Seductive Wager

by Leigh Greenwood

  Kate turned to face him, but he had thrown off his sheet and she was brought up short by the blatant signs of his arousal. That man is worse than a mating bull, she thought angrily. All he has to do is clap his eyes on a female, and he’s ready to devour her without a by-your-leave.

  “Lunch will be served in about an hour, but I will not make up any part of the menu,” she informed him and sailed out of the room.

  Brett smiled dreamily. She was not only beautiful, but she had spirit, by God. And some day she would learn to be proud of what her beauty could do to a man, not frightened by their arousal or filled with prudish inhibitions. It would be a pleasure to teach her how to respond to a man, how to tease and tantalize, to drive him nearly insane before giving him pleasure beyond words. And he would teach her, that he swore, before either of them grew much older.

  A satisfied smile spread across Brett’s lips and he drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 12

  Brett had company for lunch. Valentine announced she was tired of dining by herself while Kate ate in Brett’s room, so a table was brought in and lunch was laid for three.

  “You don’t think I’m going to eat this slop, do you?” Brett complained, scowling at the chicken broth and barley water which constituted his lunch.

  “You’re going to eat what the doctor ordered,” Kate stated firmly, “or I’ll give you enough medicine to knock you out. Then I’ll pour it down your throat.” Valentine and Charles exchanged uneasy glances, but Brett simply looked amused and surprised them both by eating his unappetizing lunch without further argument. He then took a short nap and spent the rest of the afternoon closeted with Charles.

  “What do they talk about for so long?” Valentine demanded of Kate for the twentieth time. “Young girls telling secrets are not so bad. They have been locked away for two hours, and still they do not finish.”

  “When we left Ryehill, Brett said he had to be in France in two days. That was seven days ago. Maybe something important has happened since then.”

  “What can he know when he has lain like the dead for five days?”

  “He could have known something was going to happen without actually being there to see it.”

  “Il est possible,” Valentine admitted reluctantly, “but he should tell us, too. Here nothing ever happens. Even the tiniest bit of news would be better than to hear of Emilie Crecy’s new baby or the progress of the wheat crop.”

  “That does sound a little dreary,” Kate agreed, “but rather reassuring. Nothing ordinary has happened to me since I left Ryehill.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  “I don’t know. Probably as much mine as Brett’s, but he won’t listen to anything I suggest. He’s sure I’m utterly stupid and incapable of doing anything for myself. I feel like a prize to be handed out to some unlucky winner.”

  Valentine eyed her skeptically. “You are a great prize, you know.” She laughed at the anger in Kate’s eyes. “Mon Dieu, do not fight it so. Mind you, I was a great beauty. Still, I would give five years of my youth to look like you. Your features are perfection and still you are not insipid. There is life, color, and an energy in you that should not belong to anyone who is not French.” She read the look of disbelief in Kate’s eyes.

  “Mother of God, girl. Do men not stare at you with their mouths open? And Brett, did he not make advances?” Kate blushed. “I thought so, the old roué.”

  “Mr. Westbrook told me several times he found me attractive and that, uh … he had difficulty, uh … behaving himself.”

  “Humph! That Brett Westbrook ever behaved himself I do not believe, not since he was old enough to steal his first kiss certainement. That he would attack you is more likely. But what of other men? Do not hundreds of them sent you billetdoux?”

  “I never had any beaux.”

  “C’est impossible!”

  “Martin wouldn’t take me anywhere. Those men at his card party were the first I had seen in months. We didn’t even have a stable boy. The youngest manservant in the castle was old Ned, and he’s a grandfather at the very least.”

  “But how do you live?”

  “I found things to do.”

  “But not to have seen a young man in four years!” Valentine crossed herself. “What kind of man was votre frere to have done such a thing? There must be demons in his head.”

  “Martin hated me, and I grew to dislike him nearly as much. I kept to my room when he was home.”

  “Blessed Virgin, how it is possible to stay in one room and not lose the mind? Pauvre enfant. You have been cruelly used.”

  “I didn’t like it much, but Martin was gone most of the time. The only person who bothered me then was the housekeeper.”

  “The housekeeper?”

  “Martin’s mistress. If he cared for anyone, it would have been Isabella.”

  “Il est un bête!” Valentine declared with feeling. “It must have been terrible.”

  “It was lonely. I couldn’t even go to church. I read a lot until Martin sold the books.”

  “Quelle horreurs!” Valentine gasped. “Do the English do this often?”

  “I don’t think so,” Kate replied with a laugh. “There were never very many guests when I lived with my aunt, but she seemed to take pleasure in the visit and the visitors. I know I did. Even though most of them were older, I was always anxious to meet anyone new. Do you realize I’ve seen almost as many new faces in this last week as I’ve seen in my whole life?”

  “Incroyable! I am surprised I do not cry just thinking about it.”

  “Please don’t,” Kate begged. “I seem to be crying all the time, and if Brett finds out I’ve been making you cry as well, he’s likely to wring my neck. I don’t want to try his patience too far. He might leave me here, and I haven’t a farthing to pay my passage back to England.”

  Valentine didn’t want to add to Kate’s discomfort, but she wanted to know more about her relationship with Brett. She was sure it was more than just a cousin being escorted to Paris. She doubted they were related at all. “Brett will not leave you here. He is taking you to Paris and the vieille tante, n’est-ce pas?”

  Kate regretted her thoughtless words, especially since she wasn’t prepared to tell anyone the whole truth. She had intended to ask Valentine to help her escape, but she still hadn’t come up with a plan and she was unwilling to disclose her awkward situation before she had worked out exactly what she meant to do.

  “Don’t listen to me,” Kate said, producing a facile laugh. “I’m so tired I’m saying foolish things. I don’t know what changes this accident will make in Brett’s plans, but I’m certain he will take me to Paris.”

  Before Valentine could pursue the subject further, Charles entered the parlor carrying several thick letters and wearing a heavy frown.

  “Mr. Westbrook wants these posted right away,” he said.

  That broke up the conversation. Valentine went away to see about dinner, and Kate went to see how Brett had survived the session. She found him looking very tired and enduring a stern lecture from Dr. Burton with ill grace.

  “Tried to do too much, didn’t you?” the doctor chided. “First time you open your eyes and you spend the whole day writing letters and arguing about knotty problems. Now you’re weak as a babe and feverish besides. I never knew a young buck who had sense enough to lie back and let himself get well. You’re always trying to rush things.” He pulled the new dressings tight enough to make Brett wince. “You make sure he takes his medicine,” he said to Kate. “At least he’ll sleep through the night.”

  “I’d prefer not to be drugged,” Brett said, trying to keep a rein on his temper.

  “When I want your opinion, young man, I’ll find a subject on which you’re an expert. Medicine’s my business, and I’m damned good at it. You’ll swallow your usual dose, or I’ll pour it down your throat.”

  “That’s the second time today someone has threatened to use force on me,” Brett said, grinding his teeth in
fury. “No one has succeeded yet.”

  “But I have you at a disadvantage, don’t I?” countered the doctor, undeterred by Brett’s rudeness. “In a few days it’ll be a different tale, but right now your strength would give out after a short struggle, so you might as well try and mend your temper. You won’t get anywhere with me by being churlish, and I know Miss Vareyan’s not afraid of you.”

  Kate’s weak smile did nothing to lighten Brett’s mood. He closed his mouth tightly and would say no more. The doctor filled the void with inconsequential chatter, and admonished Brett to “be less irascible. Tension retards the healing process.”

  Left alone, Kate and Brett glared at each other like two cats. What did she mean by staring at him as though he were a child to be reproved for bad behavior. He was unaccustomed to females who didn’t defer to his wishes, and he was tired of putting up with this bumptious, mercurial girl. She’d been trouble from the first time he set eyes on her.

  The recollection of that evening launched a different train of thought in his mind, and in seconds the heat of his anger had turned to a very different kind of warmth. He remembered her in the candlelight, skin like ivory satin and hair of corn-silk gold, a generous mouth demanding to be crushed in a torrid kiss. His eyes traveled down the white column of her, throat to the youthful thrust of her full breasts and he felt the heat begin to course through his veins.

  He thought of a certain countess whose voluptuous body had provided him with many a pleasure-filled evening and wondered how he could ever have been attracted to such overripe beauty. He compared her lush charms to the slender, clean lines of Kate’s body and discovered it was like comparing a broodmare to a racing filly. There was lithe grace in Kate’s movements, her flesh was firm and cleanly molded to her bones and she was filled with all the fire and determination of a young and vibrant animal lusting for life, willing to take it by the throat, willing to risk all to gain everything. That was his own attitude toward life, and to see it in a young and beautiful woman filled him with a passionate need to possess her, to claim her body and soul as his own.

  Kate broke in on his pleasurable meanderings as though she had been reading his mind.

  “Before your burgeoning lusts put you beyond the reach of rational conversation, I’d like to talk to you about my future.” She fixed him with a baleful eye. “My honorable future!”

  “Can’t that wait a while?” Brett asked, reluctantly tearing his eyes from their contemplation of her body. “No one in England knows where you are, and no one here knows who you are.”

  “No, it can’t wait. My prospects may already be ruined, but if there is something left to salvage, it will have to be done before anyone learns that it was I, and not some nameless trollop, who ran off to France with you.” She stifled a sob. “Or would you rather I ask Valentine to recommend me for a place in one of those houses I hear so much about? Surely I’m qualified now.”

  Brett was nearly exhausted, his temper had been sorely tried, and he was having to exert considerable effort to keep it under control. Unfortunately, he was not as mindful of what he said, and he uttered the first thought that came to his mind. “Oh for God’s sake, don’t start that again. I never heard anyone get so wrought up over a maidenhead.”

  Kate sucked in her breath in a harsh rasp. “You may have taken any number of maidenheads in your depraved career, but I had only one to lose,” she exclaimed, her voice rising with each word. “Since you forced me to sacrifice it, it seems a small price to ask you to help me save my reputation. I imagine Valentine would have made you pay dearly if you had come to her. Or have you lost all interest in me now that I’ve been deflowered?”

  Brett could have bitten his tongue, but he knew there was no use trying to explain to Kate just now. In her present mood, she was likely to take any apology as further proof of his depravity. Still, even though his mind was considerably irritated by Kate’s prickly temper and his limbs ached from being overtired, his body would not allow him to forget its consuming desire for her.

  “You’ve got to be the most vexing female I’ve ever met, but all I have to do is look at you and it doesn’t matter. Do you have any idea how maddening it is to have you so close and be unable to do more than turn my head in your direction? I would give a year’s income to stop that scolding mouth with kisses, crush you in my arms, and make love to you all night long.”

  Kate flushed scarlet in spite of herself. “Can’t you ever think of anything besides your lusts? Has any woman ever been more to you than a passionate kiss and a tumble in the bed?”

  “Not yet,” he replied, and smiled so dazzlingly she thought her knees would give way.

  Kate was speechless. How could he think she wanted nothing more out of life than to be mauled by someone like himself? It was beyond her comprehension. It ought to be beyond anybody’s comprehension.

  “I want more than that,” she finally said. “I don’t know how and I don’t know where, but I’m going to get it. And you are going to help me.” She turned on her heel and flung out of the room, slamming the door so hard Nancy heard it in the kitchen.

  Brett swore at the closed door. What did she mean by saying he was going to help her? He wasn’t about to be ruled by any woman, particularly not a girl who flounced out of rooms like a hoyden and was continually setting her mind in opposition to his. She was a tasty morsel, but there were other tidbits just as tempting to be had for less trouble.

  But as the heat of his displeasure evaporated, he saw again that young and unspoiled body, her perfect face and figure, and the lithe, graceful movement that promised delights beyond those he had experienced that first night. The more he thought about her, the more he realized he wanted to keep her with him. He hesitated when he thought of the complications that would cause, but he was even more unwilling to contemplate being without her.

  He might as well use the time while he was recovering and waiting for answers to his letters to get on better terms with her. He always preferred willing partners. The pleasure was much more intense when it was shared. He remembered her responses that night and his senses warmed again. Her body, willing even if her mind still held back, had awakened at his touch and made a stormy effort to match his own passion. He knew she was as yet unschooled in the pleasures of love, but when she had learned to revel in the mysteries and glory in the exultation of her senses, she would be a partner worthy of his skill. Yes, he thought, as he drifted off to sleep again, I might as well try to make her like me more. While I’m tied to this bed, there’s not much more I can do.

  All that evening and most of the next day Kate treated him with cool formality, but it was impossible for any woman to resist Brett when he exerted himself to be charming, and her feelings toward him started to soften before midafternoon. Brett didn’t make the mistake of changing his attitude toward her; that would only have made her suspicious and even more distrustful, but he was careful not to make any remarks which might make her angry. He had reluctantly come to the conclusion that even though she had led a cloistered life, she had developed some pretty novel ideas about her own abilities and worth. The only thing she hadn’t yet realized was the power of her beauty. Once she knew the full extent of that, Brett reflected grimly, he wouldn’t be able to keep her to himself any longer; he determined right then he would not go to Paris.

  Kate didn’t unbend completely toward him or pretend she wasn’t still extremely angry, but she did start to talk to him again. Once she tried to bring up the subject of her future, but he put her off.

  “I’m waiting for answers to my letters. Once I have them, I’ll be happy to help you go anywhere you want.” Since he didn’t bother to explain what kind of letters he had written and to whom they were addressed, she knew no more than before. She decided to forgo mentioning it again in the hopes of getting something definite out of him the next day, but she was doomed to disappointment. Brett spent most of the next day teaching her how to handle a pistol and a dagger.

  “If you’re
going to go about shooting highwaymen, you should learn how to use a pistol correctly.” Kate wasn’t afraid of an unloaded pistol and she quickly mastered its handling. “I’ll give you some ammunition as soon as we can get outside,” Brett promised, “and then we’ll see what you can do.”

  Kate was pleased with her progress, but was relieved to change to a dagger when all the possibilities of an unloaded pistol had been exhausted. It also postponed until another day the question of what Valentine and the villagers would say about a pistol being fired virtually at their back doors.

  After spending the next morning in further practice with the pistol and dagger, Brett waited until after lunch to introduce Kate to the sword. She didn’t care for it in the least, but Brett kept her at it because it prevented her from trying to reopen the discussion about her departure and also gave him a chance to tease her into a more amiable attitude toward him.

  “Once you become more adept, you can carry a pistol in your muff and a dagger in your garter,” Brett laughingly suggested.

  “I’d prefer not to go about armed to the teeth,” she replied, but Brett smiled at her in a way that brought the blood to her cheeks. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll have to carry them to use on you,” she threatened.

  “The sword also?”

  “I’m not good enough with that, but I could always plunge it into your heart while you slept,” she added reflectively.

  “You’re a bloodthirsty wench. Didn’t your mother tell you that proper girls don’t think of such things?”

  Kate’s smile vanished. “What my mother taught me would probably shock you. It’s something I’d rather forget.”

  Brett did his best to get her to explain that remark, but she refused to talk about her mother at all. Instead, she asked him to show her a particular pass with the sword again.

  “Until I can get up from this bed, I’m going to have to enlist Charles’s help. It’s impossible to teach swordplay lying down, even if I do have half the pillows in the inn behind my back.”