Rosemary Rogers - Surrender To Love

Was it only terror that held her still after her first, shamefully brief attempt to tear herself free? Alexa felt her head fall helplessly back against his arm as he forced her lips apart to explore her mouth, and almost instinctively she raised her arms, meaning to beat against him with her fists before it—the same strange thing that had happened to her before—seemed to take hold of her. That frightening, helpless feeling as if all her bones were melting and running together, so that she could hardly stand and needed to hold on to him for support. Heat—suddenly flooding through her to make her face, her breasts, her whole body burn and tingle as if she had a fever that had rendered her mindless and incapable of resisting either him or her own worse instincts. She felt the rippling movement of the muscles in his back, even under the jacket he wore, and remembered without shame how he had looked naked—the feel of his flesh under her hands. And now her fingers touched his hair, wanting on their own to memorize its texture; and if she didn’t know what she was doing or why, she wasn’t sane enough to care at that moment. Not even when he brushed his fingers gently and teasingly down from her temple and along the arch of her neck—and even further down to touch her breasts, seeming to burn through the stuff of her gown and knowing exactly where to linger.

Why was she encumbered by so many layers of clothing anyhow? Alexa realized suddenly, or rather her body did, that she wanted the feel of his fingers against her skin, touching her everywhere, not stopping. No thinking to cloud this surge of pure, primitive feeling. She felt like a pitch-soaked torch, suddenly ignited and flaring into brilliant life; and yet at the same time she had no real understanding of why she felt so, or what it meant, or even of where such feelings might lead her. She had not even asked herself why she had so recklessly allowed herself to be carried beyond caution and carefully set boundaries as her body arched eagerly and almost fiercely against his and the sea-murmuring in her ears was the sound of their breathing, his and hers, as he held her and took her even more closely against himself until Alexa could almost feel that she was melting into him. Melting—dissolving…

It was Nicholas, in the end, who broke away; firmly disengaging her clinging arms from about his neck while he cursed himself for having allowed himself to be goaded into yielding to a wildly irrational impulse. Christ! He, at least, was certainly old enough to have known better and to have thought of the possible consequences. What if someone else had decided to come out here for a breath of the cool night air and had seen them? Unfairly enough, it would have been her reputation that would have been ruined, and he had neither reason nor any right to do that to her, after all.

She was staring up at him in a dazed fashion, her eyes wide and uncomprehending, her mouth…But he had better not start thinking along those lines again, Nicholas warned himself grimly. She was passionate, and obviously manready, as he had already gauged; and he could not prevent himself from almost regretting that he could not be the one who would take her for the first time, making her like it. But she’d probably end up marrying some clumsy oaf who wouldn’t take the time or the trouble to discover what a prize he had; and in the end she’d turn cold and hard, substituting expensive trinkets, which could be shown off, for feeling and emotion. For all that she seemed to be possessed of a daring and adventurous spirit now, there was no doubt that in the end she would be made to conform and would turn out exactly like all the other young women of her class and background.

Poor, pretty, ingenuous Alexa! A mixture of both pity and regret made his voice unusually gentle as he touched her face and was not able to resist lightly tracing the contour of her soft lips with one finger.

“Dammit, I suppose I should tell you how sorry I am for having allowed myself to get carried away; but that would be hypocritical, for I thoroughly enjoyed kissing you and I would have liked even better to have been able to make love to you, little moon maid. But I suppose that would have created quite a scandal, and I’m not as completely devoid of scruples as you accused me of being.”

“Stop it! Stop talking down to me as if I’m a child, even after you…Yes, you are a hypocrite of the worst kind, Señor de la Guerra, and I wish…I wish…No, don’t!” Alexa’s shaking voice suddenly became fierce, warning him to silence. “There is really no need for you to explain, or to say anything more. I think you proved whatever it was you meant to prove quite well, didn’t you? And I suppose I should be grateful to you for being so instructive in showing me the dangers of giving way to weakness. I shall certainly be much more careful and less trusting in future, I assure you! And now do you mind if we went back inside before my aunt begins to worry?”

Nicholas de la Guerra was a base, despicable libertine of the worst kind and had almost succeeded in spoiling for her the whole exciting occasion of her eighteenth birthday ball. Thank goodness he had decided to make himself scarce following the scathing setdown she had given him after he had dared to force himself on her, Alexa thought. She would dearly have loved to have said even more—to have told him in the most cutting tones exactly how much she disliked and despised him and how much the very memory of his insolent boldness in taking advantage of her embarrassment and fear of scandal disgusted her. But of course he was hardly worth thinking of, and since it was fortunately not likely that she would ever set eyes on him again she must really learn to put him firmly out of her mind like any other unpleasant or irksome thought that only served to disturb her. Some things were best left in the past where they belonged, and she should remember only that what was done could not be undone—although she had certainly learned a lesson that should serve her well in the future.

Her color high, Alexa tried to force herself into concentrating only on studying herself critically in the mirror. Her new riding habit, just made up for her, was a dark forest green. Not a color she particularly cared for, but Uncle John, who had helped her pick out the material and style, had told her emphatically that it was flattering to her and set off her hair to perfection. And after all, it was Uncle John who had paid for it, the darling. Turning around to view herself from every angle, Alexa thought that the tailor had done very well considering the short notice he’d been given. Of course he’d been paid double his normal charge, but that was still less than a tenth of what one would have had to pay one of the fashionable modistes in London or Paris.

Am I becoming as worldly and blasé as Aunt Harriet feared I might? Alexa wondered as she tried to perfect a bored expression before she started to smile irrepressibly at her own silliness. But she had promised her aunt that she would not let herself become too spoiled during her stay in Colombo with her indulgent Uncle John; and in fact she had even promised recklessly that she would at all times be unfailingly polite and respectful to the ferret-faced Mrs. Langford, who for her part couldn’t quite manage to disguise the fact that she disliked Alexa and would dearly love to find as many faults and flaws in her as she could to relate to her cronies. As if that promise wasn’t hard enough to keep, she had even had to give her word that she would try very hard to make friends with that silly ninny Charlotte Langford and would include the girl in as many excursions as possible; even when she was invited to go riding with Lord Charles. Hemmed about…! Alexa began to scowl at her reflection that scowled back. That was how she had begun to feel, surrounded by Langfords! And it was all the fault of that certain vile, inconsiderate wretch who had kept her out on the gallery with him for far too long a time, and against her wishes too. Otherwise she need never have been forced into making so many promises to Aunt Harriet, who would otherwise have continued to insist that since Alexa had proved how irresponsible she was and how easily she let herself forget everything she had been taught about decorum and what was proper and what wasn’t, they would both return home the very next day.