Excerpt: The Temptation of Tulips
Copyright ©2009 Nina Rowan
"And I will tell you this." He stepped closer, and that potent rush of awareness filled her like water into a bucket. "I made a bargain for your hand in marriage. That's true. Perhaps not civilized, but I haven't been known for civility when it comes to getting what I want. I don't allow anything to stand in my way."
"I've gathered that," Saskia muttered.
"However," Bram continued, "you agreed to the offer. Although you've explained why, I care less about your reasons with each passing day. What I do care about is you honoring your promise. Ill-begotten though it might be. If you've no intention of doing so, tell me now. I'll break the engagement myself and be done with it all."
Saskia stared at him as an unpleasant sense of foreboding began to invade the area around her heart. "What about my father?"
"He'll have to find another financer."
She blew out her breath. "I can't believe he traded me for a boat."
"Do I break the engagement? If not, you go with me to the magistrate tomorrow and sign for the banns."
Saskia turned back to the birdcage, watching a buoyant canary flit from one perch to another and back again. Thoughts tumbled through her mind, spinning atop one another. Hanna, her father, Elke, Pieter, Mariel, the apprentice, Arend, the bloemisten. Bram. Her expensive tulip bulb hidden in the steps of his birdcage.
"Do I break the engagement?" Bram repeated.
Saskia started across the room, unable to look at him. Dizziness wove through her, giving her a brief sense of falling.
"No," she muttered. "Not yet."
"Wait." The commanding tone of his voice made her stop at the door. Her heart pounded in her head, blood thundering against her ears.
"I don't accept not yet," Bram said. "Yes or no."
In that instant, Saskia knew she could not turn back. Nor did she think she even wanted to.
"No."
She wrapped her hand around the doorknob and tried to turn it. Bram's bootsteps sounded on the marble floor and then he was behind her, close enough that she could feel him. She swallowed. Her hand shook, rattling the handle.
An odd lump formed in her throat. Part of her wanted to walk through the door, to leave both Bram and the Semper Augustus far behind, but overriding that desire was the increasing knowledge that she didn't want to leave.
That for all her battles against marrying Bram, for all her righteous indignation and her feeble attempts at manipulating the situation—through it all, she'd somehow become rather...accustomed to the idea.
More than that. It had begun to appeal to her. Strongly.
She turned. He was right there. She had the fleeting thought that if she were to marry him, he would always be right there.
He didn't move to touch her. She stared at the carved buttons on his shirt, her breath growing increasingly shallow. Before she could think too hard on her actions, she lifted a hand and placed it against his chest.
Warm, heavy, so solid. No man had ever elicited such a physical reaction in her, had ever made her want to please him in innumerable ways.
His chest moved with the force of his breath. Saskia slipped her hand up over his chest to his jaw, placing her palm against his whisker-rough cheek. He watched her with an unreadable expression. She touched his mouth with her thumb, a tingle washing through her as she remembered how possessive his lips had felt against hers. As if he were determined to make her his.
"I was right," he said.
She stared at his mouth. "About what?"
"You're not in love with another man."
"I—" The words dissolved in her throat.
"Say it." His features were still unreadable, but the steel tone of his voice brooked no denial.
She flicked her tongue out to moisten her lips. "I'm not in love with another man."
"Who was he?"
"No one. There was never another man."
"Never?"
"No. There was only you."
Satisfaction darkened his eyes and caused his mouth to curve. Before he could ask another question that would evoke feelings of regret and a significant amount of self-criticism, Saskia curled her hand around the back of his neck and rose on her tiptoes. Before he could say anything else, she tugged him down to her and pressed her mouth against his.
Any misgivings she might have felt evaporated like steam. Her body awoke, shedding tendrils of cold that still clung to her from outside. Her senses heightened as she rubbed her lips against his and moved closer.
He smelled like night and cold and the sea. His whiskers scraped deliciously against her palms as she held him to her, his breath warm against her lips. Her breasts touched his chest, and the light contact caused a burst of warmth to spread through her entire body.
His hands curled around her shoulders. He lifted his head. A waft of cool air spilled between them, nearly causing her breath to stop. She stared at him, at his dark eyes that burned into hers with such deliberate intent.
"What is it?" Her voice sounded rough, breathless.
"This is it. You start this now, do not expect to stop."
"I don't want to stop."
"Not just here." His fingers tightened on her shoulders almost to the point of pain. "You will marry me."
His words caused something to break open inside her, filling her with the sensation of a thousand light-filled butterflies. In spite of all her misgivings, all her arguments, she wanted this, wanted a marriage, wanted him.
It might have seemed easy to explain to someone else. Bram Vanderveer had wealth, power, influence. He was domineering and a bit of a stubborn arse, but any woman could overlook such flaws in favor of all he could offer. As Tante Hanna pointed out, as Bram's wife she would want for nothing.
And yet it wasn't quite so easy to explain to herself. There was something else, something more. Something that transcended wealth and comfort. An emotion that simultaneously thrilled and frightened her, the sense that she was entering a relationship far more complex and intimate than she would ever have anticipated.
A feeling that she could lose herself in this man if she was not careful. And that, perhaps, she might just want to be lost.
"Say it." His words burned against her lips.
Saskia closed her eyes. She drank in the scent of him, a heady combination that seemed to fire her blood. The dizziness she'd experienced earlier came back full force, only this time she knew he would be there to catch her if she fell.
"I'll marry you," she whispered, then swayed forward and let him crush her mouth with his.
©2009 Nina Rowan