She couldn’t look away from his heated gaze. He was bold, shameless, compelling-and she was falling hopelessly under his spell.
Damien sat on the bench to remove his shoes and stockings and rolled up the hems of his evening breeches above the knee. When he stood, Vanessa’s eyes widened.
“Never fear, I am not undressing entirely.” His tone was light, enchantingly playful; his eyes beguiled.
Moving to the bath, he sat on the ledge and swung his legs around to immerse them in the pool, before sighing with pleasure. “Will you come and join me?”
When she hesitated, he lowered his voice to a husky murmur, as seductive as sin itself. “Take off your slippers and stockings, Vanessa. Dare to live dangerously. It is not so very wicked to go barefoot, after all.”
Vanessa felt her willpower faltering, yet she remained immobile.
His voice dropped to a caress. “Indulge me, angel-eyes, if you won’t indulge yourself.”
When still she wouldn’t respond to his persuasion, Damien shook his head sadly. “Do you know what your trouble is? You are too repressed. You refuse to let out the passionate woman inside you.”
She winced as he struck a sensitive nerve. Roger had frequently accused her of being devoid of passion, and it hurt to have this man make a similar accusation, even in jest. It hurt more to know how Damien would react when he realized she was, in truth, cold and passionless. He wouldn’t want her in his bed then.
Her chin lifted defiantly. She didn’t want him to want her. And she had given him fair warning more than once that she would make a poor choice of mistress.
Although realizing she was allowing herself to be brazenly manipulated, she did as Damien asked, removing her shoes and stockings and joining him on the ledge. He had clearly known how she would react to his prodding, for she saw the satisfaction in his devilish eyes as she sat beside him. Feeling wicked all the same, she raised her skirts a few inches and let her bare feet dangle in the water, which was deliciously warm and soothing.
He slanted her an amused glance. “You really must learn to trust me.”
“I would more readily trust a wolf.”
In mock dismay, he clasped a hand to his breast. “Ah, fair witch, you wound my decadent soul.”
“Perhaps you should ask Dr. Underhill to bandage it for you.”
Damien laughed, a low, husky sound. “I cannot fathom why you are so skittish around me. I’ve never made any truly serious attempt on your virtue.”
“No? You could have fooled me.”
“I have kissed you but once, and that was before I knew you.”
“I would not say that you know me now.”
“Ah, but I do. I’ve learned a great deal about you in the past weeks. You are kind and generous. Spirited and clever-with a rapier wit I am hard-pressed to defend myself against. And you are afraid of men.” His blithe tone had suddenly acquired a serious edge.
Vanessa bit her lip but remained silent. Why ever had she been foolish enough to divulge her secrets to him?
“You shouldn’t allow one wretched experience to mark you for life, you know.”
She looked down at her hands. She didn’t want to fear men, to dread an intimate touch. She didn’t want to be burdened by her past, by the dark memories of her marriage. But there was little hope of banishing her ugly memories.
Damien seemed to read her thoughts, for his voice dropped to a mere murmur. “I intend to make it my chief aim to help you conquer your fear.”
It made her angry to hear him suggest his pursuit of her was for her benefit. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe your interest in me is altruistic? I am not that green, I trust.”
“No. I admit, I hope to benefit as well. A beautiful woman sharing my bed is reward enough.”
She could feel him studying her, and it prompted her to ask a question that had often preyed on her mind. “I… have wondered why you haven’t required me to fulfill our agreement. Is it just to torment me, to draw out your revenge?”
“No. Of course not.” He sounded surprised.
“Then why?”
“You aren’t yet ready.”