Page 22 of A Tempest of Desire
He’d begun to suspect as much and wished he’d never asked, wished he hadn’t brought it up now when there was a coziness he’d never before experienced in this room. “Lovely day? There’s a blasted storm out.”
She slid her gaze over to him. “I’ve always loved the rain.”
“Is that the reason you went out in it? To be in the sky with it?”
She was still struggling to smile, her tongue touching the tiny cut. “I hadn’t considered that. If it affected my decision, I wasn’t aware of it. No, I like to be indoors when it rains. This is a wonderful chamber, with its massive fireplace, in which to wait out a storm. I’ve been giving some thought to your dwelling. It was a lookout, wasn’t it? A place to spot the enemy coming in.”
“Legend would have it so.”
“Will you live here when you take a wife?”
Was that jealousy he heard in her voice? He very much doubted it. “What woman would want to live in such isolation? To miss out on balls, shopping, and tea with friends?”
“Have you selected your lady?”
He gave her an indulgent grin and just held her gaze, until she blushed and looked away.
“Not my business, I suppose,” she muttered. “I’ve read nothing in the gossip sheets, so if you have, I wonder if she even knows. Probably not. You’re considered quite the catch, so I suspect she would be anxious for the world to know.”
With a shake of his head, he chuckled. “I think you might be able to tell if I’m bluffing at the card table.”
She slid her gaze over to him, and he felt like she’d pinned him in place as one might a butterfly to a board—to study and examine until all its secrets were revealed.
“It’s to my benefit to be able to decipher men, what they think, what they want, what they would die for.”
“And a good many would die for you.”
She laughed, grimaced, licked that corner of her mouth again. “Forme? No. For a chance to bed me? Possibly.” She shrugged. “Probably. Hollie took me to a symposium once. The subject was insects, of all things. Did you know the praying mantis bites off the head of her lover after they’ve copulated?”
He’d never heard any woman use a term related to sex, and yet he couldn’t envision her not being direct. Although the way she drew out the syllables ofcopulated, she might as well have saidfucked. “Perhaps he disappointed her.”
She laughed again, a sweet sound that reverberated through his chest. “Still, a rather rash punishment. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for days after we went. The poor creature gets to make love only once. Good Lord, but I do hope it’s an incredible experience for him. He pays a ghastly price for it.”
He’d never spoken so openly about sex with a woman—even if it was insect sex. That she would feel sorry for a bug and worry about his enjoyment... he couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t give the same care and attention to a man’s pleasure. He didn’t want to contemplate what she might do, how exquisite the intimacy might be. Yet all the images suddenly fluttering through his mind were of her in various positions, engaged in various actions. If he’d had her those few hours Hollingsworth had offered, he thought her walking away might very well feel like dying. Even if his head remained attached.
“My apologies,” she said. “Not appropriate breakfast conversation.”
“Most women I know would rather crush an insect beneath their shoe than worry over its... happiness.”
Her smile was small, as though she’d learned how wide she could spread her lips before her wound protested. “You may have failed to notice I am not like most women.”
“I haven’t failed to notice.” He hadn’t failed to notice anything about her. And that was the problem. He liked too much what he saw and was coming to learn about her.
And that placed him on a short path to disaster.
Chapter 10
Now what did I do to upset him?Marlowe wondered.
As though suddenly angry with her—or himself—Langdon had abruptly snatched her empty plate, grabbed his from the table, shoved himself to his feet, and stormed from the room as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. Or someone was after his head. Had her tale of the praying mantis offended him? He hadn’t seemed bothered by it. He’d looked at her as though entranced by every word.
At the symposium, she had been fascinated by the strange mating habit of the creature. She knew a few mistresses who would no doubt not mind having the ability to bite off the heads of their lovers. The women often complained that their chaps were either selfish or unskilled when it came to pleasuring them. Marlowe had the sense that Langdon would never have a mistress who was a member of the Praying Mantis Club.
She glanced around. The chamber seemed coldand barren without him in it. She wondered if he was planning on returning.
Gingerly easing off the sofa—every muscle, bone, and joint was announcing it had been a casualty of the storm—she wandered to one of the huge windows and gazed out. Its size made it perfect for storm watching. She’d been able to see little last night. It appeared the dwelling was on the edge of a rise. Of course, it would be to allow for the best visibility when searching for those who were coming this way with nefarious intentions. She wondered how many ships might have crashed here on moonless nights or during storms. She suspected hers was the only balloon to have done so.
The clouds were still heavy and dark, the wind howling, and the rain a torrential downpour. How much life could the storm have left in it?
