Victoria's eyes widened.
“Rage that they should touch you. Rage that they should frighten you.”
Her mouth went dry, and she realized that she was having a hard time taking her eyes off his lips.
“Do you know what else I felt?”
“No,” she replied, her voice merely a whisper.
“Fear.”
She brought her eyes up to his. “But you knew that I hadn't been injured.”
He let out a hollow chuckle. “Not that, Torie. Fear that you're going to keep on running, that you will never admit what you feel for me. Fear that you'll always hate me so much that you'll run into danger to avoid me.”
“I don't hate you.” The words slipped out before she realized that she had just contradicted everything she'd told him in the last twelve hours.
He touched her hair, then cradled her head with his strong hands. “Then why, Victoria?” he whispered. “Why?”
“I don't know. I wish I did. I just know that I can't be with you right now.”
His head lowered until they were nose to nose. Then his lips brushed up against hers, feather light and startlingly erotic. “Now? Or ever?”
She didn't answer. She couldn't answer, for his mouth had already taken fierce possession of hers. His tongue swooped into her mouth, tasting her with palpable hunger. His hips pressed gently into hers, reminding her of his desire. His hand ran up the length of her body and settled onto the curve of her breast. He kneaded and squeezed, the heat of his skin burning through the material of her dress. Victoria felt herself peaking beneath his touch.
“Do you know what I feel right now?” he whispered roughly.
She didn't answer.
“Desire.” His eyes gleamed. “I want you, Victoria. I want to finally make you mine.”
In a panic, Victoria realized that he was leaving the decision up to her. How easy it would be to let herself be swept up in the heat of the moment. How convenient to be able to tell herself the next day, Passion made me do it; I wasn't thinking clearly.
But Robert was forcing her to confront her feelings and to admit to the overwhelming desire that was racing through her body.
“You said you wanted to make your own decisions,” he whispered into her ear. His tongue delicately traced its outline. “I won't make this one for you.”
She let out a frustrated moan.
Robert trailed his hands down the length of her body, pausing ever so slightly at her gently rounded hips. He squeezed, and Victoria could feel the imprint of each and every one of his fingertips.
His lips curved into a masculine smile. “Perhaps I should help you clarify the issue,” he said, touching his lips to the delicate skin of her neck. “Do you want me?”
She said nothing, but her body was arching up against his, her hips straining for him.
He slid his hands under her skirt and moved up her legs until they reached the warm skin at the tops of her stockings. One finger dipped beneath the edge, drawing lazy circles on her bare skin. “Do you want me?” he repeated.
“No,” she whispered.
“No?” He moved his lips back up to her ear and softly nibbled. “Are you certain?”
“No.”
“No, you're not certain or no, you don't want me?”
She let out a frustrated moan. “I don't know.”
He contemplated her for a long moment, looking very much as if he wanted to crush her to him. His face was hungry, and his eyes burned in the candlelight. But in the end all he did was roll off her. He got to his feet and crossed the room, the evidence of his desire making his breeches tight. “I won't make this decision for you,” he repeated.
Victoria sat up, utterly dazed. Her body was shaking with need, and in that moment she hated him for giving her the one thing she'd been asking for all along—control.
Robert stopped before the window and leaned on the sill. “Make your decision,” he said in a low voice.
The only sound she made was a strangled cry.
“Make it!”
“I-I don't know,” she said, her words sounding lame and pathetic even to her own ears.
He whirled around. “Then get the hell out of my sight.”
She flinched.
Robert strode to the bed and yanked her by the arm. “Tell me yes or tell me no,” he bit out, “but don't demand that I give you a choice and then not make one.”
Victoria was too startled to react, and before she knew it she had been pushed back into her own room, the connecting door slammed shut between them. She gasped for air, unable to believe how miserable and rejected she felt just then. God, she was such a hypocrite! Robert's words had cut to the quick. She had asked him over and over not to try to control her life, but when he finally put a decision into her hands, she was unable to act.
She sat on the bed for several minutes until her eyes fell on the package she'd so carelessly thrown aside several hours earlier. It seemed a lifetime had passed since then. What, she wondered with a shaky laugh, was Robert's idea of appropriate nightwear?
She untied the strings holding the box together and lifted the lid. Even in the dim light of her single candle, she could see that the lingerie was made of the finest silk. With careful fingers Victoria lifted the garment out of the box.
It was dark blue—a shade hovering somewhere between royal and midnight. Victoria didn't think it was an accident that the silk was the exact color of her eyes.
She sat down on the bed with a sigh. Her mind held a picture of Robert, examining a hundred nightgowns until he found one he deemed perfect. He did everything with such care and precision.
She wondered if he made love with the same quiet intensity.