All Through the Night by Connie Brockway

Author:Connie Brockway [Brockway, Connie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-76833-9
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2010-12-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Did you think I wouldn’t know you? That I don’t carry the imprint of you burned into my skin?” he demanded in a low, furious voice.

“You’re hurting me,” she said softly.

His hands dropped from her shoulders. A couple nearby stared at them and, with a sound of frustration, Jack guided her back into the steps of the dance.

“God help me, I can taste you. My body knows yours. There’s no escaping such recognition.” His silky rough voice had never been silkier or more deadly. She’d thought she was beyond fear. She wasn’t.

She could feel the blood draining from her face. Play the game to its end. Pretend he referred to his gentle kiss outside the Norths’ town house.

“Colonel. Please.” She did not have to feign acute discomfort. “I am not as wanton as my actions the other day proclaimed me. I can only plead that your … your kiss took me by surprise.”

His lips curled. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Play these games with me.” His grip must have tightened once more because she realized that her fingertips tingled.

Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and the rain sheeted the glass pane with coursing water. The room closed in on her. Her head spun.

“It’s over,” he grated out. “Accept it. You’re mine.”

“Is this some sort of flirtation? Though I accept responsibility for seemingly encouraging your advances, I …” Her voice faded, a dim buzzing had begun in her ears. Hurt rolled over her in waves. No more Jack. No more tenderness. She’d already lost it all. “I must protest. I was caught off guard being unfamiliar with the ways of … your sort of men and—” Pain flickered in his gaze like a moon shadow crossing the luminous gray of his eyes. Say it. “I wish to remain unfamiliar with them.”

His head snapped back as though she’d slapped him. His lips parted and he drew a sharp breath. “You are lying.”

“Please, Colonel,” she said softly. “I find this conversation highly repugnant. Perhaps we should quit the dance?”

His eyes narrowed. A second passed and his expression smoothed, fury banked beneath the cool ash of his gray eyes.

“Oh, no, madam.” His tone was diamond hard and diamond polished. “I most humbly beg your pardon and beg you to finish this waltz.”

She should leave him. He’d given her more than ample cause. But she could not force the dismissive words from her throat, could not compel herself to abandon him on the dance floor. He did not await her answer.

They described a slow, elegant arc around the room. The music joined them in rhythms as austere and intricate as the game they played. Even through the thin silk tissue of her dress she felt the impression of each of his fingers, the breadth of his wide palm, the curve of his hand riding her flank. The feeling intoxicated and bewildered her, stunned her with sensual provocation, set her afire, and she thrilled to it.

This was self-immolation. Madness. She had to get away.

“Are you certain this is what you want, madam?” he asked.

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