blinked. Then reality crashed in, and she sat up and pressed herself into the corner.
"I didn't mean to do it, either."
They glared, each blaming the other, when it had been more of a spontaneous combustion of ardor. What had come over them? They were like a pair of rutting dogs.
"Look," he started. "I've been t h inking about the other day." "And... ?"
"I said I wasn't sorry, but I was mistaken. I'm very, very sorry that it occurred."
"Why? And as a woman who's regularly accused of violent behavior, might I suggest that you be extremely cautious in your reply?"
If he claimed he hadn't enjoyed it, if he contended it had been all her fault and none of his own, she couldn't predict what she'd do.
"Ian is my brother," he stupidly reminded her.
"Yes, he is."
"And you're his mistress." "That, too."
"What we did was wrong." "Yes, it was," she agreed. "I feel terrible." "So do I."
"And I was thinking—"
"About what?"
"We have to tell him."
"Tell him! Are you insane?"
"I can't abide that we've betrayed him, especially when he's been so kind to me. The truth is like a tough piece of meat stack in my throat."
She wasn't swallowing it down too well herself, but she couldn't imagine admitting to the tryst. There were some men who didn't care if their mistresses had other lovers, but she was positive Ian Clayton wasn't one of them. They'd never discussed the terms of their arrangement, but they didn't have to.
While he didn't demand much from her, fidelity was the least of what was owed. He'd been a loyal friend, through many trying ordeals, yet she'd repaid him with perfidy.
She shook her head. "We can't confess." "We have to, Rebecca."
"We do not! It was a reckless whim. Though I can't figure out why, we're suddenly experiencing a physical attraction."
"That's putting it mildly."
"It was heretofore unrealized by us, but now that we're aware of the danger, we'll simply be more vigilant."
"We'll pretend it never happened? We'll sweep it under the rug?" "Yes."
"How will we accomplish this feat? I live with the man! Whenever I torn around, I bump into you. Am I to ignore you?"
"Yes," she repeated.
"What if I don't wish to ignore you?"
"What are you? A beast in the field that must copulate at the drop of a hat? You have to learn to control your base impulses."
"I'm a healthy, red-blooded male. It's not that easy."
He shot her such a potent, torrid look that she felt it down to the marrow of her bones. She stifled a shudder, glad for the shadows of the carriage so he couldn't see how he affected her.
"You're also an adult," she persisted. "You may suffer from passionate urges, but that doesn't mean you have to act on them."
"Is that right?"
"Yes, that's right."
He scoffed with derision. "You really are a cold one, aren't you?"
The charge stung, but she refused to let him know. "I'm called the Black Widow. Did you presume my reputation was unearned?"
"Yes, actually, I did."
"Then you're a fool."
"I guess I am."
"I'm fond of Ian," she said.
"You suppose I'm not?"
"I won't have him hurt by our folly."
"So it's better to he to him?"
"Yes, it is."
Her harsh words had wounded him, but it couldn't be avoided. He shouldn't have any illusions about her.
They were the same age, but compared to her and what she'd endured, he was a babe in the woods. Just then, he appeared so young and troubled, and she yearned to reach across the space that separated them, but she didn't dare. She was so tempted, but she couldn't risk another inferno. She stared the other direction instead, pulling at the curtain and studying the passing street.
She could feel him watching her, his elevated regard like a silky caress, but she forced down the need to revel in it. She had to maintain the distance between them, and she raised the only topic that mattered.
"Why does Lady Caroline keep showing up on Ian's stoop?"
T haven't the foggiest." "How often has she been by?" "I can't say."
"You must have some idea."
"I'm not Ian's
"I didn't mean to do it, either."
They glared, each blaming the other, when it had been more of a spontaneous combustion of ardor. What had come over them? They were like a pair of rutting dogs.
"Look," he started. "I've been t h inking about the other day." "And... ?"
"I said I wasn't sorry, but I was mistaken. I'm very, very sorry that it occurred."
"Why? And as a woman who's regularly accused of violent behavior, might I suggest that you be extremely cautious in your reply?"
If he claimed he hadn't enjoyed it, if he contended it had been all her fault and none of his own, she couldn't predict what she'd do.
"Ian is my brother," he stupidly reminded her.
"Yes, he is."
"And you're his mistress." "That, too."
"What we did was wrong." "Yes, it was," she agreed. "I feel terrible." "So do I."
"And I was thinking—"
"About what?"
"We have to tell him."
"Tell him! Are you insane?"
"I can't abide that we've betrayed him, especially when he's been so kind to me. The truth is like a tough piece of meat stack in my throat."
She wasn't swallowing it down too well herself, but she couldn't imagine admitting to the tryst. There were some men who didn't care if their mistresses had other lovers, but she was positive Ian Clayton wasn't one of them. They'd never discussed the terms of their arrangement, but they didn't have to.
While he didn't demand much from her, fidelity was the least of what was owed. He'd been a loyal friend, through many trying ordeals, yet she'd repaid him with perfidy.
She shook her head. "We can't confess." "We have to, Rebecca."
"We do not! It was a reckless whim. Though I can't figure out why, we're suddenly experiencing a physical attraction."
"That's putting it mildly."
"It was heretofore unrealized by us, but now that we're aware of the danger, we'll simply be more vigilant."
"We'll pretend it never happened? We'll sweep it under the rug?" "Yes."
"How will we accomplish this feat? I live with the man! Whenever I torn around, I bump into you. Am I to ignore you?"
"Yes," she repeated.
"What if I don't wish to ignore you?"
"What are you? A beast in the field that must copulate at the drop of a hat? You have to learn to control your base impulses."
"I'm a healthy, red-blooded male. It's not that easy."
He shot her such a potent, torrid look that she felt it down to the marrow of her bones. She stifled a shudder, glad for the shadows of the carriage so he couldn't see how he affected her.
"You're also an adult," she persisted. "You may suffer from passionate urges, but that doesn't mean you have to act on them."
"Is that right?"
"Yes, that's right."
He scoffed with derision. "You really are a cold one, aren't you?"
The charge stung, but she refused to let him know. "I'm called the Black Widow. Did you presume my reputation was unearned?"
"Yes, actually, I did."
"Then you're a fool."
"I guess I am."
"I'm fond of Ian," she said.
"You suppose I'm not?"
"I won't have him hurt by our folly."
"So it's better to he to him?"
"Yes, it is."
Her harsh words had wounded him, but it couldn't be avoided. He shouldn't have any illusions about her.
They were the same age, but compared to her and what she'd endured, he was a babe in the woods. Just then, he appeared so young and troubled, and she yearned to reach across the space that separated them, but she didn't dare. She was so tempted, but she couldn't risk another inferno. She stared the other direction instead, pulling at the curtain and studying the passing street.
She could feel him watching her, his elevated regard like a silky caress, but she forced down the need to revel in it. She had to maintain the distance between them, and she raised the only topic that mattered.
"Why does Lady Caroline keep showing up on Ian's stoop?"
T haven't the foggiest." "How often has she been by?" "I can't say."
"You must have some idea."
"I'm not Ian's
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