Page 50 of Murder on the SS Leviathan
She had only to place the American in a compromising position. Cecile would draw her own conclusions and the affaire would be over.
‘I don’t know what you’re cooking up, but I’ve no appetite for it.’ Sidestepping, his glance went to the door.
That was the one thing she couldn’t allow. If he left, her scheme would come to nothing, and her chance would not appear again.
Before he could guess at her intention, she grabbed at the front of his jacket, yanking hard. Taking his seat, he’d opened all the buttons but one. This now broke from its stitches, flying somewhere across the room. Beneath, he wore a waistcoat and it was an easy matter for her to push her hand beneath and tug the shirt to hang loose.
‘What the Hell!’ His temper finally getting the better of him, he smacked her hand away.
But, she knew how readily fury turned to passion. With flashing eyes, she laughed. ‘You wish to subdue me? This is what you like, yes? You wish to push me onto the chaise and press upon me so that I cannot move. You want to put your hand roughly up my skirts and find the woman’s heat. You want me to struggle, to make the conquering all the sweeter. You are growing hard, yes, thinking of what you will do when I am beneath you?’
A look of dread passed over his face as he shrank back. ‘You’re crazy.’
Now was the time to press her advantage.
Grasping the loose hem of his shirt, she pulled him toward her. In a heartbeat, she had hold of his hand, her teeth finding the soft pad beneath his thumb. She bit down, not enough to draw blood but sufficient to make him cry out and swear again.
Just as quickly, she released him.
It was almost too easy—for she knew the moves of old. Lorenzo had liked to play this game, and she’d learned to be nimble. Before Mr. Robinson could retreat, she caught him full on the cheek with her palm.
The slap stopped him dead.
But, he was learning.
As she raised her hand a second time, he ensnared her wrist.
Laughing, she took a step forward and, with her free hand, grasped the waistband of his trousers. Pulling him into the curve of her body, she arched back, baring her throat.
At that perfect moment, the door opened.
* * *
It was as if Cecile had walked onto a theatre stage; as if what she saw were a tableau, the protagonists frozen in the pose that would bring down the curtain.
Neither moved, but Lance’s head snapped up. The look on his face was one of disbelief, and horror. A red mark was visible on his cheek, as from the slap of a hand. Lucrezia’s face was turned away, her upper body twisted, as if to escape the forcing of a kiss.
‘Lance?’ Cecile wasn’t sure if she’d spoken the word aloud. Her throat had tightened. Air didn’t seem to be going in or out.
Lucrezia whimpered.
He freed her wrist and she crumpled, falling against the nearby chair.
‘It’s not what you think!’ Lance was panting. ‘She said terrible things. I just wanted her to stop.’
Cecile fought to understand what she was seeing.
Both Lucrezia and Lance’s clothing was in disarray.
Had Lance forced himself upon her?
What had Lucrezia said several days ago? Something about Lance having propositioned her. She hadn’t believed it at the time; she’d admonished Lucrezia for being coquettish.
She’d chosen to suppose that Lucrezia’s imagination was running away with her. Her friend had been warning Cecile against forming an attachment, but she hadn’t wanted to listen.
Not all men were like Lorenzo. That was what she’d told herself.
Lance was honourable and honest. She could rely on him.
But, if that were true, why did he look so full of shame? Whatever had been happening before she walked in, he didn’t want her to know about it.
Lucrezia was fond of provoking. Waiting for Cecile to join them, she would have flirted. It came as naturally to her as breathing. Had Lance taken those toying, teasing invitations at face value? Had he been tempted?
A wave of nausea flooded over her that had nothing to do with the steady rolling of the ship.
She needed time to think.
Away from this room, away from the two people she’d thought she could trust.
As she fled, she heard Lance shout but she didn’t look back.
