Paying the Virgin's Price (Regency Silk & Scandal #2)(48)

It was not her parlour. But it was a lovely room, all the same. Under different circumstances, she might have found it comfortable, and the fire in the grate and the flowers above it would have seemed more welcoming than the cold ticking of a clock. She frowned. She had expected to feel more, somehow. Happy, or sad or more likely, filled with righteous anger at the man who had taken her home and worked to wipe the traces of her from it.

Instead, it was as though some portion of her anger was wiped away with the change. This was not her home any more. Even if she returned, a simple rearrangement of the furniture could not bring back the past. Nor could it change any of what had occurred.

The door opened, and Nathan Wardale entered, un-announced. He smiled at her, as though nothing had changed between them. 'Welcome, Diana.' He held out a hand. 'Benton did not help you with your cloak? Here, allow me. And then perhaps, a glass of wine?'

Rage simmered fresh within her. How dare he pretend that this was a normal visit, or that she wished his hospitality? 'Wine will not be necessary. Let us complete our business,' she said through gritted teeth. 'My cab is waiting, and I wish to return home before ten.'

'You told the driver to remain?' He gave her an odd look and then a pitying smile. 'I will go and send him away again. I would send a servant, but I have dismissed most of them for the evening. I assumed that you would prefer it.'

'The evening?' The insolence of the man was astounding. 'You misunderstand the amount of time I will devote to this enterprise.'

'And you misunderstand the amount of time it will take.' There was the smile, again. 'It is obvious that you have managed to retain the loan's collateral, for you are quite naive. You must allow that I am more experienced in the events that will transpire tonight, and permit me to set the timetable.'

Before she could speak, he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. She drew back the curtain and glanced out of the front window to see him offering a bank note to the driver before waving the man off. The view of the street was just as she remembered. But the red silk that framed it was nothing like the green she had been expecting. She closed her eyes against the dissonance, and tried to decide whether his high-handed behaviour made her angrier or just nervous. It definitely added to the sense of disquiet she felt, as she waited for him to return to the sitting room.

It had been easy to plot against him, when not staring into those deep green eyes. And so easy to forget that the man was a master gamesman, adept at disguising his true feelings while parting others from their valuables. She needed to be on her guard. For if she began to think of him as legitimate master of this house, what right had she to be angry?

When he returned, he was smiling again, as though he found her impending downfall to be faintly amusing. 'On this night, of all nights, you wanted to hold the cab, as though you were running an errand. I am curious. Just how long do you expect this to take?'

She wondered if the question was an attempt to draw out the action, or did it have some logical purpose? But then, she'd wondered the same about all his other questions, since the day they'd met. 'The minimum amount of time necessary. It has taken ten years of my life already. I do not wish to spend a moment longer than I must.'

She had meant the words to sting, but if they did, it did not show on his face. Instead, he shrugged. 'It will take as long as it takes. Not so fast as you might like. Nor as long as I would wish. If I were ham-fisted, selfish or cruel, I could have had you back in your waiting cab before now. We could conclude our business here, on the rug or against a wall, without even bothering to undress.'

He looked at her again and his gaze grew as soft and warm as it had been on their walks together in the park. And for a moment she weakened, wishing the man in front of her could ever again be Nathan Dale. Then he said, 'I have heard tales of Sultans in seraglios, taking days, even weeks over this process. The slow baring of the flesh, the destruction of inhibition, the readying of the minds and bodies of both participants, the evoking and sharpening of each sense to appreciate the final consummation. It is not a thing to be rushed.'

The timbre of his voice dropped, and his pace slowed to linger on each word, each image forming in his mind. Was it her imagination, or could she smell incense, hear the exotic music and taste dates on her tongue? She could see herself lying back in silk cushions, the height of decadence as he bent over her, caressing and perfuming her skin.

She caught her breath, trying to find her anger again, for the image had been strangely pleasant.

She saw his half smile change again, as though he knew what she had imagined and it pleased him. 'I will have you home by dawn. Not too late to save your reputation, if you have managed to conceal your absence.' He paused again. And then said, 'If you still wish to go through with this, that is. I have no intention of forcing you to do something you find abhorrent.' He paused once more time. 'It is not too late to change your mind.'

'No. I am resolute.' But her voice did not sound that way in her own ears. He had given her the chance to get away. Why did she not take it and run? Or take it as her moment of victory. She had but to say the words, 'Touch me and you will never see Helena,' and the evening would be at an end.

But when she should have spoken, her traitorous mind had been wondering how the impending process could possibly take weeks. She had missed her opportunity.

Perhaps time was an illusion. Because he was progressing so methodically that each thought, each smile, each word from his mouth, seemed to take hours to reach her. Several more heartbeats passed before he said, 'Very well. Then let us begin.' He touched her shoulders with his hands, brushing the cloak out of the way, and draping it gently over a chair. When he turned and caught sight of her dress, he froze in place for a moment, and she could feel his eyes travelling over her body, lingering on the exposed flesh.