“At what?”
He turned the face in his direction, then turned it back towards Diana. “She’s you.”
“No…” Diana stepped back as though a physical distance would erase what he’d just said.
He didn’t seem to register that his statement had perturbed her. Which was odd when he was usually so in tune with her reactions. “Look again. I saw it immediately.”
“I can’t see it,” she said sharply, even as she fought to deny the emotion she saw in his striking face.
Laura had told her he was besotted. Ashcroft had told her he was in thrall. Now she couldn’t mistake the glowing warmth in his eyes as he glanced from the beautiful ancient head to his mistress, then back again.
She was going to hurt him, and she couldn’t bear it. And it was too late to retreat now. Too late for her and too late for him.
She bit her lip and turned away, reaching blindly for her wine. She was frantic to hide her extreme response to what was in reality just a small moment. A small moment that conveyed so much about the unforgivable damage she wreaked.
“Diana?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him place the head on the desk with a care that cut her. She’d seen that expression on his face before, when he touched her with such sweetness that he pierced her to the soul.
She raised her glass and emptied it in one gulp, hoping the wine would dull her anguish. She turned to face him. “Take me to bed, Ashcroft.”
He frowned. “What’s wrong?”
Her voice was brittle. “Nothing’s wrong. You’re here. I’m here. I want you.”
She didn’t lie. She always wanted him. But on this occasion, the shaking urgency stemmed from her need to shatter the rapport he seemed determined to establish.
Except, she admitted, when he made love to her, he inevitably fortified the bond between them. She was doomed whatever she did. Inch by inch, she sank into quicksand.
This time, when he looked at her, his expression was assessing, probing. He knew she was upset. He was even smart enough to work out why if she didn’t distract him first.
She waited for him to challenge her, but instead, a devilish smile tilted his lips. “Sometimes I think you only want me for my body.”
She forced herself to respond lightly while every instinct urged her to run away and never look back. Her heart wouldn’t be whole again. But perhaps if she left now, he had a chance of emerging without lasting damage from this entanglement. “It’s a very nice body.”
He tilted his head in acknowledgment, although his glance remained sharp. “Thank you.”
“Come upstairs and remind me just how nice.”
With pleasing alacrity, he abandoned the Roman sculpture, and Diana’s heart began to race with genuine excitement. As he stalked toward her, she tried to tell herself she exaggerated the significance of the sculpture, that nothing important had happened in Lord Peregrine Montjoy’s elegant library this afternoon.
But however much she lied to Ashcroft, she never lied to herself. With every day, she veered closer to damnation.
Chapter Nineteen
In their rooms in Perry’s house, Ashcroft lolled naked amidst the chaotic bedding and watched Diana dress, hating that she left him. Even if only for the evening.
It was almost three weeks since he’d waylaid her at the museum. Weeks packed with surprises, not all welcome.
One of the least welcome was that every time she went away, he had to battle not to insist she stay. No matter how long they were together, whether they made passionate love or argued some intellectual question or talked quietly about inconsequential matters, it was never long enough.
It just seemed…wrong when she wasn’t with him.
Like the world turned in the opposite direction or a waltz played with four beats to the bar instead of three.
Her back a graceful arch, her full bosom pressing impudently against the sheer white shift, she rested one stockinged foot on a chair and bent to tie her garter. The picture was enchanting, alluring. He crossed his arms behind his head and enjoyed the view. He couldn’t remember a woman who captivated him just with her presence the way Diana did.
She turned, catching him. That could hardly discomfit her—he constantly stared