Sidonie remained as trapped as she’d been since Roberta had flung herself upon her mercy two days ago. She should have known her attempt to leave after only one night would fail. While Merrick cajoled her into staying, she’d desperately struggled to avoid her fate. But the threat to her sister remained paramount. Last time William lost his temper, he’d broken Roberta’s arm and two ribs. If he learned his wife betrayed him with his worst enemy, he’d kill her.
At least Sidonie had wrenched a small portion of control back, but she didn’t underestimate how difficult Merrick would make it to maintain her virtue. She already found him compelling and he’d hardly exerted himself yet to suborn her. Even now, when she’d pledged her word to cooperate, her mind scurried hither and yon to find an escape. But there was nothing. Only her hollow claim that she’d cleave to her chastity, however he tempted her.
Believe me, tesoro, I’ll touch you over and over again, in ways you haven’t even imagined a man can touch you.
She hid a shiver as she recalled those low words, promising pleasures beyond her wildest dreams. A shiver of fear. Also a shiver of unwilling interest.
“Shall we shake on the deal?” He stood and extended one elegant hand in her direction.
Sidonie fought the urge to tell him he’d touched her quite enough. “Why not?”
As his hand curled firm around hers, heat tingled on her skin. Heat that had surged to flame when he kissed her palm.
As he lowered her hand, his knowing expression bolstered resistance. Privately she might admit he drew her on levels she’d never known. To his face, she meant to continue her defiance. And hope against hope a sharp tongue and prickly attitude saved her. Six days of discomfiting, unceasing awareness of her captor loomed ahead. More to the point, six nights.
She met Merrick’s silvery gaze and acknowledged with a sinking feeling in her stomach that six days could be a lifetime. Only seconds into their bargain and already she recognized the dangers of allowing him to touch her when and how he liked. The memory of his fingers trailing over her naked skin blinded her to her surroundings. She shifted uncomfortably against the window seat.
He’d made no secret of his sinful plans. At least he’d been honest with her. A grim voice at the back of her mind reminded her she hadn’t been honest with him. Not completely. Not about a discovery that would change his life forever. Her eyes faltered away from his as though he might read her guilty se
crets in her face.
“Have you had breakfast?”
She frowned and rose, even if it meant standing far too close to him. Perching on the window seat left her feeling disagreeably like a sitting duck. “Mr. Merrick, the way to my heart isn’t through my stomach.”
He arched his black eyebrows. “My sights are set on parts of you other than your heart, Miss Forsythe.”
“Oh.” She wished desperately he wouldn’t keep stealing her capacity for speech. For pity’s sake, what was wrong with her? He couldn’t undermine twenty-four years of rectitude with a mere kiss on the hand.
His thumb rubbed casually over the back of her hand. Except nothing he did was casual. “Given what we’ll become to each other, surely we can dispense with formalities. My name is Jonas.”
“I suspect it’s to my advantage to preserve formalities.”
“And I’m convinced of the outcome whatever we call each other, bella.”
“Oh, very well,” she said irritably. She straightened and withdrew her hand, surprised he let her go. “You may call me Sidonie.”
Why not let her go? He had her exactly where he wanted. Within pouncing reach. “Excellent. The idea of whispering ‘Miss Forsythe’ into your ear as I slide inside you is just too arousing.”
She flushed at the graphic picture he painted. “You can’t say things like that.”
He smiled with an annoying edge of triumph and stepped nearer, towering above her. “So early in the game, and you cry forfeit, Sidonie.”
Temper came to her rescue. He might treat her ruin as an unimportant trifle, but she wasn’t nearly so easy with what occurred. “I suppose I’ll become accustomed to your vulgarity.”
His laugh curled around her resistance like ivy clinging to a crumbling stone tower. “I’m sure you will, at that.”
He strode toward the door and opened it with a flourish. “Shall we proceed to the dining room?” He surveyed her with unreadable eyes. “Then perhaps you and I can share a ride.”
She blushed furiously. “Mr. Merrick—”
His smile turned wicked. “Now who’s being vulgar? I need to check the property after the storm. I thought you might like some fresh air.”
She marched past into the hallway. Six days. Then she’d be free, never to see the wanton and irritating Jonas Merrick again.
Those six days promised torments to shame the devil.
When Sidonie rushed into the stableyard, Jonas was talking to a small, wizened man who held the reins of two high-bred horses, a cream Arab mare and a large bay gelding. Without interrupting his discussion, her nemesis sent her a faint smile. She’d taken longer changing than arranged but he betrayed no impatience. Yet again, she contemplated the contrast between the Merrick cousins. William loathed the smallest inconvenience and lashed out if anyone delayed or obstructed him.