ingredient to pleasure.
That and surrender.
She would have to learn to surrender, and he had to admit that he relished the opportunity to be the one who was there to watch her let go.
He groaned and tossed back a healthy swallow of brandy.
Honestly, he was mad. He should never have agreed to this folly. Hell, he’d been the one to suggest it.
But she was determined to ruin herself, so he’d talked himself into believing it was the wisest choice.
And it was.
Anyone else would have used her, then cast her cruelly aside, leaving her abandoned and likely humiliated. She thought those things couldn’t happen to her, that she could weather such storms, that she could be infamous and live without feeling shame. But she had a softer heart than she let on. Headstrong as she might be, she did not deserve to be crushed and embittered.
He would see to it that she enjoyed their affair and came out unscathed at its inevitable end.
Really, when he thought about it in such terms, he was doing a noble thing.
Hah!
What a fraud he was.
Just admit it.
You want her .
He drank more brandy and tried not to think about Ariadne in her bedroom only just down the corridor. Forced himself not to imagine her lying against the sheets, her fiery hair spread like a molten river over her pillows, her nightgown bunched against her milky white thighs.
Groaning under his breath, he resumed his reading.
But it was a long time before any of the words actually made sense.
Chapter Nine
A riadne covered a yawn with a hand as she walked into the breakfast room the following morning. Thanks to Rupert she hadn’t slept well—again. She’d spent the night tossing and turning beneath the sheets, her dreams filled with memories of their kisses and his promise of more to come. Part of her had waited all night, dosing off and on, in hopes that he would change his mind and come to her bedroom after all.
She’d awakened a few hours later, as morning light crept around the velvet curtains, surprised to realize she’d slept at all. Tired and irritable, she’d flung aside the bedclothes and padded barefoot into the adjoining bathing chamber.
After she took a warm bath and drank the cup of hot tea her maid brought, her spirits improved greatly, even though her weariness lingered on.
Attired now in a morning dress of spotted green muslin, with her hair pinned in a simple knot at the nape of her neck, she stepped into the breakfast room, only to stop short.
Emma and Dominic were seated at opposite ends of the breakfast table as usual, talking quietly. But this morning there was one other individual who almost never joined them. In fact, she could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he had.
Her pulse gave an annoying little stutter as she looked across at Rupert’s bold patrician features, his hair gleaming the color of ripe wheat in the morning sunshine. He lifted his coffee cup just then and took a sip, his midnight blue eyes moving to meet hers over the rim.
“Oh, good morning,” Emma chimed in a cheery voice, taking notice of her.
Ariadne entered the room. “Good morning.”
Nick greeted her as well, but Rupert just drank more coffee, then set his china cup into its saucer.
“Look who decided to join us this morning,” Emma continued, casting a speaking glance at her brother.
Ariadne met Rupert’s gaze again, careful to keep her own expression impassive. “ Hmm , so I see.”
Emma stirred her tea. “You could have knocked me over with a feather when he came in. How long has it been since you joined us for anything other than dinner, Rupert?”
He leaned back, taking a moment to consider. “Truly, I cannot recall. Yet somehow this morning seemed like an excellent opportunity to correct my errant behavior.”
A half smile curved his lips, his eyes gleaming in a way that reminded Ariadne of the night just past. Warmth crept over her skin and she turned away abruptly. It wouldn’t do to let Emma notice anything
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
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