fainting when his hard lips finally lifted.
Her eyes opened, misty and startled. She was still clinging to him, her heart beating madly against his chest.
He looked totally impervious to any emotion. A faint smile touched the mouth that had ravished hers.
"Will you fall if I put you from me?" he asked with quiet amusement.
She couldn't answer him. It had been earthshaking. But to him, it appeared, there was no such uniqueness. He wasn't even breathing hard.
After a minute, she pulled against his hands, and he loosened her at once. While she stood dragging in air, he calmly lit a cigar and stood smoking it, his eyes on the distant horizon.
She was a fool. She wondered why she could never see through his tricks. Perhaps this latest lesson would teach her restraint.
With a heavy sigh, she turned and walked back toward the house without another word. But he fell into step beside her, tall and elegant. Cigar smoke drifted down into her nostrils, harsh after the faint and delicate perfume of the rose.
He hadn't spoken, but when she started to go up the steps, his hand came out and prevented the movement.
"Your mouth still holds the evidence of my kisses," he said quietly. "Unless you want my mother to make unwarranted speculations, it might be wise to wait a bit before going inside."
The lazy observation was the last straw in a basket of them. She went up onto the porch and sat down in the porch swing, expecting him to go elsewhere. But he didn't. He eased down beside her and rocked the swing into motion.
Her stiff posture said more than any words could. He slid an arm over the back of the swing and studied her with interest, until her face flamed and her hands clenched in her lap.
"Darcy Valverde enjoys the gifts I buy her and the wealth and position of my name," he said quietly. "But she loathes the touch of my mouth on hers."
She couldn't speak. Her throat felt choked.
"In time," he added coldly, "she will learn to respond to me. Her family is one of the original ones, from the days of the old Spanish land grants. Like my own family, she is born to this country. You will not last the year, Miss Howard. You are too soft, and far too docile, to manage the rigors of this sort of life."
She felt her teeth clench. "Perhaps you are right," she said stiffly.
"There is, after all, more to a relationship between a man and a woman than kisses," he continued, forcing the words out. "Similar backgrounds and common interests are necessary. Darcy can ride like a cowboy and shoot like a Ranger. Despite her sharp tongue, she is accomplished as a hostess."
"She will be exactly what you require in a wife, Mr. Culhane. I knew that."
"I wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss you," he said flatly. "I think you had the same curiosity about me. It was best indulged before there were any formal ties to be broken by such an action. You have a sweet mouth. But it was only curiosity. Nothing more; Not on my part."
"I knew that, as well," she said without looking at him.
He stared at her hard for a moment, trying to read her expression. But it never wavered. She was untouchable on the surface. If he didn't remember so well how her arms had clung, how her mouth had answered his, it might have fooled him. It had been folly to give in to his hunger. Now he was faced with the task of pushing her away and making her aware that he wanted nothing more to do with her.
She was a child in many ways. He should never have touched her. The impulse had been building for days. Weeks. Just as well to have strangled it at birth, but his feverish desire had clamored for expression. It was going to be hard to forget her ardent response. Every time he touched Darcy for the rest of his life, he would mourn the eager submission of Amelia's soft mouth.
"So long as you understand the situation," he said curtly.
She got to her feet. "Indeed I do," she replied brightly. "Good evening, Mr. Culhane."
She didn't look back as she went into the house. In
Her eyes opened, misty and startled. She was still clinging to him, her heart beating madly against his chest.
He looked totally impervious to any emotion. A faint smile touched the mouth that had ravished hers.
"Will you fall if I put you from me?" he asked with quiet amusement.
She couldn't answer him. It had been earthshaking. But to him, it appeared, there was no such uniqueness. He wasn't even breathing hard.
After a minute, she pulled against his hands, and he loosened her at once. While she stood dragging in air, he calmly lit a cigar and stood smoking it, his eyes on the distant horizon.
She was a fool. She wondered why she could never see through his tricks. Perhaps this latest lesson would teach her restraint.
With a heavy sigh, she turned and walked back toward the house without another word. But he fell into step beside her, tall and elegant. Cigar smoke drifted down into her nostrils, harsh after the faint and delicate perfume of the rose.
He hadn't spoken, but when she started to go up the steps, his hand came out and prevented the movement.
"Your mouth still holds the evidence of my kisses," he said quietly. "Unless you want my mother to make unwarranted speculations, it might be wise to wait a bit before going inside."
The lazy observation was the last straw in a basket of them. She went up onto the porch and sat down in the porch swing, expecting him to go elsewhere. But he didn't. He eased down beside her and rocked the swing into motion.
Her stiff posture said more than any words could. He slid an arm over the back of the swing and studied her with interest, until her face flamed and her hands clenched in her lap.
"Darcy Valverde enjoys the gifts I buy her and the wealth and position of my name," he said quietly. "But she loathes the touch of my mouth on hers."
She couldn't speak. Her throat felt choked.
"In time," he added coldly, "she will learn to respond to me. Her family is one of the original ones, from the days of the old Spanish land grants. Like my own family, she is born to this country. You will not last the year, Miss Howard. You are too soft, and far too docile, to manage the rigors of this sort of life."
She felt her teeth clench. "Perhaps you are right," she said stiffly.
"There is, after all, more to a relationship between a man and a woman than kisses," he continued, forcing the words out. "Similar backgrounds and common interests are necessary. Darcy can ride like a cowboy and shoot like a Ranger. Despite her sharp tongue, she is accomplished as a hostess."
"She will be exactly what you require in a wife, Mr. Culhane. I knew that."
"I wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss you," he said flatly. "I think you had the same curiosity about me. It was best indulged before there were any formal ties to be broken by such an action. You have a sweet mouth. But it was only curiosity. Nothing more; Not on my part."
"I knew that, as well," she said without looking at him.
He stared at her hard for a moment, trying to read her expression. But it never wavered. She was untouchable on the surface. If he didn't remember so well how her arms had clung, how her mouth had answered his, it might have fooled him. It had been folly to give in to his hunger. Now he was faced with the task of pushing her away and making her aware that he wanted nothing more to do with her.
She was a child in many ways. He should never have touched her. The impulse had been building for days. Weeks. Just as well to have strangled it at birth, but his feverish desire had clamored for expression. It was going to be hard to forget her ardent response. Every time he touched Darcy for the rest of his life, he would mourn the eager submission of Amelia's soft mouth.
"So long as you understand the situation," he said curtly.
She got to her feet. "Indeed I do," she replied brightly. "Good evening, Mr. Culhane."
She didn't look back as she went into the house. In
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