Page 26 of Beneath the Devil's Mask
She echoed doubtfully, “You want me? For what?”
His eyes widened in genuine surprise. Then a smoky heat drifted into his gaze. His lashes drifted downward, his stare tracing a slow scorching path from her lips to the exposed flesh above her bodice.
“Oh!” Anne shrank back. She wrapped the shawl tightly across her breasts.
“There is no need for you to bundle up so. It is not my intention to take you here and now.”
“Not now! Not ever!”
“That is another matter entirely.” He smiled at her, drawing up another chair. He sat so close that his knees brushed against hers.
“You must be quite insane,” she said. “You hardly even know me and yet you are telling me that you would ...
“Indeed, I would, and gladly. It does not take me long to decide whether or not I want a woman in my bed.”
His bed. Disturbing images sprang to her mind of a place as exotic as a sultan’s lair, redolent with seductive incense, satin and sin, Mandell’s lean hard frame tangled amongst crimson sheets. Anne swallowed. The fire in her cheeks became an inferno.
“How dare you say such things to me!”
“A lady of your great virtue? Alas, we both know my opinion of that. Virtue is the last refuge of those lacking courage or imagination.”
“And in which of those categories do you place me?”
“I don’t think you want for courage, Sorrow.”
He was accusing her of having no imagination then. He was very wrong about that. He could not know how her mind ran riot, focusing on his strong graceful hands, those long lean fingers, imagining the things they could do to her.
Mandell continued, “I am paying you the compliment of being bluntly honest. I could as easily seduce you with soft words, false pledges. But I admit my intentions toward you are quite dishonorable. The only promise I make is that there will be a great deal of pleasure for both of us.”
Anne could hardly believe that this fantastic conversation was even taking place. She stifled an outburst of hysterical laughter. For nearly twenty-six years her life had been as placid as a stagnant pond. Now, in the space of one night, she had to plot to abduct her own daughter and fend off an attempt at seduction.
“I have never had an improper proposal before,” Anne said. “I am not sure what I am supposed to say. Except, definitely no, thank you. My life is already in enough of a coil.”
“Perhaps I could help you untangle it, Sorrow.”
“You cannot help. If anything, you are making things more difficult, and please, stop calling me by that dreadful nickname.”
“But it suits you so well. There is a sadness that is never far from your eyes.” Mandell leaned forward in his seat. He managed to secure one of her hands. “What is wrong, Anne?”
“Nothing, except for the fact that you are tormenting me with these outrageous proposals. What makes you think anything else could be wrong?”
“For one thing, most women carry nothing more lethal in their purse than smelling salts.”
Anne’s startled gaze flew up to meet his. His eyes held hers steadily, knowingly. Of course, he knew. She had been foolish to think there was a chance he had not noticed the pistol.
“I am only carrying the pistol for protection,” she said. “From footpads like the Hook.”
“There could be a dozen Hooks abroad tonight and you would never heed them. What is it that really troubles you, dear heart?”
The softly voiced question inspired her with a strange desire to burst into tears. She shook her head.
“Only you.”
“I wish I could believe it was me that caused you to tremble so.” He turned over her hand as though examining it, the shaking in her fingers clearly visible. He ran his own fingertips over her palm, lightly stroking, evoking sensations that did nothing to stop the tremors coursing through her. He added with a sigh, “But there has always been something, or someone else. I would have the truth from you, Anne.”
A moment of madness came over her. She felt overwhelmed with a longing to unburden herself of all the fear and misery she had borne alone these past few months. It was wicked the things this man could do with his voice, his eyes. He could make it seem as though there were a chance that he might really care.
His grip upon her hand tightened, his voice becoming low and charged with an intensity that frightened her. “Trust me,Anne. Whatever, whoever it is who brings that look to your eyes, I will banish it. Whatever your unhappiness, your fears, in my arms, I can make you forget.”
