An Unwilling Conquest Part 55

Harry gestured to the armchair.

"Let's just wait and see, shall we?"

"No--I want you out of here." Lucinda couldn't tilt her chin any higher.

"Your presence is totally improper."

Harry's eyes glittered.

"Naturally--that's the purpose of these parties, in case you hadn't realised." His gaze fell to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"And speaking of improper--who the devil told you that gown was decent?"

"A whole host of appreciative gentlemen," Lucinda informed him, belligerently planting her hands on her hips.

"And I hardly need you to tell me what the purpose of this little gathering is but, for your information, I plan to have nothing to do with it."

"Good--we agree on that. much

Lucinda narrowed her eyes. Harry met her gaze with a stubborness as unwavering as her own.

A knock came on the door.

Harry smiled coldly. He pointed a finger at Lucinda's nose.

"Wait here."

Without waiting for any agreement, he swung on his heel and retraced his steps. He opened the door.

"Yes?"

Alfred jumped.

"Oh--ah!" He blinked wildly.

"Oh-- it's you, Harry.

Er--I didn't realise. "

"Obviously."

Alfred shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then gestured vaguely.

"Right-ho! Er ... I'll call later, then."

"Don't bother--the reception will be the same." The words were a dire warning. Harry shut the door on his old school friend face, before he could think of doing anything else with the vacuously good-natured features.

He swung back--to find Lucinda staring at the door in utter disbelief. "

Well/ What cheek!"

Harry smiled.

"I'm so glad you now see my point." Lucinda blinked, then gestured at the door.

"But he's gone now. You told him not to come back." When Harry merely raised his brows, she folded her arms and lifted her chin.

"There's no reason you can't leave now."

Harry's smile turned feral.

"I can give you two very good reasons."

They came knocking an hour or so apart. Lucinda gave up blushing after the first.

She also stopped urging Harry to leave; this was not the sort of houseparty at which she felt comfortable.

When the hour after midnight pa.s.sed and no one else came creeping to knock on the panels of her door, Lucinda finally relaxed. Curled up against the pillows on her bed, she looked across at Harry, eyes closed, head back, sprawled in the big armchair before the fire. She didn't want him to go.

"Get into bed--I'll stay here."

He hadn't moved or opened his eyes. Lucinda could feel her heart thudding.

"There?"

His lips twisted.

"I'm perfectly capable of spending a night in a chair for a good cause." He shifted, stretching his legs out before him.

"It's not too uncomfortable." Lucinda considered, then nodded. His eyes looked closed.

"Do you need any help with your lacings?" She shook her head--then realised and answered, "No."

"Good." Harry relaxed.

"Good night, then." "Good night."

Lucinda watched him for a moment, then settled down amid the covers, drawing them over her. Although it was a four-poster, there were no hangings on the bed; there was no screen behind which she could change. She lay back against the pillows; when Harry made no sound, did not move, she shifted onto her side.

The soft flickering firelight touched his face, lighting the hollows, throwing the strong bone structure into relief, shading his heavy lids, etching the firm contours of his lips.

Lucinda's eyes slowly closed and she drifted into sleep.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

WHEN SHE woke the next morning, the fire had died. The chair before it was empty.

Lucinda let her lids fall and snuggled down beneath the covers. Her lips curved in a lazy smile; a deep contentment pervaded her. Idly, she searched for the cause--and remembered her dream.