Corbin's Fancy by Linda Lael Miller Page B

them. He wanted to use her. “Damn you,” she choked out, “why can’t you just find yourself a whore and leave me alone?!”
    His hand was strong on her chin, forcing her to face him. His touch made her heart tumble and skitter inside her, like a stone flung over a steep cliff. “I don’t want a whore, Frances. I want you.”
    A tear trickled down Fancy’s cheek and glittered like a jewel on the side of his thumb. “Why, Jeff? So you can forget Banner? So you can take something that Temple Royce wants?”
    The hand tightened on her chin, fierce now, instead of tender. “What do you mean ‘so I can take something Temple wants’?” he demanded, in a sharp undertone.
    Fancy hadn’t meant to say that, she hadn’t even been aware that she was thinking such a thing. “Well—I mean—”
    “Tell me!”
    It was no use trying to evade him now, for he was not going to allow it, that was clear. “Temple has been looking for me,” she whispered.
    “What?!” Jeff was sitting bolt upright now and, mercifully, his hand slipped from her jaw. His eyes were demonic in the moonlight and the chill was back, reaching into the depths of Fancy’s bones.
    She lowered her head, ashamed and miserable and, now that she had permitted herself to think about it, scared. “W–When I was with Mr. Shibble’s show, I had to hide sometimes. Men would come around, asking questions about me.”
    Jeff’s hands closed over her shoulders, hurtful intheir strength. “You left without telling Temple?” he hissed.
    Fancy nodded. There was more, of course—Temple wanted to silence her, so that she couldn’t go to the authorities and tell them who had ordered the explosions onboard the Sea Mistress— but she couldn’t very well explain that to Jeff. Not when he himself had been the captain of that ship, the object of the attack. “M–Maybe he’s tired of looking for me—maybe he’s forgotten—”
    Jeff laughed and this time the sound was bitter, void of humor or warmth. “Temple? Woman, he’ll dog you until it rains in hell! And I hope to God he finds you!”
    Fancy blanched. “What?”
    The reply was a raucous shout of triumph. “In fact, I intend to make sure he finds you!”
    “No!” gasped Fancy, terrified at the prospect. Temple was not a man who took kindly to betrayal, and she would sooner have faced the devil than that man.
    Jeff didn’t seem to be listening; he was on his feet, wrenching Fancy after him. “We’re getting married tonight,” he announced.
    “We most certainly are not!” sputtered Fancy, shivering inside her blanket despite the strange heat fostered by the idea.
    It was then that Jeff caught the blanket in his hands and slowly parted it. It slithered off Fancy’s naked shoulders and pooled around her feet.
    Brazenly, Jeff cupped both her breasts in his palms, deliberately chafing the nipples to a state of throbbing response. Fancy groaned, helpless to escape, her mind swirling through a kaleidoscope universe.
    “You belong in my bed,” Jeff reminded her, in a soft, firm voice that seemed to deepen the treacheroustrance. “And you will be there, tonight and every night, as my wife or my mistress—the choice is yours.”
    Some shred of dignity made Fancy whisper, “But we don’t love—each other—”
    “Maybe we have something better,” he breathed, and his fingers were plucking at Fancy’s nipples now, making them stand erect.
    Fancy hadn’t thought it possible to feel both misery and reckless joy, all of a piece, but it was happening to her then. Still, she argued. “Th–There isn’t anything better than l–love—”
    He made his counterpoint by bending his head to sip languidly at her right breast. “Ummm—so true—” he conceded, as shards of raw, jagged pleasure pierced every part of Fancy’s trembling body.
    As best she could, considering that Jeff was making a feast of her, Fancy thought about her predicament. She could not resist this man and there was no pretending