Captivated

by Bertrice Small

  "While I've missed my son's baby years."

  "Forgive me for that. But my life had to be sacrificed for this…" She lifted her hand in a brief sweeping motion that took in the broad vista of the city outside the windows. "And I thought you'd soon find other entertainments anyway," she gently added.

  "Didyou find entertainments?" His voice took on a sudden harshness.

  "I've been like a nun if you must know, while I expect you've been finding pleasure in your usual way." An unwished-for jealousy flared at the thought of his licentious prodigality. "Have you had any new children lately?" she murmured, the taint of insolence in her words.

  The wordnun had abruptly absolved the tumult of his bitterness and spleen. "What would you do if I said I'm staying?"

  "Answer my question," she said.

  "None. No children, not one," he carefully enunciated, understanding invidious suspicion and mistrust. "I haven't made love to a woman since you left."

  "I've heard differently." Her green eyes sparked.

  "Then Gregory is lying," he said with silky malice.

  "It wasn't Gregory."

  "One of the other advisers who control your life then."

  "I chose to come back; no one controls me."

  "Then free will isn't an issue," he brusquely noted. "Do you love me?" His voice shouldn't have been so chill, he realized. "Do you love me?" he repeated, a softer appeal in his tone this time.

  She gazedinto his beautiful dark eyes, then looked away, the crushing responsibilities of her life overwhelming.

  "I'm not asking if you're allowed to love me," he gently said, "only if you do."

  Her gaze swung back, and a lush warmth shone in her eyes. "You know the answer to that."

  "I'm not as arrogant as I once was," he said with a rueful smile. "Tell me."

  "I love you," she whispered, looking young and vulnerable in her summer frock. "I love you now, yesterday, a thousand years from this moment. I'll always love you."

  "Three years is a very long time to live without you," he quietly said, holding his hands out to her. "There were times I thought I'd lose my mind."

  When she still hesitated, he crossed the small distance between them and took her in his arms as though years and countries and politics didn't divide them. As though they were back at Woodhill and the sunshine of the world was shining on them alone. "I love you in every way a man can love a woman, and whatever you have to do, we'll do together," he murmured, holding her close.

  "This is a dangerous part of the world," she softly warned.

  "Then my son could use another guardian."

  She gazed up at him. "You'd stay?"

  "I'd do anything for you; you should have asked me three years ago."

  "I didn't know. Forgive me… for everythingwell, almost everything." Her smile lit up her face. " Sava looks just like you, you know; you couldn't deny paternity if you wished," she lightly asserted. "And he always wants his own way, toolike you," she went on with a grin. "Would you like to meet him?"

  "I would have taken on Gregory and his entire troop to see my son." His mouth quirked into a half-smile. "Love is strange."

  "And miserable at times."

  "Not anymore," he cheerfully declared, lifting her off her feet and swinging her up into his arms. "From now on," he murmured, smiling down at her, "we're the luckiest people on earth."

  When father and son met short moments later, Sava raised his pudgy hands to his father and repeated the wordPapa his mother had used, his babyish smile open and warm.

  His eyes glistening with emotion, Hugh glanced at the princess and whispered, "Thank you," before lifting the young toddler into his arms. He spoke to him in a low, gentle voice, telling him of his journey, of the trains and ships that would interest a young child, and before long, father and son were busily engrossed in the mechanics of a beautifully wrought model of a new steam-driven automobile.

  They were like a matched pair, their features so pure and fine the princess marveled that the Crewe pedigree bred true to such a finite degree. Two dark, ruffled heads were bent over the delicate mechanism, identical black ochre eyes scrutinized the auto, and when they sent it racing down the nursery floor, they both laughed with the same abandon. Hugh Dalsany and Sava became fast friends that day, and in the years to come, the Marquis of Crewe reconciled to the role of legal guardian to the young prince. Guided him, nurtured him, loved him as a father.

  The marquis and Mariana married when the prince was five, and three more children were born of the happy union. They stayed in the mountain kingdom far from the tumultuous events of Europe until the Treaty of Versailles rearranged the map of Europe once again, wiping away the last of the isolated Balkan principalities.

  The duke took his family home to England then, to the estates he'd inherited on the death of his father years before. And the Duke and Duchess of Temerley, along with their children, lived a quiet, private life of great happiness.

  Because of love.

  And the rustication he'd once contemplated out of frustration and ennui became instead his blissful solace and content.

  Dark Desires by Thea Devine

  chapter 1

  "If you force me to marry that man, I will never,ever let him touch me…"

  She had said it; she had meant it. And now she stood beside Courtland Summerville, powerless, still as stone, hiding behind her veil, her pride, and her rock-ribbed determination to never ever submit to him.

  He was not the man she was supposed to marry.

  He was a monster, and her father had sacrificed her to him, and she couldn't look at him, or the crowded church, or at the minister without feeling like the whole thing was a nightmare.

  She hated him. And she hated Gerard Lenoir, the man she loved, who had just stood by andlet her father give her to Court. It was inexplicable, unforgivable, that he hadn't even fought for her, and she would never understand why.

  She felt as if she were all alone in that church, that there was no one there for her, and that the man who had walked her down the aisle and handed her over to Court was a stranger.

  She heard the words of the service; she heard Court's strong burnished voice reply to the time-honored questions of love, honor, and duty in the affirmative, and her heart started pounding painfully.

  Had she truly thought he would say no, he wouldn't. Take her.

  Oh, God, take her…

  Or that Gerard would charge up the aisle at the last minute to save her?

  Gerard was nothing less than a craven coward, brought to heel by the wealth and influence of Court's family, and the determination of her father, who so desired this marriage that he was willing to trample anyone who got in his way.

  "Drue Caledon, do you take Courtland Summerville…"

  She swayed slightly; she felt as if she were watching a play, and that someone else was responding to the minister's words.

  That someone said, "I will," and heard the minister pronounce them husband and wife; thatsomeone turned as he presented them to the assembled guests.

  Someone else… who was she?

  To his credit, Court didn't try to kiss her; his expression was impassive, forbidding. She couldn't imagine him ever touching her, even though the marriage contract between him and her father specified that he had every right to have her and that she would submit.

  Written in stone. Her life, his to do with as he pleased…

  Dear Lord

  It was unimaginable.

  She placed her icy hand in the crook of his elbow and allowed him to lead her out of the church and into the blazing sun of a sultry Louisiana morning.

  The heat hit her like a wall, suffocating, thick, imprisoning. And they still had to get through the reception; no matter what the reality, all the amenities had to be observed. They waited on the bottom step until the youngest daughters of the surrounding parish families came to the forefront to strew petals in their path as they led the way to the rear of the church.

  Her father a
nd Courtthey did everything to a nicety… everything to circumvent gossip and make it look as if the marriage was real.

  She kept her gaze down as they paced slowly behind the children and the fluttering rose petals, with the guests following in their wake.

  …Gerard my love

  But it was a love not staunch enough or powerful enough to save her from this…

  Behind the church, the servants of Wildwood had made a veritable wedding bower in the garden under the direction of the minister's wife.

  I don't want this… I don't

  People she'd known all her life coming up to her, pleased for her, delighted for her, swelling with the summer-rich sense of the passion to come. Everyone loved a love story, but better than that, they adored an excellent dynastic match.

  And of course that was part of Court's thinking when he'd agreed to her father's proposition.

  I won't forget that. I'm a commodity, with a value set like a sack of rice or a bale of cotton. I am worth his paying off father's debt and accruing a half share in Oak Bluffs, and he gets a housekeeper, a manager, and an heir into the bargain.

  What do I get?

  Mauling by a man I despise. Marriage and statusand the loss of the true love…

  How can I ever find forgiveness? How could he use my father like that?

  Court was watching her; she felt those dark, unfathomable eyes grazing her as she moved amongst the guests accepting their good wishes.

  She girded herself. She was neither hungry nor thirsty, and Court had provided enough food to feed the whole parish for a month. But that was the way. Every expectation must be met.

  Except mine.

  She accepted a cup of cafeau lait.

  He had wanted a morning wedding, a breakfast reception. And then they would go to Wildwood where they would spend two weeks alone, with only a skeletal staff to serve them.

  He had planned for everything.

  She watched him as tightly as he watched her. There was no denying that Courtland Summerville had a commanding presence and an elegance that should have made him very pleasing to her. Certainly the unmarried ladies of the parish were gaping at him like lovesick girls, almost as if they didn't care that he had made his decision, and as if they harbored the unrealistic fantasy that things could change.

  Forbidden thoughts.

  Oh God… Gerard…

  She felt the ache spiraling through her body. Never to have Gerard, gentle, sweet, kind Gerard with his soft kisses and even softer hands. He knew how to coax, when to press, how to wait, when to beg.

  He was not a brigand, like Court. He was a gentleman, and self-made.

  And maybe that was part of what she loved about Gerard. That he had risen above his circumstances and earned his wealth, his reputation, his fame.

  He took nothing for granted, Gerard, not even her. And he had been going to marry her; everything had been planned.

  Don't even think about it.

  "Drue?" Court, standing beside her, and she hadn't even noticed.

  She summoned up a weak smile. "Court."

  "I trust everything is as you would have wished."

  "It's a lovely reception," she said, injecting some sincerity into her tone. Itwas; she didn't have to lie about that.

  "Now, why don't you pretend that everything else is what you wish as well," he said harshly. "You look like you're lost at your own wedding, and that doesn't sit well with me."

  Let the lies begin.

  She stiffened her spine. She wasn't going to allow him to ride roughshod over her, even though he scared her to death.

  "Surely you didn't expect me to pretend I'm in love with you," she hissed.

  "You will be."

  The arrogant ass. "I will do my duty, nothing more, nothing less. It's an arranged marriage, and I don't see any reason to give any more than has been contracted for." She was shaking all over now. She'd never shown him any defiance, any emotion at all to define how ill-used she felt by her father and him.

  "How interesting. The fawn has sharp little teeth."

  "I bite, too," she said viciously.

  "I hope so," he murmured.

  "Don't you"

  "No!" He grasped her arm. "Don'tyou. You're mine now, little fawn. And as you say, you'll honor every single clause of that contract."

  A feeling of dread washed over her. The hour was coming closer when they must leave, and she didn't know how to prevent it. "That's all I am to youa piece of property to furrow and plant your seed."

  "And a convenient way to extend my empiredon't forget that," he added venomously. "A half interest in Oak Bluffs your father will never have to lift a finger again. And isn't that the point of the exercise?"

  "Paying off his gambling debts was the point. And you knew exactly what you were doing when you loaned him the money and then squeezed him for payment. What else could he do?"

  "It was his proposition," Court said flatly. "He wanted it."

  "You took advantage of him."

  "We've had this conversation, Drue. I've taken advantage of nothing. I have saved your father's reputation and his life."

  "And filled your coffers, your bed, and your nursery besides."

  "I call that smart business, Mrs. Summerville. You should be proud you have such an astute husband."

  She felt the familiar fury envelop her. There was no arguing with him. He saw himself as their savior even though he was the man to whom her father was indebted. She would never understand such skewed thinking. It could only have been his plan from the first. And that meant he was a conniver and an opportunist.

  "I'll never forgive you."

  The light in his eyes flared dangerously.

  "I don't care," he said heartlessly, and, always mindful that people were watching them, he smiled at her as if she had just told him she loved him, he dropped a brutal kiss on her mouth and callously walked away.

  "My dear." Her father, with his palliating tones, his reasoned arguments. He looked as proud as if this wedding were real and Court her choice instead of his. "You are absolutely doing the right thing."

  "For whom?" she asked bitterly, but she had always known she would do anything for him. And now she had: she had signed away her life to Court so that her father's life could continue on just as it always had, with the sole stipulation that he never gamble again.

  What if he did? she wondered. What if her bluff, glad-handing father went to New Orleans and put a dollar down on the outcome of a horse race? And lost. What would happen then?

  But she knew. Court had given her father an ultimatum, all of it spelled out in the contract. He would bail him out once out of duty; twice out of honor, and the third time, he would take the remaining half of Oak Bluffs and leave Victor with nothing.

  And Victor was not a man who was used tonothing. The threat scared him. And the fact he had two chances to get it right was a speculator's dream. He had been very good, her father, in the past months since he had bartered her and half of Oak Bluffs away. He had stayed at the plantation, tending to business, salivating over the money that Court had deposited in his bank, even knowing that Court would demand an accounting of every penny spent.

  That was how partners operated, Court said. Everything in writing. None of this trusting to the honor of the other business. That was how a man got trapped in a lie.

  So how did it happen that she was ensnared in the biggest lie of all?

  The cost was too great, she thought despairingly as her father dropped a light kiss on her cheek. Her body. Her loyalty. Her life.

  She hadn't seen it in quite those terms in the light of her father's desperation. The moneylenders were after him, he'd told her. He'd lost three seasons' profits, and the money had to be paid. It was a simple business deal: an alignment of two of the parish's wealthiest, most distinguished families. No one would know the worst.

  And she Oh, here was the best part, her father said, she would be provided forhe would never have to worry about her again.

 
; She remembered how she had gone still, her body frozen at the idea of being provided for. By Courtland Summerville. Her father's creditor. Her father's friend.

  "You look beautiful," her father said, stroking her silk-shrouded arm.

  But he'd said that earlier, after he had walked her down the aisle in her drift of virginal white, just before he relinquished her to Court's care.

  "Thank you." What could you say to a father who thought that the sacrifice she had made for him was really a blessing for her?

  "Soon you'll be in your new home, all snug and safe with your new husband," her father went on. "I can't tell you how happy that makes me."

  I just bet it does.

  Her thought shocked her. She had never, ever had any negative feelings about her father's situation.

  But that was before she had actually promised to love, honor, and obey his worst enemy.

  "Are you happy, Father?" she asked quietly.

  "Aren't you?" he countered, as if she had always seen the solution the same way as he.

  She looked away from him. It was getting easier and easier to lie. Court could have taken everything in payment of the debt. But he had only demanded a partnership in Oak Bluffsandher. She was only trading one satin cage for another. Except that one was occupied by a tiger.

  "I amcontent. This is the best solution."

  "Let him take care of you, Drue. He's a good man, really."

  He's a monster. "I'm sure we'll rub along just fine."

  "There could be love, if you let it… He's a passionate man, as I'm sure you well know."

  She shuddered. Her father was no romantic; he had lived his own life to the fullest while her mother was alive. And Mother had run Oak Bluffs and kept every feeling, every resentment, to herself till the day she died.

  Passion had never entered into itexcept where her father's gambling was concerned.

  There was passion, larger and grander than any love story she could concoct. And it had seduced him, sucked him in, held him utterly in thrall. It was the love of a lifetime, and he wasn't over it yet; maybe he never would be.

  Who would willingly submit to such ungovernable feelings?