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"It's a yellow poui tree, actually, it's just very small as yet."

She turned and waved him forward. "You see, the flowers are in clusters. They're quite delicate and won't last long, perhaps only another week."

He admired the yellow poui tree.

When he turned back, she was already at the stone bench and she'd picked up her glass. She was obviously taking no chances. As he'd assured Emile, she wasn't stupid.

He picked up his own and raised it in a toast. "To our evening. You gave me great pleasure. I trust we will spend another together very soon."

"Yes," she said and clicked her glass to his. She sipped it, found it remarkably delicious, and drank deep.

"Finish it off, Sophia, and if you like, we'll stroll about a bit more."

His rum punch went onto the ground and hers went straight down her throat.

Ryder said, 'You have beautiful breasts, but I've already told you that. However, I remember last night that your breasts seemed even larger. Isn't that curious? I suppose it must have been my lust, my fevered urgency for you that made me imagine such a strange thing."

"Perhaps."

"Why do you say perhaps?"

"You'd drunk a bit more than you should have, but you seemed to enjoy it very much. I didn't wish to take away from your enjoyment."

"It was very kind of you."

She kept walking. Why wouldn't he simply col­lapse? He'd drunk two glasses, surely it was enough. Uncle Theo had made it stronger tonight. But he sounded chirpy as a blue jay and his step was light and bouncy. She hated him and herself. If it weren't for Jeremy, why she'd . . . she didn't know really what she would do.

Ryder stopped and turned to face her. "I'd like to kiss you, Sophia. Odd, but I can't remember kissing you at all last night, except of course just a few for­ays before you pushed me away so you could strip off that scarlet whore's gown for me. It's odd, for kissing is something I much enjoy. Why didn't we kiss, Sophia?"

"You wanted me quickly. As you said, there was fevered urgency. There was no time."

"Now there is." He kissed her and she let him. She tried to force herself to kiss him back but she couldn't. She was a fraud and a cheat and she was very, very afraid of this man. Ryder was well aware that she was letting him touch her, not reacting, suffering him. It was enraging, but he wasn't overly surprised and oddly enough his anger soon stilled.

He gently pushed her away, holding her in the circle of his arms. "How do you feel, Miss Stanton-Greville?"

She looked up at him. "Why so formal, Ryder? After all, you are now my lover. None other, just you, and you will remain my lover, won't you?"

"Oh yes. You're marvelous. If I close my eyes, why I can see you taking me into your mouth, I can feel your tongue on me, the warmth of you. Yes, you gave me great pleasure. Tell me though, Sophia, isn't there something I can give you? Something you would like to have? I had thought to bring you a piece of jewelry but I didn't have time to go to Montego Bay. What would y

ou like, sweetheart?"

Yes, she thought, bitterness filling her, he had to pay the whore.' She wished she could tell him Dahlia's name and send him to her; let her get the gift. But no.

"Well," she said slowly, giving him a dazzling smile, "perhaps there is something I would enjoy."

'Yes? Just tell me and it's yours. A bauble, per­haps? A diamond or a ruby? Of course I want you again, tonight."

She didn't tell him. She sighed softly and fell against him, quite unconscious.

Well, hell, Ryder thought, as he lifted her. She'd succumbed more quickly than he'd expected. He gently laid her out of sight in the midst of colorful jasmine bushes, smoothed down her skirt, and rose. He gave her a small salute.

And he thought, as he walked quickly back to the veranda, now it's your turn, Uncle Theo. I suspect you'll be fairly easy, you old bastard.

And Theo Burgess was remarkably easy. There was only one old slave to see him when he car­ried Theo over his shoulder, quite unconscious, to his bed.

Sophie woke slowly. She felt strangely suspended, somehow separate from herself. Her head felt light, her thoughts scattered and vague. She felt slightly dizzy. It was morning, the sun was shining through the window.

But that couldn't be possible. The morning sun didn't shine in her window.


Tags: Catherine Coulter Sherbrooke Brides Historical