Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)(60)

Chewing her lip with concentration, she wandered off into the bedchamber.

Rhys sighed. When was she going to realize that a return to innkeeping wasn’t in her future? With an impatient yank, he dragged a pale, gauzy shift free of her valise. He wished she would cease paying so much attention to the furnishings and spare a thought for him.

“Oh!”

Her exclamation of surprise tugged him across the room. From the arch separating sitting room and bedchamber, he spied her at the side of the bed.

The enormous bed. The carved mahogany posts were hung with rich draping, and the bed itself was a billowing cloud of snow-white pillows and counterpanes.

“Oh, my,” she said. “What a bed. I’ve never seen its like.” Placing both hands flat on the mattress, she leaned forward, testing its softness and give. As she bounced her arms up and down, her bosom and backside teetered cheekily, as if in invitation.

Rhys’s hands fisted in the tissue-thin muslin, wrinkling it irrevocably. He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

She turned and looked at him. Her dark eyebrows rose, as though she expected him to go on.

He didn’t have a damn thing else to say. The only word in his brain was yes. Yes, yes, yes.

Well, and perhaps the word now.

She knew it, too. Those slender brows arched with amusement. “Yes,” she said, hiking her heavy traveling skirt and lifting one hip onto the mattress. “It is indeed a remarkable bed.”

Transferring her weight to that hip perched on the edge of the bed, she slowly reclined sideways, stretching out her arm as she did. It was a slow, sinuous motion, like that of a cat stretching into a patch of sun. Propping herself on an elbow, she made her body one long, dark ribbon of femininity unfurled atop the fringed white cushions.

At last. Now he had her complete, undivided attention.

His heart battered his ribs, threatening to splinter apart the old, imperfectly healed bones. Other parts of him stiffened to iron.

She gave him a coy, seductive smile. “Won’t you join me?”

Rhys’s mouth went dry. Despite all his intentions to wait, to tease, to ply her with ruthless, exquisite temptation, and finally seduce her into a formal engagement … they’d been here five minutes and he was the one with yes on his lips. Yes, yes, yes. He could not have said anything else.

“It’s useless to resist,” she said in a sultry voice, picking open the top button of her jacket. “We both know you’ll give in.” She hooked her finger under the second button and gave it a playful tug. “I’m a woman, Rhys. When it comes to the bedroom, my will is stronger than yours.”

He laughed a little. But the words gave him pause.

On instinct, he should have dismissed the idea out of hand. No one’s will was stronger than his. That was why he’d survived so many fights. Hadn’t he spent eleven years in the infantry, always charging into the first wave of blood, hoping to meet a stronger opponent? The man who would knock him to the ground and finally end it all, at last.

It had never happened.

Until now. And it wasn’t a man threatening to vanquish him with sabre or musket, but a woman. A woman with curves of satin and a spine of pure steel. Give in, she said. My will is stronger than yours.

On this point, he suspected she was right. His resolve was quickly softening, even as his groin went rock-hard. Wasn’t this precisely what he’d spent a lifetime chasing? Sweet, blessed defeat?

And to find it on such a lush, silky field of battle …

Destiny whispered in his ear. She was beautiful, and she was his for the taking. Whether it happened today or next year, this was fated to be.

He would have her. Today. Yes.

Yes, yes, yes. And now.

With a deep, resonant sigh, he stepped toward her.

Her expression changed quickly, from one of seduction to one of surprise. Despite her teasing, she hadn’t expected him to give in.

He stopped. He hadn’t expected her to be surprised.

Tenderness warmed her eyes. In a generous, fluid motion, she reached out a hand and beckoned. “Oh, Rhys,” she whispered. The words were so soft they might have been a caress. “Come here.”

A sharp rap at the door halted him mid-step.

God damn it. Fate was playing cruel games with him tonight.

“That’ll be our dinner,” he said. He muttered to himself, “Blast it.”

“Our dinner. And our bath?” She rose to a sitting position.

Our bath. Well, there was a happier thought.

Rhys twisted the muslin in his hands, wondering which would be worse—answering the door with a wad of frilly muslin in front of his groin? Or greeting the servants with an obvious erection?

Smiling at his predicament, Meredith saved him by answering the door herself. Rhys took his turn studying the draperies as a parade of maids bearing steaming pitchers marched through the suite, each adding her cargo to the rapidly filling tub. He pretended to admire the view of the park as a manservant wheeled a small table into the sitting room, whisking away silver dome after silver dome to reveal a feast.

“Thank you, that will be all.” Meredith’s voice. And then the soft snick of the door.

Releasing his breath, Rhys turned to her. Grinning sheepishly, he held up the abused, twisted nightrail for her inspection before tossing it aside. “You won’t be needing it anyway.”

Her breath caught. “I won’t?”