Hot Silk by Sharon Page

would result in death but felt just as nervous now.
    “You kept me safe from Lord Wesley and from Lord Wynsome…”
    That gave him hope.
    “But why kidnap me?” she demanded. “Perhaps you have more in common with your brother than simply a shared father.”
    He recoiled at the words. Christ, did she really think that?
    He gaped, nonplussed, as she wagged her finger at him. “It is easy for you to talk about being who I was meant to be. When society matrons learn I spent several days as the captive of the notorious Captain Sharpe, what exactly do you think they will gossip? That we whiled away the time playing chess?”
    “In a sense, we are,” he shot back. “But now we are just moving pieces aimlessly about the board. You’ve spent two years amongst the ton. How many marriage proposals have you refused? Rumor tells me it is at least two dozen.”
    “Not—not that many. And how can I accept? On the wedding night, my husband will know the truth.”
    “To be honest, I suspect most of those clods wouldn’t figure it out with a little artful maneuvering on your part, and I think you know it. There’s another reason—”
    “Of course!” she cried. “You’ve discovered my secret. I am pining with love for you, Captain Sharpe. A horrible, consumptive, unrequited love that I know can never be returned, that can never be fulfilled. I spend my days doodling hearts on my letters and fill my books with flowery renditions of ‘Mrs. Captain Sharpe’—”
    “Gah!” He threw his hands in the air.
    “You want me to stay. You want us to spend a few days together in your bed. And what is there in this for me?” she demanded.
    Her question shocked him and his tongue failed him. He didn’t know. Pleasure? Fun?
    “I will tell you what,” she said, her back to him. “Fleeting pleasure and then too much pain—that horrible feeling of loss again. I can endure frustration. But I cannot live with pain.”
    “Sweetheart,” Devlin said. “I cannot live without you.”
    Grace put her hand to her heart as a tight pain clutched at it and turned to face Devlin. “You know exactly what to say. But of course I don’t believe you.”
    Somber and brilliant blue in the light, his eyes held hers. “It’s the truth, Grace, love. Of course I have to live without you, but I’m not bloody pleased about it.”
    “I should think you barely have time to think of me at all. Do the six ladies here take turns in your bed? Does each one have a night, or do you have more than one at once?”
    Of course, he looked astonished. He had no idea who her father was. No idea that she had seen Rodesson’s erotic books and she knew exactly what exotic naughty pleasures men enjoyed.
    She knew exactly what men did sexually when they had power.
    At least the bold image she’d described had distracted him from what she’d done with her sharp words—reveal her jealousy, her vulnerability.
    “Forget about them,” he growled. “All I can see is you.” He stepped close to her, until her awareness of him overwhelmed her. He touched her—of course, he did. He must know she wanted to melt as he skimmed the back of his hand along her breast. A shift, a corset, a muslin dress, and a pelisse covered her skin, but his touched burned through them all.
    “Why don’t you undress?” she purred. Naked, he would be at a disadvantage. He could not chase her down the lane without a stitch on.
    She had to escape. Her grandmother was waiting and she had to—absolutely had to—go but it was more than that. For two years, she’d been haunted by memories of Devlin.
    Her blood was like molten wax, so hot beneath her skin that she was soaked with sweat. Her cunny ached with yearning and, really, she doubted her heart could beat any faster. She wanted him so much, so badly…she would never recover from this. She would never forget!
    Firm, tempting, his mouth grazed her forehead as he calmly undid his elegant cravat. Grace stepped back, needing distance between