Page 69 of After the Abduction

Thy judgement to do aught, which else free will Would not admit.

Milton’s Paradise Lost, sketched, but never worked, by Juliet Laverick when Rosalind talked about going on the stage

Juliet gaped at him, certain that she’d misheard. “You mean—”

“Let me make love to you.” His intent gaze sent luxurious shivers dancing along her spine. “I know you, Juliet. After your unwise elopement, you’d never give yourself to a man frivolously, even to learn the truth. If you share my bed, it’ll prove to me that you’ll keep an open mind and not be ready to condemn. It will prove you have genuine feelings for me.”

“And if what you say destroys my…feelings for you?”

“It won’t, I swear it.” He set down the pistol case just inside the door, then caught her hands and lifted them to his lips, kissing them with such gentleness it made her throat ache. “But if it does, you’ll still be free to do as you please, to marry where you will.”

“How? I’ll be ruined!”

“Yes. And I’ll be ruined—my brother will be ruined—if what I tell you sends you crying to Knighton or the authorities. So we both risk something, you as much as I.” He lowered his voice to a husky thrum. “If, however, what I say doesn’t send you fleeing me in horror, then we can marry and no one will be the wiser about what we’ve done.” He smiled. “Though we may require a hastier wedding than usual.”

How crafty he was. Surely he could guess how those words, hinting of a future for them with children and happiness and a real marriage, would affect her. Suddenly, she could envision them together, surrounded by their own little ones by day, wrapped in each other’s arms by night. The image seduced her more than any estate or title.

Goodness gracious, she couldn’t believe she was actually considering his insane bargain. “When?” she asked shakily.

Naked hunger flared in his eyes. “Whenever you want. Now. Here.” He jerked his head to indicate the open door. “This cottage has a bed, you know.”

She swallowed convulsively. Feeling awkward, she quipped, “Yes, but does it have a pedestal?”

He sucked in a breath. “It has whatever you want, sweeting.” He caught her up in his arms and carried her inside. All she could do was hold on and pray she hadn’t gone completely mad. Then he kissed her with such flagrant need that she was utterly lost. His body still held heat from the forge, and his embrace was like slipping into a warm pool of wickedness. Such delicious wickedness.

He tore his lips from hers as he reached the stairs. She only had time to glimpse the cozy surroundings before he was carrying her up and up, no doubt to the bedchamber above. Her heart pounding with an excitement she couldn’t squelch, she pressed her flaming cheeks to his chest. He smelled of fire and iron—strong, powerful smells that made her breath catch in her throat.

“Does anyone know where you are?” he asked in a rumbling voice. “How did you know to look for me out here?”

“Rosalind told me.”

Alarm swept his face. “How much does she know about us?”

“Not much. I’m not so foolish as to tell my sister I’ve been seeing you in private. But she has guessed that there’s something between us.”

“Has she?” Scant moments later, he’d kicked open the door to a small room dominated by a rumpled bed that would scarcely hold one person, much less two. Setting her down beside it, he turned her around and began unbuttoning her gown, impatiently, urgently. “Is there any chance that she and Knighton will troop out here to interrupt us?”

“They’ve gone to town for several hours.” She unpinned her hat and set it aside.

“Thank God,” he said hoarsely. He made her face him, heat flaring in his gaze as he dragged her gown off, leaving her in her filmy chemise. “I’ll need every bit of that time to make love to you as you deserve.” He skimmed her arms and hips and waist with his hands, a blind man feeling his way along uncharted territory. “Ah, sweeting, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

“Two years?” she teased, unable to resist.

A frown creased his brow. Turning away abruptly, he strode to the fireplace and bent to stoke up the nearly dead fire. “Your questions will be answered, Miss Inquisitive, but not just now. Later. After we’ve sealed our bargain.”

Not just now. Later. That rankled. It echoed too closely the way he’d treated her during the kidnapping—with the indulgence of a man in complete control.

“Everything is always as you want, isn’t it?” She unpinned her hair, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “You snap your fingers, and we all come to attention. You must always hold the reins, always be the one to say when and where things are done.”

He stalked back toward her, his eyes glittering dangerously. “What do you mean?”

“Charnwood. The kidnapping. Telling me the truth.” She shook her hair out. “Everything. Everything follows your timetable. You dictate your terms, and we all must accept them. You won’t tell me the truth without making love to me, so here I am.”

As if in a trance, he reached up to stroke the blond strands where they fell over her shoulders. “I didn’t ask you to seek me out. Not when you first came to Charnwood and not today. You began this discussion—not I. You could have stayed far away from me. Even now, you could go back to London and refuse my offer. I would never force you.”

“I know that. But leaving without knowing the truth is no choice for me.” When uncertainty clouded his face, she added quickly, “Don’t misunderstand me—I want this bargain. Not only because I want the truth, but—”

She swallowed, a little embarrassed. Yet she’d said she wanted honesty between them. “But also because I want to share your bed. Even if that makes me the most wicked creature in England. I don’t even care what you tell me afterward—that’s how badly I want it.” She managed a wan smile. “I suppose I thought to get the token resistance out of the way. Because we both know once you start kissing me I turn into a puddle of mush.”