“Your bedchamber.” With a gesture of his head, he indicated the passage behind him. “This runs along the outer wall of the sitting room next to yours, beneath the window seats, and continues on to my chambers.”
Silently he opened the secret panel to her room, demonstrating how the catch worked by exerting the slightest pull.
When he turned to go, Vanessa felt
a keen sense of regret. “You don’t mean to stay?” she was startled into asking.
His mouth curved in a sweet, sad smile. “I don’t trust myself.” He pressed a finger to her lips. “I want you very, very much, angel. More than you can possibly imagine. But I am willing to wait until you want me as well. When you are ready, I will not have to come to you. You will come to me.”
He left her then, taking the light with him. Almost unwillingly Vanessa entered her bedchamber and slid the panel door shut behind her.
In the darkness of her room, she wandered about, restless and unsettled, her thoughts on Damien Sinclair. Try as she might, she couldn’t forget the sensation of his body against hers, or the enchanting taste of his kiss, or the fierce explosion of pleasure he had aroused in her.
For weeks she had fought against succumbing to his powerful masculinity, but tonight she had lost the battle. Shamefully, though, she felt no remorse.
Briefly Vanessa shut her eyes. The memory of Damien’s embrace filled her with a sweet, aching longing that was totally foreign to her. He had taken her someplace she’d never been before, someplace brilliant and terrifying. She had become a stranger to herself, to the frenzy of desire that had overwhelmed her. Damien had given her a glimpse of paradise, shown her how desperately a woman could want a man. How desperately she could want.
Vanessa shook her head and shivered. How could he be so gentle yet cause such a tumult of violent emotions within her? Such passion and desire and fierce, fierce need? He was unlike any man she had ever known, a fantasy lover who could draw the very soul from a woman’s body.
Trembling at the memory, Vanessa disrobed and put on her nightdress. Mechanically she hung up her damp gown and brushed out her hair. Then she lay down on the bed, though she knew sleep wouldn’t come. The restless longing she felt would not go away.
For a long while she stared up at the canopy overhead, her breasts keenly sensitive, a hollow ache between her thighs. In the darkness, an unbidden image of Damien flowed into her mind. His sensual, chiseled features. His heated silver eyes, warm with tenderness. His beautiful, breathtaking mouth. His vibrant encircling arms that promised such rapture.
Her nerves raw with conflict, Vanessa rolled over and clutched the pillow to her body. The naked, frightening truth was that she wanted him. Wanted him to show her the mysteries of passion, as he’d promised.
She buried her face in the soft down, remembering his whispered words. When you are ready, I will not have to come to you. You will come to me.
Should she go to him?
Her heart took up a wild rhythm.
Slowly she sat up, her pulse beating in a slow painful cadence, while a knot of tension coiled in her stomach.
What would happen if she went to him?
She felt herself trembling. For an endless moment she fought a confused tangle of emotions: hope and fear, excitement and dismay, anticipation and disquiet.
What if she proved as cold and passionless as she feared? What if she did not?
In the end the decision was not really a conscious one.
As if in a dream, Vanessa slipped from her bed and lit a candle. Moving to the panel that hid the secret passageway, she found the catch and pressed.
Then, with her heart thudding in her chest, she took a deep breath and slid open the panel door.
Chapter Eight
She reached the end of the narrow passage and stopped, scarcely daring to breathe. The panel in the wall had a catch similar to her own, she saw.
Hesitating, Vanessa snuffed out the candle and stood alone in the darkness, her heartbeat painful and clamorous. At length, however, she gathered her courage and slid open the panel.
She had little trouble seeing, for the draperies had been left undrawn. The sweet summer night air drifted through an open window, while moonlight flooded the chamber with blue-white intensity.
The huge bed that dominated the room was occupied. The man on the bed lay absolutely still, cast in a glow of silver light and shadow.
She thought Damien might be sleeping. His hands were clasped behind his head, a pale linen sheet drawn up to his hips. But she was wrong. He was watching her. Her breath caught harshly.
In the hushed quiet of the room, their eyes locked.