Helen Dickson by Marrying Miss Monkton Page A

white-hot heat that shot through her was a sudden shock that made her catch her breath and drag her mouth from his.
    ‘Charles, we cannot do this,’ she whispered in desperation, tearing herself from his arms, shaken to the core of her being. ‘You haven’t enough honour and decency to stop yourself kissing another man’s future wife.’
    Charles’s jaw tightened. ‘So much the worse for you,’ he said grimly. ‘At all events, when the two of you finally meet up, he will see that he has lost you.’
    ‘That will be for me to decide, not you, although I am touched by your concern—if that is what it is. If the chivalrous feelings you possess towards me are indeed genuine, then you may prove it simply by not taking advantage of my vulnerable and defenceless state by kissing me again. What am I to think—only that you are soliciting me for my favours?’
    Seeing a deep hurt underlying the anger in her flashing eyes, his anger melted. Lifting his hand, he tenderly brushed a dark lock of hair off her cheek. ‘I am not trying to pry into what your feelings might be, and I am not soliciting you for your favours, Maria. It’s just that after being alone with you for two days now and getting to know you better—you’re like a potent wine that has gone to my head. I just cannot bear to see you in the thrall of a man who is unworthy of you—a man who aspires to be your husband.’
    ‘I am not in Henry’s thrall, Charles—never that. To the man I marry I shall gladly yield all I have to give—as well as all the love and devotion and passion I am capable of feeling. In return I shall want from my husband love, honour—and fidelity. But whatever happens, I will make up my own mind in the end.’
    ‘I know you will, and I hope your decision will be the right one. And now I think you should go to bed. And don’t forget to lock your door.’ He turned in the open doorway and looked back, a smile curving his lips. ‘Sweet dreams, Maria.’
     
    Walking away from Maria’s room the smile remained on Charles’s lips. The kiss had proved what he suspected, that she had not the least idea of the mechanics of sexual intimacy between men and women. The suffocating prudery of her life at Chateau Feroc under the stern, autocratic eye of the Countess had kept her in complete ignorance of such matters. He had seen it reflected in the shocked and appalled expression on herface when he told her he was going to kiss her, and he had sensed it in her body’s lack of response when he had.
    But he was encouraged by the fact that her lips had answered his kiss. They had been soft and sweet and pliable beneath his own, and he would have liked to stay and educate her further, but seducing Maria Monkton was not in his immediate plans. For the time being, somehow he would have to cool the lust gnawing at his very being and try to forget how soft and sweet she had felt in his arms, to ignore the fact that she had set her hooks into him, and to control the strong attraction that seemed to bind his heart and mind to Maria.
     
    Maria stared at the closed door in a waking dream. How was it possible that after just two days Charles Osbourne could stir feelings she had never felt before? She was fearful of what might happen if he came to her again and seeked to finish what he had started. She had escaped this moment—not entirely unscathed, but nevertheless with her virtue still intact. That state, however, was most tenuous and would not withstand another persuasive, unrelenting assault.
    His kiss, his forceful persuasiveness, had been her downfall. He had known full well what he was doing to her, and the memory of what she had experienced in his arms made her plight all the more unbearable and she feared she was destined to remember his embrace for the rest of her life.
    And Henry? She had given no thought to him while allowing her mind to dwell on romantic thoughtsabout another man. Her emotions were torn asunder, and she could find no peace