Forced Offer by Gloria Gay Page A

called.
    And recalling his current light skirt, Tania Carpelle, he wondered why he had not rested until he had wrenched her from Sir Oliver Chantal's grubby hands.
    It seemed ridiculous now. He would no doubt give Tania her  conge  now, for she was certainly not earning her keep. He realized now that what he had thought was passion in her was merely clever fakery, and he was disgusted, both at himself and her.
    And Lady Celeste! He was appalled at himself. He had been in danger of proposing marriage to that lady. Why was it that he saw her falsity so clearly now when he had not been able to see it before? Was it Wilbur's words that had put him on the scent? But no, he had planned on meeting her even after Lord Wilbur's veiled warning, or not so veiled, for hadn't he said Lady Celeste lacked propriety? He had hinted at his regard for her with the intention of formalizing relations with her, and she had hinted back, though in something more than a hint.
    And he had actually believed she loved him. Why was he now so certain that Lady Celeste was incapable of love?
    What insight into himself had he acquired of a sudden that made him see this? He was puzzled, and wondered if the shock of finding himself in such a bind as this incredible marriage had given his brain such a jolt as to make him see with clarity falseness and deception where he had seen none before.
    With a glance at the clock on the wall, Lord Berrington rose from the table. He had never felt an hour go slower than this one. He then went up the stairs, his step quick and light.
    The candle sputtered with the draft he created as he walked in and he saw that Belinda was already in bed but her face was turned toward the silver moonlight on the drapes, and she was not asleep. She did not turn toward him as he walked in, nor did she stir as he undressed, but with the uncanny knowledge he had acquired of late he knew that she yearned for his body as much as he was longing for hers.
    He realized for the first time since this journey had begun that he had not kissed her once. This struck him like a bolt and he wondered what she thought of it. She was such a sphinx as he had never known in his life, and he knew with a certainty that he would never know. He blew out the candle and reached for her. She turned to him and he embraced her.
    He immediately relieved her of her nightgown and tossed it on the floor without ceremony. He now kissed her neck and felt a lightning rush throughout his body that could not wait as he hurriedly thrust into her, her sharp intake of breath turning his blood to lava so that he felt his skin a furnace against the cool summer night. And even in this hurried manner he felt her passion assuaged and her long sigh mingling with his breath, and sighed with a satisfaction he had never felt before. He reached for her mouth and felt her soft virginal lips respond to him as only a virgin would, expectantly, unknowing. He parted her lips brusquely with his own and thrust his tongue inside her, violating her mouth as he had violated her maidenhood, making her his as nothing had done so before.
    She felt her gasp into his mouth and he kissed her with a wildness he had never kissed any woman before and felt tears sliding down her cheeks and got his cheeks wet with them. And he knew without being told that they were tears of joy.
    Again and again he kissed her until his mouth and hers were bruised and they were both breathless, gasping as if they had come up for air after almost being drowned.
    For a while they lay side by side. Then he reached for the wine and poured a glass for each. They drank it in silence, in the cool room with only the light of their friend, the half moon outlining the window.
    He stood up and went to get the sandwiches, for they were both hungry now. They ate of the food with relish, but in silence—in the deep soft silence of their strange alliance.
    They made love throughout the night. Each time they thought they could not muster the