Free Captives' Charade by Susannah Merrill

her, “to someone whose abilities to satisfy a mate for life are completely untested.
    “No Sarah, it appears that you have not compromised in the least. I would think you’d be willing to strike a better bargain, when you have so much to gain.” Stewart ended calmly, a twinkle lighting up his dark eyes. He knew that he had lit the fuse.
    Seething, Sarah sat straight up on the settee, her azure eyes blazing steel. “Sir, the audacity of your tongue far exceeds your crude behavior! I have nothing to gain by your pawing – and a great deal to lose!”
    “But you said it yourself,” Stewart replied, leaning forward, muscular thighs. moment – and at your age that is considered dire. At least my attentions will give your family cause to hope that you can yet attract a husband before one will have to be found for you.”
his forearms resting on his “You have no suitors at the
    But in truth, Stewart knew, she was far from desperate. Rarely had he met a young woman so beautiful or captivating. Her thick, chestnut hair hung in tumbling waves about her lovely, pure face. Eyes of the deepest blue were encircled by long black lashes and even though, at this moment, her face was contorted by her rage, a fine bone structure beneath the rosy hue of her flawless skin ensured that each expression was as appealing as the last. He remembered the delicious feel of her slim yet soft and pliant body next to his and he knew that if any other man had been able to get as close as he, she would certainly be claimed by now.
    Even as he taunted her, Stewart knew he’d be willing to bide his time to have her, for she was surely a prize. But at the same time, it would never do to openly approve of her virginal games, for he certainly did not. He was -- and always had been
-a man of expedience. When he wanted something, he assessed its value and paid the fair price. Lady Sarah Tremont was certainly worth his patience, but she, nor any woman for that matter, was due his name. Bachelorhood suited his temperament and lifestyle, and there was nothing here that he could foresee capable of changing his mind.
    His reverie was abruptly interrupted when Sarah suddenly leapt from the sofa, ignoring the pain it caused her to do so. Feet apart, her hands on her slender hips, she spit fury. “In my entire life, I have never been so insulted! Not only have you laid claim to my body – as if I were a trollop – you shamelessly offend me not once but twice today by suggesting that I have neither the propensities nor the means with which to attract a husband!”
    Shaking the flowing tresses from her face, she continued, “You are such an inept swain, lacking in the art of seduction, that you must force your intentions upon me like a rutting stallion. And when I counter your attack, you choose to ridicule me to save your own pride.
    “Your behavior is despicable, Mr. Chamberlain, and I heartily regret tendering a truce between us. And,” she bit off, shaking a finger at his face, unmarred by her tirade, “I will make absolutely sure that our paths never cross again!” CHAPTER 7
    Sarahhadneverbeensofuriousinherlife. Stewart Chamberlain, with his superficial charm thinly veiling a total disrespect for gently-bred women, had affronted her beyond her own comprehension. He was a brute without morals, an unscrupulous cad parading himself as a gentleman of taste, discretion and elegance. She hated and feared his composure and his complete domination of every encounter. He was like a beautiful black panther she had once seen in London – cool, aloof, disdainful – until he scented the trepidation of his prey. Then, without warning, a spring, and in one fell swoop, total annihilation.
    Her breast heaving beneath the rose gown, she jerked her blazing blue eyes from Stewart’s face, and, forgetting the pain in her left side, stomped off toward the library doors. So overwrought by her own anger and humiliation, she did not realize he was right behind her until