Page 28 of Tempting Harriet
“No?” He looked back at her, his eyebrows raised.
“No,” she said again, and felt terror for a moment. Was she going to end it all here and now? Was there going to benothing but emptiness for the rest of the Season—for therest of her life? “I can’t, y-your grace.”
His eyes searched hers. He clasped his hands behind his back. “You will doubtless explain,” he said.
She was not sure she could, even to herself. “We are angry with each other,” she said. “You apologized to mebut did not really mean it, and I did not really forgive you.And yet you want me to go to bed with you? I don’t expectit to be done with love. We have both agreed that there isno love and no romance, only a mutual seeking for pleasure. But there has to be something a little more personalthan that alone. It is not just a—an acrobatic performance.Even though you say I am not a whore and I know I amnot, I will not be made to feel like one.”
He stood motionless before her for many silent moments while she examined the backs of her hands. “Harriet,” hesaid finally, his voice soft again, “I am truly sorry for myanger. It was quite unjustified. And for my arrogance. I cansee no possible reason why you are less worthy of being acquainted with my grandmother than I am. And I wastouched by your kindness to my aunt. Most people find hertedious. Will you forgive me? Please?”
She nodded imperceptibly without looking up.
“It is not love, what happens here,” he said, “or romance. But it is more than an acrobatic performance, Harriet. Goodheaven, is that how you have seen our encounters here?You give me more pleasure than any other woman I haveknown. You are still the sweet, prim little Harriet who soenchanted me six years ago. Sweet little Harriet with a temper. I like it.” He placed one long finger beneath her chinand lifted her face. “When you are on that bed with me, Iam aware every moment that you are Harriet.”
She gazed into his eyes, but it was impossible to know if the smile she saw there mocked her or not. But there wasgentleness in his voice. Yes, it was enough. It was enoughto know that she was not just any woman to him. That wasall she wanted. She knew there could be no love. She hadnever expected love.
“Harriet.” He drew one knuckle along her jaw to the point of her chin. “You are right I did treat you yesterdayas if you were some kind of fallen woman. I am accustomed to a different type of—lover, I suppose. Please forgive me. It will not happen again.”
“Archie.” She touched her fingertips to his chest and removed them again. “For what it is worth, I was as horrified and as embarrassed as you when I knew that I was in yourhome and with your relatives.”
“Forgive me?” he said.
“Yes.” When she looked up at him this time, she found his eyes burning into hers. He surprised her by taking herhand and carrying it to his lips. Then he leaned forward toset his lips against hers.
Ah, but it felt very much like love, she thought as her arms came about his neck. Too, similar. Far too sweet. Hekissed her with a gentleness he had not used on her before.She relaxed against him, trying not to feel the danger, theterrible danger of believing that she was more to him thanjust a body that he liked to enjoy. She must never start believing that they came here to make love. The only way tomake the end bearable, and the rest of her life bearable, wasto keep herself ruthlessly aware of the truth, that there wasno love at all. They had both said it again just this afternoon. It was finally agreed between them that there was tobe none.
Ah, but his kiss felt very like love.
“Come to bed?” he asked, his mouth against her ear.
She nodded and shivered. She had just refused to go because there was no personal feeling between them at all. Now she was afraid there was too much. Perversely, shewilled him to be more impersonal again—as he had beenthe last time.
“We will take it more slowly today, shall we?” he said, leading her to the bed even though he had not yet unclothedher. “More—tenderly, Harriet? Will you like that better? Iwill try to be less frantically aware of what little time wehave together. And we will rest when our bodies need rest.It is part of the experience of—enjoying each other. Youmust teach me to be the kind of lover you want.”
She looked into his eyes as he undressed her beside the bed, but she could see no trace of mockery there. Surelythat idea was a topsy-turvy one. Did not a man usually demand that his woman be the kind of lover he wanted?Could it be true that her feelings, her needs, her preferences, were important to him? Or was he humoring her because she had been angry and had refused him at first?
“Will that please you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Lie down, then,” he said, “while I get ready to give you your gentle lovemaking.'”
Lovemaking. She felt suddenly, more than she had felt on the previous two occasions, that she was playing withfire. And that there was no escaping being burned. He wasgoing to do it too, she thought, looking into his smilingeyes as he undressed. He was going to make love to her. Hewas going to give her what he thought she wanted.
And what she had thought she wanted.
“Dinner for twenty-four,” the Duchess of Tenby said, presenting her grandson with a written list when they hadretired to the drawing room after dinner. The duchess hadnever allowed her menfolk to linger over their port whenthey dineden famille.“I have included the people you especially asked for this morning, Tenby. The other suggestions are my own. You will notice that in addition to LadyPhyllis Reeder, I have listed the Kingsleys and their daughter, Lady Leila. She has been presented this spring, I gather,though she is barely seventeen. You may wish to considerher. Girls who are fresh from the schoolroom are oftenmore easily bent to a husband’s will than those who are intheir third Season. And she is a marquess’s daughter.”
The girl did slightly resemble a horse. Bruce’s words had been unkind but true. It was the narrow face and prominentteeth and rather long nose that did it. Now he was being unkind, even though he did not speak his thoughts aloud. Thegirl was just an infant and often looked frightened. Hermother should have insisted that she remain in the schoolroom for at least another year. The thought of bending herto his will did not appeal.
He looked at the list broodingly.
“So you see, Tenby,” his grandmother said, “that I am not tightening the noose about your neck. There will betwenty-three other persons here apart from Lady Phyllis. Iwill be interested in looking her over.”
His grandmother was amazing, the duke thought, his eyes scanning the names on the list. She had been in London for two days and had not been here for two years before that yet already she knew who else was there and whowas eligible to be invited for her public viewing of hisprospective bride.
“There are only twenty-three names on the list,” he said, counting.
“Eh?” His aunt had finished pouring the tea and had become interested in the conversation. He repeated what he had said in a yell.
