The Abducted Heiress. Claire Thornton
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you choose to marry your steward? A man far below you in rank and wealth, when you could have anyone—’
‘No, I couldn’t,’ Desire interrupted him, her voice raw with remembered pain. ‘I’m a harridan. You just said so! I can have any man who wants to marry a fortune—as long as he’s not already encumbered with a wife,’ she added as a bitter afterthought. ‘That’s what you meant, isn’t it? That I should buy a young, virile husband? Then pretend I don’t notice when he scorns me for a beautiful whore? Or pay him for every night he condescends to lie in my bed?’
Jakob didn’t immediately answer. The rowing boat had long since come to rest against the riverbank, and now they were attracting a crowd of curious observers. The sun had nearly set. Soon it would be dark and he knew they were vulnerable. He’d left the iron bar from the prison on Desire’s roof. He had nothing to defend them with but the oars and Desire had all but announced she was a prize worth taking.
He manoeuvred the boat back into the middle of the Thames, determined to get them to the safety of Kilverdale House without delay.
He understood Desire better now. She was sitting bolt upright on the wooden seat opposite him, her shoulders braced with pride—but her head was averted. He was sure she regretted her heated, unwary words. He wasn’t proud that he’d provoked her into humiliating herself. Despite her determination to stand up to him, it was obvious how little experience she had of the world. He remembered only too clearly how she’d turned her back on him when he’d first appeared on her roof. She’d never learnt how to guard her emotions behind a mask of sophistication. Everything she felt was written in her expressive eyes. Anger, fear, indignation, curiosity…
He had to suppress a disbelieving laugh as he recalled how her eyes had boldly sought for the tell-tale signs of his arousal. In another woman he might have interpreted such a blatant assessment of his condition as a saucy invitation to continue his seduction. Desire, he had no doubt, was simply too naïve to disguise her curiosity.
As she’d already discovered, she aroused more than his curiosity. He found her passionate nature fiercely attractive. She’d fought him with uninhibited vigour outside the boathouse. He’d been acutely aware of her terror. He’d done everything he could not to hurt her. But even then he’d been partially aroused by her unrestrained resistance.
He wanted her. He wanted to transform her resistance into desire. He wanted to feel her supple, passionate body beneath his as he roused her to a state of physical ecstasy. He wanted to grapple with her, feel her arms and legs convulsively gripping him, as he pushed her over the edge.
He tried to suppress the erotic images that crowded his mind. He needed to keep a clear head. He needed to remember that the woman sitting in frigid silence opposite him was more than a passionate, hot-blooded wench. She was also a very wealthy woman. And her fortune made her a target for the unscrupulous.
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