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It was a rhetorical question born out of the surprise of self-discovery. Is this tendency toward wickedness inherent in my blood? Am I truly tainted by my mother’s sin? It must be so, or she would be suffering an agony of conscience. Instead, she felt only desire and a sense of liberation.
“You’ve had your way with me, my lord, and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed it.” Gathering her courage, she forged ahead. It was now or never. “In fact, I’d very much like to repeat it. I propose that we become lovers, you and I.”
IN WHICH BARGAINS ARE MADE
ALESSANDRO WAS MORE than happy to oblige, of course, but the tone of her request was a trifle disturbing. He’d been propositioned countless times, but never in this odd fashion and never by a young, unmarried woman of respectable reputation.
It made him rather uneasy. Over the years, he’d met a number of ladies possessed of an angelic façade, only to discover they were the very devil once behind closed doors. Those experiences had been immensely enjoyable, but for some strange reason, he didn’t take any pleasure in the idea that she might be of that ilk.
“Why?” he asked.
Mélisande sat up and wound her arms about his neck, looking him squarely in the face. “Because I like you,” she stated, her eyes betraying just how very much she liked him indeed. “You don’t pretend to be anything you’re not. And because I’ve waited a very long time for someone to stir me again. Five years have passed since we met in Versailles, and until tonight, not a single man has managed to make me feel that way,” she added, caressing his ear.
“And what makes you think I’ll agree to this...arrangement?”
“Because you’re a man who seeks pleasure,” she continued in a wicked whisper. “And rest assured that what I propose is a friendship of sorts, not a romantic entanglement.”
Alessandro raised a brow. A friendship of sorts?
“I see,” he answered slowly. With a deep breath he took the bait. “Let us say I did agree to become your paramour; the pleasures we would explore naturally pose a certain...risk. Surely you don’t wish to bear a child out of wedlock?”
“There are ways to prevent such things,” she said dismissively. “I may be inexperienced, but I’m not entirely ignorant.”
The roses blooming in her cheeks belied the cool answer. “And what of your future husband?” he asked. “Will he not care that you’ve sampled the delights of the bedchamber with another?”
“I’ll worry about that—should I ever decide to take a husband,” she said, raising a brow. “My wealth will no doubt persuade him to overlook my past.” She inched closer, her sultry smile returning. “But before I settle for some boring country lord and the tedium of domesticity, I wish to first experience passion.”
Alessandro was stunned by the sheer magnitude of her naïveté. Such a sensual creature would certainly never be content with a boring country lord.
“I have no unreasonable expectations, Your Grace,” she continued, breaking
his reverie. Her dark lashes veiled her eyes, casting deep shadows across her cheeks. “I observed you for quite some time in Versailles, and I listened to your past amours when they spoke of you,” she confessed. “I am fully aware that you are uninterested in being bound to any woman. I can accept that.”
“Can you?” he asked, watching the play of moonlight across her delicate features.
“I can. When you are ready to move on, I’ll let you go—without any bitterness,” she added, flicking him a cautious glance. “In fact, I hope that, as with your former lovers, we may part as friends.”
After a long moment, he nodded. Now it was all becoming clear. Her body was his for the taking, but not her heart. “I am quite pleased to accommodate your desire to be educated in the ways of passion, but how am I to do so without destroying your reputation? You realize you have very likely already ruined yourself by spiriting away with me,” he warned.
“There is another way back,” she told him. “It will put us out near the ballroom. From there we can simply join the crowd, and by the time we’re noticed, no one will really know how long we’ve been gone. Does this mean you accept?”
He bowed with a flourish. “With great pleasure, my lady.”
Her happy smile was like the sun breaking through on a rainy day. He longed to kiss it, but they had not the time.
“We had better go,” she said. “The moon is already high.”
When she eased off his lap, a groan very nearly escaped him. He wasn’t going to be able to stand without embarrassment. Looking up, he saw her gaze resting directly on the source of his discomfort. When her eyes finally met his, the little imp wore a knowing smile. With a deliberately lecherous grin, he stood, fully revealing the strength of the desire straining against the confines of his breeches. “I’m afraid our conversation has rendered me unfit to rejoin the festivities just yet.”
Mélisande boldly perused the evidence of his masculinity. Stepping up, she placed a hand on his chest and slid it down toward the bulge.
Despite his delight at her daring, Alessandro knew better than to give in to the rash invitation. He clasped her wrist and halted her hand’s naughty descent, feeling it tremble in his grasp. She might play the wanton, but she was no light skirt, not really. He could tell the difference.
“I think it best to ease into our arrangement slowly,” he murmured, thinking of her reputation. He kissed the wayward fingers, watching her quiver in response. It sent another pulse to his already aching groin. This was going to be a long night. “Your hair has become disheveled.” He reached out to deftly smooth an errant curl back into place, and then focused his attention on her gown. “Turn,” he commanded, taking her by the shoulder and gently spinning her about.
The midnight silk had become hopelessly rumpled in the back where she had sat upon it. He twitched the wrinkles out as best he could, wetting his fingers to dampen the worst of them here and there. The air would dry it quickly, hopefully allowing the creases to fall out of the material.
“Presentable,” he proclaimed, looking her up and down with a critical eye. “No one would ever think you’d been shamelessly kissing me on a rooftop,” he teased. In truth, no one who saw her would think anything but that she’d been well kissed. Probably more than kissed.
