“You know I can’t.” Her voice was husky. Perhaps from tears. Perhaps because her desire stirred too.
“I know you can.” His grip on her hand tightened as if he tried to convince her through touch alone. “With the mess in the house, nobody’s paying attention to you. Or to me for once in my life. What harm can it do?”
She tugged her hand free and cast him an unimpressed glance. Hard to believe only moments ago she’d rested in his arms as supine as a dozing kitten. “Don’t be deliberately naïve, Ranelaw. You know exactly the harm it could do. You mean to cause harm.”
Yes, Dragon Antonia revived. But he’d had a heart-stopping glimpse of a softer, more malleable woman. He suspected if he got her alone, he could revive that pliant creature.
“Be brave, Antonia. We share a powerful desire.”
He expected denial. As so often, she surprised him. “I’d be absurdly self-destructive to act upon it.”
He paused to digest how readily she owned what she felt. It left him giddy. “There’s a summerhouse on the other side of the lake. Do you know it?”
“Yes, I know it.”
“Come to me there once the household is asleep.”
She shook her head and he read no uncertainty. “I have to stay with Cassie.”
“Let her maid sit with her tonight.”
She retreated, bumping against the bed. This room really was no bigger than a rabbit hutch. Something in him resented her poor surroundings. She was a woman born for silks and diamonds and marble halls. If he seduced her, would she agree to become his mistress? The prospect set excitement blazing through him.
She shook her head again and her hands clenched at her sides. “I won’t meet you.”
He took the single step to corner her and slid his hand behind her head. Since he’d released her, he’d missed touching her. Soft hair tickled his fingers. He stared hard into her eyes, searching for the concessions he knew she wanted to make, common sense be damned. “Tonight, Antonia.”
Again he expected her to evade him but she stood quiveringly still. He leaned forward and kissed her, a kiss rich with promise. Her lips moved softly in silent consent.
When he raised his head, he caught a longing in her face that made his blood thunder with anticipation. Yes, she wanted him. Perhaps almost as much as he wanted her, although in her inexperience, she probably didn’t recognize that.
He turned on his heel and left.
Chapter Eleven
“Toni, stop fussing.” With a peevish gesture, Cassie flinched away from Antonia’s attempts to bathe her.
The girl had started to improve the night after that astonishing hour Antonia spent with Lord Ranelaw in her room. She still couldn’t believe that he’d had her in his arms on a bed and hadn’t taken advantage. She still couldn’t believe he’d been so kind.
Kindness was a word she’d never linked to Lord Ranelaw. Although perhaps she should. He’d had her at his mercy in her bedroom in London. He’d had her at his mercy by the river. And again here in the manor. All three times, she’d escaped. Purely thanks to his good graces. Honesty forced her to admit her principles had provided no defense at all.
That hour had been three days ago. Three days offering Antonia a chance to be glad she’d resisted the temptation to meet him. It was always easier to be sensible when she wasn’t actually with Ranelaw.
Of course she hadn’t gone to the summerhouse. She wasn’t a complete fool, much as the marquess scrambled her brain when he kissed her. Ah, his kisses. If she closed her eyes, she still felt his mouth hard and demanding against her hand, then sweet upon her lips.
Ranelaw was such a contradictory mixture. No wonder he left her so befuddled.
Away from him, though, she saw her path clearly. She couldn’t risk breaking society’s rules again. For all that she often felt strangled as Antonia Smith, at least she was safe.
Cassie’s sudden improvement rescued her from having to decide. Antonia smiled to recall her astounded gratitude when Cassie had turned to her and enunciated a complete sentence. Nothing profound. A request for water. But the first coherent words the girl had spoken in two days, since she’d descended into sweat-soaked fever.
After that, Antonia had watched Cassie sleep without pain for the first time in five days. She’d sent up a joyous prayer of thanks when her cousin woke clear-eyed and clearheaded, if exhausted.
Three days later, Cassie was strong enough to resent her confinement. She couldn’t yet fend for herself, but she was well enough to complain. Over and over. Antonia was ready to scream. Even devoted Bella lost patience with the girl’s pettishness.
“I want to go downstairs,” Cassie said for the hundredth time in the last hour, then proved herself incapable of leaving her bed by breaking into a prolonged fit of coughing.
With an irritated gesture, Antonia plopped the flannel into the bowl of warm water. “You tried to stand this morning when we weren’t looking and I had to pick you up, remember?”