Chapter Six

Zach set foot inside the bedchamber, eyes transfixed on the glorious nakedness of his captive indulging in a bath.

When Lily had handed him the breakfast tray, she’d given him no warning of what he would find. He should turn on his heel and leave the lady to her privacy. God help him, he stepped closer. Quiet. Aroused.

Though familiar with the seductive curves of the female form, he took a moment to suppress the bolt of desire. Only then, with mind over matter, did he indulge in the exquisite vision of feminine perfection.

Long wet hair fanned out about her shoulders. Wayward strands hung seductively over her forehead. Moisture beaded on her cheeks, lips and eyelids.

His gaze feasted on firm creamy breasts. Roseate nipples stood teasingly erect above the still water. Travelling leisurely south, tracing the contours of a narrowed waist and the swell of rounded hips, his eyes came to rest upon the auburn curls between her thighs. His suppression shattered.

Her bandaged foot hung languidly over the edge of the bath. For a fleeting moment, he imagined those lithe limbs wrapped around him. That thought shredded all self-control. His hands trembled. The china tea set rattled on the breakfast tray he held. The lady stirred.

‘Lily?’

Zach set the tray down and, with great effort, attempted a matter-of-fact tone. ‘Good morning. You slept well?’

Her eyelids flew open. Horrified, and with a rush of movement, she sat up, swiftly drawing her knees and hands to her chest. The water sloshed over the bath’s edge.

‘How dare you … you canaille. You bâtard! You …–’

He gave her no time to utter another expletive and grasped her upper arms, lifting her out of the bath. ‘Your French is impressive, mon cherie. However, I resent the attack on my character. Do not presume to know either my nature or my heritage. Me comprenez-vous?’

‘Do not presume you may take such liberties with my modesty!’

Zach stared into her visionless eyes. How did the woman manage to crawl beneath his skin so quickly, so easily? When she took a deep breath as if to continue her tirade, he silenced her with a kiss, deliberately shocking her with the bold invasion of his tongue. He kissed her deep and thoroughly. She stood stiff against him. When he broke the kiss she gasped for air.

Contempt for his actions showed on her face. She insinuated her hands between their bodies in an attempt to push him away. He wouldn’t risk her safety and so held her at arm’s length, mindful that if he let her go, she would doubtless fall near the bath and injure herself further.

He retrieved the linen robe on the stool beside the bath. He dressed her in it and cinched the belt around her waist. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Not nearly as well as if I’d occupied my own bed!’

Her sharp remark made him smile. ‘Then perhaps I could have accommodated you in mine.’

Her cheeks reddened. ‘Nothing could tempt me to do that!’

‘Nothing?’ He held her firm when she tried to shake free of him.

Her stare challenged him. Her body obediently relaxed beneath his hold. Doubtless she would rather yield to his questions than his kisses. The thought disappointed him.

He guided her to a seat at the table where he’d placed the breakfast tray. ‘I’m here to examine your foot.’

He knelt before her and unravelled the wet bandage. In his large hand, her foot appeared delicate and small. He used a towel to pat the skin dry and gently inspected the cut underfoot. ‘The wound is healing nicely. I’ll have Lily bring a fresh bandage to rebind it.’

Zach’s gaze lifted to her face, to the way she chewed her bottom lip as if biting back a retort. Did she keep her anger in check to avoid having him kiss her again? What a shame. He enjoyed the ensuing results when they verbally sparred.

He eased her foot to the floor. ‘I’ll leave you to enjoy your breakfast. Later, you and I shall have ourselves a little tête-à-tête.’

‘You will not force me to say anything you have no business knowing!’

Zach admired her strength of will and stubborn pride. ‘You are my business and you will tell me all I need to know.’

She shivered as if he’d doused her with a bucket of cold water.

In her night shift, Eloise lounged on a chaise by the window of her bedchamber, having endured the day’s tedium in solitary confinement. She was yet to face his questions and so spent the day scheming, thinking how best to extract from her abductor information about his identity. Understanding who might explain why. If she could be clever enough, she might be able to negotiate her own release.

Whilst she valued intelligence above appearance, she resigned herself to using the only tools available to her in achieving the desired result. Her looks.

She could shamelessly pander to a man’s physiological weakness and exploit his ego. And she wouldn’t be the first woman on earth to do so.

Free of the eye bandage and with the curtain drawn wide, Eloise imagined she was staring up at a starlit sky. Night air sifted through the slightly ajar window, giving her a taste of the outside world.

Lily had made routine visits, offering no conversation other than talk of meals and refreshments. He wouldn’t visit her now, given the late evening hour.

Unlike last night when he’d invaded her dreams. She’d been wickedly pleasured by a faceless man. Upon waking, her heart had raced, her breathing shallow. She’d known his voice. Her abductor.

The only activity to ever set her heart racing was riding her mare at a gallop across the fields, or engaging in vigorous swordplay against any who dared challenge her. If, in reality, intimacy between a man and a woman reached exhilarating heights such as in her dreams, then she’d be branded a wanton for embracing it.

Never had a man affected her so. Self-discovery could be so intriguing. Eloise willed her heart to beat at a more even tempo.

She’d been grateful that morning for the soothing hot bath with piquant aromatic oils Lily had prepared. Left alone to luxuriate in its warmth, tension had seeped from every muscle. So lost in her lassitude, she hadn’t heard the door open.

Hadn’t been aware of him standing there watching her. For how long? Her outrage had earned her something more devastating. She hadn’t expected to be lifted from the bath and held firm against lean, hard muscle. He had not seemed to care that her wet body dampened his shirt and breeches.

Even now, heat pooled in her stomach and between her thighs at the memory of such intimate contact.

The clock’s hammer struck its bell nine times and was closely followed by three knocks on her door. ‘Lily? Is that you?’

‘No.’

His voice startled her. She was not dressed appropriately to receive a man, and in her bedchamber of all places. Silly to feel vulnerable dressed in flimsy night clothes after having been plucked naked from the bath. She rallied her thoughts, recalling her brazen idea. A woman’s body beneath a see-through shift would work its own magic. Employ the right words and actions and make the enemy her ally. She counted to three, braced herself, and feigned a fearless, ‘Come in.’

The door sighed open, then closed. Did she hear his breath hitch in his throat?

‘How was your day?’ he enquired.

She turned her head towards his voice. ‘Long. And lonely.’

‘Do you pine for anyone in particular?’

Eloise ignored the baited, cynical undertones and employed a different tack. One she’d spent the day formulating in the hope of learning something of her captor. Now that the opportunity presented itself, she’d not let her scheming go to waste. She struck a casual air of indifference. ‘You have me at an unfair disadvantage.’

She stood and ventured several steps from the chaise. As predicted, he’d moved swiftly to her side, one hand stayed her arm. ‘Careful.’

He stood exactly where she’d hoped. Directly in front of her.

‘Unfair? How so?’

She laughed. ‘Come now, do you not see the irony of this situation? I’m blind. You’ve held me against my will, exploited my vulnerability, and still you’ve not explained yourself or your actions. You’ve kept me, literally, in the dark. What do you want? Who are you? At least give me your name.’

‘The less you know about me, the better.’

She’d predicted his guarded reply. ‘Best for whom? You, or me?’

He kept silent.

She pressed him further. ‘Had we been acquainted prior to our encounter on the terrace?’

‘No.’ His response came almost too quickly.

‘Tell me of your appearance without the mask.’

She’d anticipated his next move and latched onto his arm before he could step back out of reach. Though he could easily wrest free from her meagre restraint, she was pleased he made no attempt to do so.

‘You’re blind. What’s the point of describing appearances?’

‘Then let my hands become my eyes.’ Her heart pounded. Never before would she have boldly asked to touch a man, yet circumstance forced self-reliance. She had to take steps to escape. She had to at least discover something of his identity.

His silence gave her permission to proceed. Stilling her nerves, and summoning all her courage, Eloise moved closer, sensing his gaze upon her face. Heat rushed to her cheeks.

What were his distinguishing features? Strength of body, for one. Her hands followed the contours of well-developed, muscled arms. Broad shoulders befit a man who’d endured a lifetime of backbreaking labour.

Unsteady palms moved across his chest to discover his shirt unbuttoned at the neck. Her fingers fell into the hollow at the base of his throat. His skin burned as hot as Hades.

The clinical purpose of her mission dissolved into alluring fascination. Her hands settled over the rise and fall of his chest. His heart thumped. He stifled a groan.

Her senses sharpened. Driven by overwhelming awareness, she visualised every toned muscle of his abdomen beneath the sensitivity of her fingertips. She longed to make contact with his bare skin. What might she discover then?

A light breeze swept over her. She swayed. Hard, strong hands settled on her waist, steadying her. Like a spark to tinder, his heat ignited a flame in her belly. She sucked in a breath. Instinct, quickly ignored, warned her to step out of his hold, to abandon the disturbing folly of her examination. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what lured her. How could this stranger stir in her something so unfamiliar and devastatingly delicious?

‘I remember,’ she said, threading her fingers through unbound collar-length hair, ‘that this is the colour of midnight.’

  He breathed a ragged gasp when her thumbs pressed lightly over the line of his eyebrows. The butterfly flickering of his eyelashes titillated her sensitive finger pads. His lids closed. She made a study of his unmasked eyes.

‘And your eyes are the same colour.’

Exploratory fingertips glided over his cheekbones and down a straight nose to locate his mouth.

  Her eyes fluttered shut. Her knees grew weak. In last night’s dream his lips had worshipped her body. She’d writhed in pleasure. Now, standing before him, she touched that part of his face. In her mind’s eye she saw the shape of his arrogant mouth. Remembered the smooth texture of his lips, from corner to corner, top to bottom. Her index finger lingered over the vertical groove between nose and lip.

She resented her blindness like nothing else. But at the same time, it offered her a convenient shield to hide behind. It gave her an excuse, and bolstered her courage to pursue the identity of the man who held her prisoner.

Drawn by his warm breath and intriguing male scent, she lifted her chin and leaned into him. His hand guided the direction of hers and she gave in to the curious sensation of wet warmth closing first about her fingertip, and then along its length as it was drawn slowly into his mouth. The gentle pressure and sucking sensation alternated with his laving tongue. He repeated the action, sliding her finger in retreat, only to draw it back into his mouth.

A moan escaped her, fevered by the lascivious ministrations. Need burgeoned in her most intimate flesh. A small corner of her mind remained lucid enough to scream a warning, alerting her to make the connection between the carnal longing between her thighs and the sensual stimulation of her finger in his mouth.

Her eyelids snapped open. She breathed a shocked gasp. All attempts to wrench free of him failed when large hands locked about her wrists. She trembled. From fear, or desire?

‘Stop playing with me!’

His anger sparked. ‘Is it not you who has been toying with me?’

‘Certainly not! I was merely trying to …’ The words wouldn’t come.

‘To what?’

‘To … to …’

‘Provoke me?’

‘No! I only meant to –’

‘Fire my blood. Without recourse?’ His tone had turned to ice.

‘How dare you!’ She pulled free of him and stumbled backwards.

Strong arms caught her. He stepped her back, his body pinning her against the wall. ‘Did you not think of the dangers involved in deliberately stirring a man’s blood? Or of the consequences?’

‘No.’

‘Then save your neophyte fondling for your betrothed.’

His counsel confused her. Anger at herself, together with wounded pride, mustered action fast enough to slap him. Hard.

He cupped the base of her skull with one hand, and curled the other behind her back. His lips grazed her earlobe. Warm, whispered breath delivered a promise: ‘Next time you feel an urge to get to know me better, be prepared to get to know all of me. Is that clear?’

She understood completely. His hard length, pressed firmly against her belly, left her in no doubt.

He drew away. Booted footsteps faded across the floor. Eloise jumped like a skittish mare when the door slammed shut. Her trembling gave way to uncontrollable sobbing. Clutching her arms about her, she dropped to her knees, bowed her head, and wept in shame.

Zach sagged against the door outside her bedchamber. He could hear her weeping. Christ! What had he done? Blast him for a fool.

It would be days before the viscount returned from London, and Seth was out sweeping the locale to discover something of the woman’s identity. He’d have gladly accompanied his lieutenant if not for the risk of being recognised or raising suspicion. The viscount must not be implicated in the woman’s disappearance.

Curiosity and boredom had ground him down and led him to her door with the idea to check on her wellbeing. He should have walked away, as he had so many times during the day. He’d weakened, had convinced himself that he’d come to her room only to learn her name.

Fatal.

Had he known barely a stitch concealed those exquisite curves he wouldn’t have set foot in her bedchamber. He’d caught scent of her plan the moment the words left her mouth. ‘Then my hands shall become my eyes.’

Sail the stars! Did she have the slightest idea how the words had played with his mind? How his loins had stirred to life? How a handful of syllables had instantaneously stripped him of common sense and self-control?

He’d steeled himself against giving in to her game and to the temptation of her touch. Inner demons had mocked him, goading his participation if only for amusement.

Before he could do the right thing – the honourable thing – and put safe distance between them, she’d reached out and latched onto his forearm. In that moment of contact she’d irrevocably robbed him of free will, committing him to her devilry. He was at her mercy to be surveyed like an explorer mapping the terrain of a new continent.

With every inch of him she touched, she may as well have seared him with a hot poker. Her heat had burned through clothes to his skin, deeper than when he’d suffered the sting of the lash on his back. Her kind of branding he’d gladly endure.

In return, he’d selfishly taken advantage of her blindness, flagrantly regarding the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the shift. Homing his gaze on barely concealed, beaded nipples. The urge to reach out and tweak them forced his hands to clench into fists. The thought of those full lips and parted mouth paying homage to his …

He’d flung the image from his mind and set his hands to her waist to steady her. She’d trembled beneath his hold. Her voice, when remarking on his hair and eye colour, had been thick with desire. In her sightless eyes, and ever-shifting expression, passion sparked, flared, evolved. He’d witnessed candid curiosity morph into stark arousal.

She’d leaned into him, breasts to chest. He’d absorbed the heat of her body and imbibed an intoxicating feminine scent, exclusively hers. Potent and pure. Guiding her finger into his mouth had seemed, for all intents and purposes, a natural progression in her evocative exploration of him.

Except she’d been shocked by his indelicate deed. Pushed beyond comfort. He’d unintentionally caused her distress. For that, his regret ran deep.

But to suggest he’d treated her as no more than his plaything when it was she who’d asked to touch him? He’d taken her accusation as an insult. Regardless, he’d no right to castigate her in such a way. She was an innocent without doubt and had exercised her every right to demand an explanation for her abduction. He admired her cunning and method in her quest to use him and lay bare his identity.

If only things weren’t so complicated. He must wait for the viscount’s return with news from the London lawyer. Only then could plans be modified and executed.

Zach steeled his heart and mind to the sobbing sounds of his captive. How damned inconvenient to have developed an attraction to her. To lust after her.

She remained a pawn in his plan for vengeance. If she chose to marry Garth Fenton, than she was no better than the blackguard.

He strode from the house. Within minutes he emerged from the stables astride his horse and set the animal to a gallop. Perhaps, under the cover of darkness and in the solitude of mist-laden hills, he could purge all thought of her from his mind.

A futile exercise.

At an hour past midnight, Zach paused in defeat at the base of the staircase leading up to the lady’s bedchamber. One hand rested on the balustrade. The quiet hills had failed to clear his head. Her scent still tormented him. His skin burned long after her touch.

He clung to the belief that nothing, no one, and certainly no woman, would prevent his plans for revenge.

Movement to his left caught his eye. Lily emerged from the shadows, her expression one of sheepish concern. ‘My apologies for the late hour disturbance, Captain, but the lady –’

‘What about the lady?’

Lily wrung her hands. ‘She was crying for a long time after you left the house. I took tea to her door several times but she forbade me entry into her room. I just hope –’

‘I’ll look in on her. Thank you, Lily.’ Zach sprinted to her door, gently turned the handle and pushed it wide.

The sight of her lying on the floor, in the very spot he’d left her, sent him striding to her side. In the soft candlelight, tear-stained cheeks showed evidence of her having cried herself to sleep. He brushed wayward, satiny hair from her face and looped one soft-textured curl around his finger. Culpable insensitivity, backed by self-loathing, settled in the pit of his stomach.

His roughened thumb traced her jawline in a tender apology. He scooped her up in his arms, taking meticulous care not to wake her.

He laid her gently on the bed and removed the borrowed slippers, mindful of her bandaged foot. With the coverlet tucked about her, he pressed a tentative kiss to her forehead.

Low-burning wicks fizzled between his fingertips. It rankled to think he’d failed to learn her name, and that he should even care about the woman who possessed the face of an angel.

Zach added her to his list of flaws. She’d fast become many things to him. One thing above all else.

Forbidden.