Seductive Wager

by Leigh Greenwood

  He shook off his reverie and began to undress Kate. He laughed, even though he didn’t feel much like it. He had undressed many women in his time, but never one who lay in his arms like a deadweight. The others had been warm and coy, struggling just enough to keep his interest alive, but somehow managing to allow him to remove their clothes with a minimum of fuss. Kate did none of this. By the time he finally managed to get the gown over her head, he was so exasperated he threw it on the floor. She could do something about it tomorrow.

  Brett carefully removed her chemise, the final bar to her privacy, and the youthful perfection of her body was laid bare to his heated gaze. He paused in wonder. He had never seen anything quite so lovely, so nearly perfect. He had intended to make sure she was comfortable and then pull the sheet over her, but he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and no thought of a sheet intruded to break the trance. Like the ancient mariners when they heard the song of the Sirens, he was helplessly in her thrall. He sank down beside her, touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers, traced the line of her jaw, caressed her shoulder, explored the ruby-capped mounds of her breasts. Her skin was invitingly soft, and his fingers continued their voyage down the tapering waist to the long, slim thigh; his eyes followed to the small shapely ankles and dainty feet. He snatched his hand back as if he had touched a red-hot iron, his senses reeling. He knew if he didn’t get out of the room at once his passions would overpower him, and he would take her despite his promises to Valentine and himself.

  He lifted her head and spread her long silken tresses on the pillow. Then, before he could give in to his throbbing need, he threw a sheet and two quilts over her and quickly left the room. He closed the door behind him and slumped against the wall like a winded fighter. Finally aware that his wound was causing him considerable pain, he opened his eyes and massaged the shoulder roughly.

  “I think maybe a little pain is not a bad thing,” Valentine stated unsympathetically. “It will give you something else to think about.” She was standing in the doorway of his room looking at him with a measuring glance he found unfamiliar, uncomfortable, and unpleasant.

  “You can relax your guard, you old alley cat,” Brett snapped. “As you can see, I’m fully dressed and totally unsatisfied. I didn’t know what to do about her night clothes so I put her to bed naked. I’ll check on her later to see that she’s still covered. I don’t want her to catch cold.” That sounded suspect, even to his ears.

  Valentine continued to watch him with a calculating glance, but she evidently decided he meant what he said because she backed into his room, allowing him to enter.

  “If you had stayed much longer, you might not have found it possible to leave,” she said flatly. “I will stay in case you need assistance.” Brett wasn’t about to discuss his painfully throttled desire with Valentine or anyone else, so he changed the subject.

  “Can you have somebody get Kate’s things ready? We have to leave at daybreak. I’d like to leave some trunks here, too. Since I’m not going to Paris, I won’t need so many clothes.” He flashed the captivating smile that had melted so many female hearts. “There’s no need for the wolf to dress in sheep’s clothing in the desert. My only quarry is a warlike old man who won’t care what I look like.”

  “Leave what you like. Kate, too, though I doubt she has anything to leave, poor girl. Now she is Madame Westbrook, you must buy her new things. She has nothing that is not un disgrâce.”

  “I’ll see she’s provided for,” Brett promised stiffly.

  “You go to bed. Valentine will check Kate,” she said with a goading look as she moved to the door. “Tomorrow will be very busy, and I do not want you to have the bad dreams.” She ducked the pillow he threw at her and skipped out the door.

  Brett lay back on his bed, put his hands behind his head, and tried to relax. It was probably better he didn’t see Kate again tonight. He felt calmer now, but the sight of her was certain to get him stirred up again. Just knowing she was naked under those covers was enough to set the fire raging in his veins again.

  Forget tonight, he told himself. It’ll only make you more miserable. Tomorrow you’ll be at sea with all the time in the world. Maybe we can start over.

  Somewhere in the distance Kate could hear a pounding like a pile-driver sinking timbers into the bowels of the earth. The concussions of sound came in a persistent rhythm, and the powerful, ringing blows hurt her head. She covered her ears and tried to run away, but her body was too heavy for her muscles to move. Her struggles only increased the ringing in her head, and she was forced to lie still to lessen the pain.

  Gradually she became aware of a rocking motion, a slight but regular undulation that made her stomach feel uneasy. She tried to think why she should be rocking, but her mind was clogged with an enveloping mist. The more she tried to concentrate, the more everything moved beyond her grasp. And that awful pounding! Would it ever stop?

  She opened her eyes, but the light coming from a small, round window stung her eyes like thousands of tiny sharp needles. That confused her even more. Why were the windows round? Why should her eyes hurt so? The spinning pinwheels and flashing lights gradually faded, and the objects around her came into a misty focus. She turned her head to one side, but everything more than a few feet away was lost in the haze. Kate struggled to sit up on one elbow and force her mind to concentrate in spite of the pain. She had to know where she was. Slowly the room came into focus, and a feeling of panic gripped her. She didn’t recognize anything. Where was she? What was happening? What had happened to her?

  She sat up abruptly and looked around for something familiar and reassuring, but a pain unlike anything she’d ever experienced seemed to split her head right down the middle and render her blind even though her eyes were still wide open. She fell back on her bed in agony, and after an exhausting struggle to keep from crying aloud in her misery, the throbbing subsided enough for her to open her eyes again.

  The sheet had fallen off, and she realized with a jolt that she was completely naked. She yanked up the bedclothes to cover her bare breasts, shock and outrage momentarily overshadowing the pain in her head. She looked around once more and tried to remember where she was supposed to be. Why did this room seem alien and yet vaguely familiar? Surely she had never been here before. Bits of knowledge kept prodding her brain, trying to make themselves known, but the pounding in her head was driving away all memory. If it would just stop hurting for even a little while, maybe she could think. She lay back, closed her eyes, and tried to relax. Maybe, if she were absolutely still, the aching would lessen enough for her to remember how she got here.

  After a while the pain did ease, and with its alleviation came a slow recollection of the events of the previous evening. Not everything at once, but enough to make her want to crawl into a corner and die.

  The realization that she had married Brett came crashing in on her with awful force. In spite of all she had done, she had been forced to marry him against her will. This was undoubtedly their room on the ship that was taking him to Africa. That would explain the rocking motion and why she saw a man’s coat over the chair. She felt some relief. At least she knew what was happening, but as the fact of her nakedness continued to burn its way into her consciousness, she lost any sense of relief and struggled to control her mounting anxiety. She remembered very little from last evening. Her last clear recollection was of drinking Brett’s brandy, but she seemed to recall something about his forcing his way into her room.

  She sat up and pounded her temples to jog her memory, but all she got was a terrible pain that crashed through her head and rendered her brain useless. She sank back on the pillows, and after a few minutes the pain subsided. She remembered screaming through a door that she would shoot him if he entered her room. Oh my God, she had opened the door and put the gun to his head! She could hear the shot in her mind, but no matter how much she cudgeled her brain, she couldn’t remember what happened.

  She couldn’t face the thought of h
im being shot a second time by a member of the Vareyan family! Then she remembered his coat, it must be his coat, and some of her fears eased. They wouldn’t be on the ship together if she had shot him, even if she had only wounded him.

  Her thoughts kept returning to her nakedness. She didn’t remember being put to bed or anything else until a few minutes ago. What had happened? Had he spent the night in her room? In her bed? She blushed. There was only one bed in her room at the inn and only one bed in this cabin. She didn’t feel any different, but she felt sure something had happened. She couldn’t imagine Brett making the least effort to control himself. Now that she was his wife there wasn’t any reason to do so. She heard footsteps coming down the passageway outside the cabin door and quickly pulled the covers tightly over her rigid body.

  “I’m glad to see you’re awake.” Brett greeted her cheerfully as he came in bearing a tray loaded with dishes. “I bet you have a king-size hangover.” A wince of pain crossed Kate’s face and Brett laughed. “I thought so. I can’t imagine why a girl with no drinking experience would start with a whole bottle of brandy. You’re lucky you can still see.”

  Kate relaxed slightly. “I’ve already been sufficiently punished for my folly. You needn’t add your mite.” She was not cheerful.

  “I guess that was a little unfair,” he said with a smile that Kate decided too closely resembled a smirk and set the tray down on the table beside her bed. “I thought you might need some breakfast. After last night, I was sure you would have a bear of a head.” He put his hand under her chin and raised her face so he could look into her bloodshot eyes. “Poor girl, you really have shot the cat. I can see you’re not used to spirits. I bet you’ve never had anything stronger than wine.” Kate gave her head a tiny shake, but even that sent shock waves bouncing around the inside of her skull.

  “Brandy is a hard way to begin,” Brett said, not missing the grimace of pain. “Nothing is going to help much right now, but we’ve got to make a beginning somewhere, and food is a start.”

  Kate regarded the loaded tray with a skeptical eye. She didn’t feel hungry, but she didn’t think food could make her feel any worse. Brett brought a chair up next to the bed and sat down.

  “I hope the maids got all your clothes packed before we left.” There was a provocative smile in his eyes. “I would have asked Valentine to check, but I’m almost as familiar with a lady’s wardrobe as she is.” Kate blushed, and her grip on the bedclothes tightened. “You can let go of those sheets,” he added with less warmth. “Not even I would attempt to make love to you while you’re suffering from a hangover. Besides, there’s plenty of time for that later.”

  Her stomach flipped over like a landed salmon, and her grasp on the covers tightened once more. She was thankful for his point of view but somehow didn’t feel it stemmed from any consideration for her.

  “The weather is perfect today,” he said, changing the subject. “You should come up and have a look. I’ve never seen a more glorious day or a more magnificent view of the ocean.

  Kate resisted the impulse to tell him that any view of the sea not seen from land would be unwelcome. She still remembered the rigors of her channel crossing, and the thought of spending several weeks at sea held no attraction for her. But she pushed those concerns aside. She needed all her energies to cope with her throbbing head and to find out what had happened last night. She had to know, even though it probably didn’t matter at this point.

  “Thank you,” she said, trying not to wince from the pain in her head, “but I couldn’t possibly put anything in my mouth. My head feels like it’s filled with huge spikes all pushing out against my skull. Every time I open my eyes I can hardly see for the shooting pains. Even that pair of pants over there is nearly lost in the blur.”

  Brett didn’t misunderstand. He had planned to tease her a while, to let her think the worst, but her terrible misery aroused his sympathy. “Don’t worry,” he reassured her, “the pants belong to me, as do the coat, shoes, and everything else you see lying about. I’m not a tidy person, and I’m worse at sea. Usually Charles sees that I don’t disgrace him, but my marriage has put the household arrangements momentarily out of order, and there’s nobody to dean up behind me. Maybe you could take that on as one of your wifely duties. It would give you something to do.”

  Kate was suffering too acutely to reply, but she longed to hit him with something big and lethal. Why did she ever doubt he had taken advantage of her drunken stupor? It was just the kind of thing he would do. Look at him smiling at her, just like he loved her and was happy to have her for his wife. Cad! Bounder! She would love to scratch the smile off his face. That would teach him to look so unbearably handsome. Oh Lord, she sighed, it isn’t fair. How could anyone so selfish look so devastatingly handsome? He was the answer to a woman’s dream. But not hers. Her dream, yes, but not her answer.

  “I know you’re wondering what happened last night,” Brett said abruptly. “You needn’t pretend otherwise. I can see it written all over your face.” Kate was sure even her toes blushed. “I didn’t force myself on you if that’s what you’re worried about. I didn’t even touch you. Fortunately for me, you passed out just as you pointed that pistol at my head. All you managed to shoot was Valentine’s wallpaper. I’m sure the Foreign Office is glad they won’t have to be told I’ve been shot a second time. That kind of thing is hard on Lord Thunderburke’s indigestion.”

  “All the same, I was disappointed in your marksmanship. I’d hoped you could hit something a little more challenging than a wall. I think you ought to apologize to Valentine,” he went on as Kate grew more and more embarrassed. “You ruined one of her favorite patterns.” He finally took pity on Kate’s chagrin. “I don’t think she minded, though. She was just glad to be able to put you to bed.”

  “But last night, here …” Kate managed to say before her voice trailed off.

  “You slept in the inn, not here. I never touched you.” Kate unconsciously relaxed her hold on the bedclothes. “I would have had to do so over the combined resistance of half the people in the inn. You should be pleased to know Valentine guarded you as jealously as she would her own daughter. She hovered around like a pheasant hen with only one chick. I wouldn’t be surprised to find she slept in the chair in your room, just in case I walked in my sleep. And I suspect Charles slept with his door open.”

  Kate couldn’t think of anything to say, but her eyes were misty. For the moment she didn’t even feel the throbbing in her head. The worst of her fears had been removed, and relief flooded over her like waves of the incoming tide.

  “I brought you on board before the village woke up. After all the trouble I had getting you undressed, I couldn’t see putting your clothes back on and then having to put you to bed all over again, so I wrapped you up in the sheets and carried you over my shoulder.” He gave a reckless laugh. “I hope no one saw you trailing bedsheets through the streets. The explanation would be beyond me, and poor Valentine’s reputation would never recover.

  “Now that ought to relieve your mind enough for you to eat … but drink this first.” He handed her a glass with a dubious-looking liquid in it. “It’s very nasty and you’ll hate it, but it’ll make you feel better.” He held her chin and poured the liquid down her throat before she could protest. She choked and swallowed and choked again, but she got most of it down.

  “I had to do that,” he apologized. “If you had tasted it first, you would never have been able to swallow it.” He poured out some coffee. “I know you’d prefer tea, but it wouldn’t do you as much good. You can have some at lunch if you still want it. Eat up, and don’t tell me you couldn’t possibly swallow a bite,” he said, seeing her prepare to make that very protest. “I’m an expert on getting over a hangover, and what I don’t know, Charles does. After breakfast you can get dressed and we’ll figure out what to do with the rest of the day. Now finish up every bite. If you offend the chef, there may not be any lunch or dinner for any of us.”

 
“That’s blackmail,” Kate managed to say with a trace of a smile.

  “Maybe, but it got a more favorable reaction than I did,” he said unhappily, and got up. “I’m going to leave you alone now, but I’ll be back before long. Charles is across the hall and the captain is in the next cabin, so there’ll be someone to hear you if you should need anything before then.” He looked at her, and a softer light came into his eyes. “I’m sorry I struck you. I tried to stop myself, but I couldn’t.”

  “It wasn’t all your fault,” Kate said, somehow feeling relieved. “I said some rather awful things.”

  “We both made mistakes. Suppose we start over again. Do you think we can?” There was a tenor of anxiety in his voice that Kate couldn’t miss. Could Valentine be right? Was it possible that he really did like her after all?

  “We can try.”

  “Good. Now you just relax and don’t worry about anything. Everything is going to be all right.” He patted her hand reassuringly then left.

  Kate collapsed on her pillows. She hardly knew what to make of Brett’s apology. It must have been the first time in his life he’d apologized for anything, but she was certain he was sincere. In fact, he seemed altogether different this morning, and she was sure the brandy had nothing to do with this impression. There was a different feeling about the things he said and did. She couldn’t forgive him for hitting her, but she had had no right to cast slurs on his family name. No man could be expected to tolerate that. Oh well, he had apologized, so maybe she should call it even and try to forget everything.

  Though her mind was relieved on another score as well, she was greatly puzzled by Brett’s restraint. Why hadn’t he made love to her? She was mystified as to why he was so cheerful about everything. He didn’t even seem to mind that Charles and Valentine seemed prepared to defend her. Kate wasn’t sure she believed his reaction: he could just be trying to get her off her guard.