying.”

Amanda went weak with guilt and fear. Had she not been so alarmed by Jack’s contained fury, she would have sagged against him in search of physical support. “Charles should not have told you.” She shoved at his chest, which felt as unyielding as the mortar and brick behind her. “I did not want you to know.”

“It is my right to know, damn you.”

“It changes nothing. I am still going to marry him.”

“Like hell you are,” he said harshly. “If you were making the decision for yourself alone, I wouldn’t say a word about it. But there is someone else involved now—my child. I have a say in his future.”

“No,” she whispered frantically. “Not when I’ve come to a decision that is right for me and the baby. Y-you can’t give me what Charles can. My God, you don’t even like children!”

“I’m not going to walk away from my own child.”

“You have no choice!”

“Don’t I?” He caught her in a light but tenacious hold. “Listen carefully,” he said in a quiet tone that caused the hairs on her nape to prickle and rise. “Until this is settled, there will be no betrothal between you and Hartley. I will wait for you at the front of the house in my carriage. If you don’t come in exactly fifteen minutes, I will find you and carry you out bodily. We can leave discreetly, or we can cause a scene that will be gossiped about in every parlor in London on the morrow. You decide.”

He had never talked to her this way before, his soft voice underlaid with steel. Amanda had no choice but to believe him. She wanted to rail and scream, her frustration escalating to an unbearable pitch. To her utter self-disgust, she found herself near tears, like the witless heroines of the sensation novels she had always enjoyed making jest of. Her mouth trembled as she struggled to control her explosive emotions.