by Glenda Diana
“I came to demand that you do your duty,” Thorton replied.
“And what, Madame, is my duty?”
“To bed me, of course.”
Blake dropped his glass; it hit the floor with a soft thud. Blood rushed through his body, making his ears roar and his chest ache. Hades could not come close to what Blake felt burning inside him. This was his eternal damnation.
The silence made Thorton nervous. This could be more difficult than she had anticipated. She had planned everything so carefully, from the white nightgown, to having his brandy brought to his room. She had memorized every word she would say. Unfortunately, she should have written down Blake's lines and given them to him.
Thorton mentally shook her head. Apparently this was going to be different from the production she had staged in her mind. Blake was staring at her as if he thought she had lost her mind. Well, that was fine. She probably had. After everything he had done to her in the past two weeks, she was probably ready for a private room in Bedlam. But she was tired of waiting for him to come to her ... so tonight she changed her tactics.
“I distinctly remember the duties you demanded of me. To give you children, stay out of your way, and offer no trouble. I've done my best on two of them, but I don't believe I can do the other without your assistance.” She felt herself blush, but didn't care.
Blake groaned. He was only human. His mind told him he had every right to bed his wife. Besides, she was asking him. No. It was not a simple request; it sounded more like a demand. He would have laughed at the whole ridiculous idea if he didn't feel such a need to have her.
Thorton watched as he closed his eyes and shook his head. She had defeated the great wall of self-preservation. It was more than just the conquest of winning; it was one lonely link over the abyss of infinite that separated them. “Blake?”
The tremor of her voice vibrated through him. Shakily, he got to his feet, his black eyes boring into hers as he held out his hand. Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his. He pulled her up, then slowly guided her toward his bed.
He shivered when she unfastened his trousers. Kneeling, she tugged the material down his muscular legs. Her gaze glided over him, making his skin turn hot wherever it touched.
Standing, she let her wrapper fall to the floor. Her hands skimmed up to his shoulders. She moaned at the feel of his heated skin against her cool body. Lord, how handsome he was. And he was hers, declared by his own words, until death do them part. He had sealed his fate.
“Make love to me,” she whispered.
Before he could answer, she again knelt before him. How could he refuse? He almost pulled her back to her feet, but the sight of her fiery red hair so close to his pulsating manhood stopped him. His head fell back; his eyes closed. Yes, she was his Hell. He could feel her hot flames licking at him, scorching him, branding him, pushing him closer to the brink of insanity. She would be the death of him, his mind whispered. Yes, his heart and soul cried out in response, but if so, what a delicious way to go. Finally, he could not endure her torture any longer, and lifted her.
Thorton nearly swooned as his mouth claimed hers in a kiss so hot, so wet, so soul-rendering, she was powerless to do nothing more than to surrender completely.
Blake exulted in the simple joy of being able to touch her satiny skin, then, the merging of their bodies, the consuming hunger he had craved and starved for. All the events began melting together in his mind. The sun's hot rays beating down on his sweat-drenched body as he climbed ever higher the icy pinnacle of his soul, turning it to molten lava. Finally he reached the peak of consummation, only to fall as his body exploded into a thousand tiny shards.
Thorton clung to him, riding out the furious storm that raged between them. Her entity spiraled to the Heavens, the bright stars burst around her, making her gasp and shiver, then blackness rose up to claim her.
Blake buried his face into her fragrant hair and breathed deeply. His male self-satisfaction reared its conceited head at the knowledge that he had caused this woman to faint.
How many nights had he dreamt of this? To hold her, to touch her, to bury himself so deep inside her he would brand her soul for eternity. How many times had he dreamt of being able to breathe in the scent of her sweet essence next to him? Every night, his heart whispered.
She was his Hell, but he welcomed her to claim his soul. Welcomed the presence of the only being who could destroy him for all time. Hell or not, he wanted her.
Thorton surfaced from her black world to the feeling of Blake's chest hairs tickling her nose. Happiness surrounded her as she lay in his embrace. As surely as the sun would rise in the morning, she knew this peace they had found would fade like the blackness of night.
She wasn't being foolish or selfish to wish this moment could last forever, never to allow his cold thoughts entrance, or to be used as a barrier between them again. All he had to do was say the words to bring their lives together as one. But Blake was too stubborn. He would always think the worst of her, no matter how many times she proved him wrong.
Thorton closed her eyes, holding tightly to him, afraid when the sun arose it would bring with it the cold, bitter emptiness she so hated.
Chapter Fifteen
When Thorton awoke, she stretched, loving the wonderful feeling that swirled and rotated about in the pit of her stomach. The last thing she recalled was Blake waking her sometime during the night and making love to her again before carrying her to her own bed.
She was not ridiculous enough to think last night had changed Blake's attitude. But she was closer to her goal. She gave a silent laugh and hugged herself before pulling the cord to summon her maid.
As soon as the maid entered, Thorton knew something was wrong. The woman's eyes were swollen. She looked ready to faint.
Thorton pulled Sarah to the nearest chair. “What's wrong?”
“What will I do?” Sarah sniffed. “The Baron said you would be returning to your country estate. I don't think I can stand it,” she finished in a wail.
Thorton tried not to let the woman see her shock at the news. “Now, now, Sarah, don't cry,” she murmured, while her heart cried in pain. Blake was sending her away. “You have nothing to fear. I'll have Griggs give you a fine reference...”
“That's not it, Milady. The whole household is returning to the country.”
Thorton couldn't stop her sigh of relief. She took a deep breath and waited for her heart to slow. Then she noticed the huge tears running down Sarah's round cheeks. The woman was acting like she was losing...
“You're in love,” she whispered. A quick nod from the maid brought a smile to Thorton's face. Sarah looked as miserable as Thorton did most of the time. “Who with?”
“Griggs.”
It was Thorton's turn to sit. Sarah had to be in her mid-twenties; Griggs had to be at least fifty. He looked like an aged hawk, where Sarah looked like a buxom angel.
“Does he know how you feel?”
“He thinks I'm too young. I told him I was old enough to know what it was I felt.”
“Has he given you a reason to ... Well, you know what I'm asking. Have the two of you...?”
Sarah blushed becomingly and lowered her eyes. “He's always been a gentleman. But when he thinks no one is paying any mind, he looks at me like a man looks at a woman.”
“Is that all?”
“He kissed me a couple of times. But I told him straight out, I wasn't like the other maids. I was raised gently by my father, God rest his soul. At one time Father had been a wealthy merchant until he lost his fortune in the gaming hells. I told Griggs that, if he wanted me, he was going to say the vows in front of a priest.” Sarah's tears continued to fall.
“Are you sure you love him?”
“Yes, Milady.”
“Then I suppose there's nothing left to do but take you with us.”
* * * *
Blake had left early, to where Thorton did not know. Apparently neither did Griggs. Roger and Lucas had gon
e to look at some prime horseflesh, while the staff busied itself packing for the return to Stonecrest. That left Thorton with nothing to do but wander about the house.
She'd just entered the drawing room when Griggs announced Alan Garrick. She asked Griggs to bring them tea.
“I was right,” Alan announced.
Thorton waved a hand toward the chair cross from her. “What exactly were you right about?”
Alan sat in the chair and smiled roguishly. “You. I had to see if you looked as lovely during the day as you do at night.”
Thorton laughed softly, then again wondered where Blake was. Mr. Garrick seemed to be rather nice, but she didn't appreciate having to entertain him without Blake's presence. Thorton gave a mental sigh when Griggs reappeared with tea. “Mr. Garrick, I predict the ladies of the ton will not stand a chance against your charm.”
Alan took the cup of tea she offered. “Madame, you wound me. You make it sound as though I'm some wastrel or knave.” He laughed.
“You said that, not me.” Thorton grinned over her cup. Her eyes briefly met those of Griggs stationed near the door, watching Alan like a hawk.
“You were betrothed to Bradley for fifteen years? You were but a babe.”
“I was five and Blake was fifteen.”
“So, what did you think when you first saw ... Stonecrest?”
Thorton slightly tipped her head at his masked question. Her anger boiled for a brief second. But he deserved an honest answer, seeing as how he was brave enough to ask. “It was just as I knew it would be.” Thorton leaned forward, her eyes boring into Alan's. “What is it you really want to know? A confession? Here's what I first thought of Stonecrest ... Large and forbearing, indestructible and flawless, unwelcoming and arrogant, and so very, very cold ... waiting for the warmth so long denied. I fell in love.”
“Most women marry for money, position, power. You were betrothed at five and are fortunate enough to love where you had no choice but to go.”
“That's where you're mistaken. You're categorizing me with the ladies in Town. I was raised in the country, I have different values. Position, money, and power mean nothing to me. All these things might make life easier, but they cannot fill your heart. At one time each of those traits will desert the holder of them, leaving him or her high and dry. I want the things that will make me happy, make me whole, and be with me until the end.”
“You're passionate in your wants.”
“What I am is long-winded.” Thorton laughed. “Forgive me for rambling my philosophy. It often chases people away. Even my husband has to have some time alone to give his ears a rest.”
“Speaking of Blake, I saw him riding through the park earlier,” Alan announced as he took a drink of tea.
Thorton studied the man. His green eyes had darkened, his smile seemed taut, and she didn't much care for the way he suddenly tossed out that last bit of information. She felt like she was being baited for a finely set trap. Giving herself a mental shake, she scolded herself for being silly. “And was Blake to meet you here?”
Alan smiled. “We didn't get a chance to talk. He was conversing with the beautiful Penelope Ashbrook. If I'm not mistaken, she used to be his mistress.”
Thorton grasped the arms of the chair to steady her suddenly tilting world. The trap had been sprung. She felt the hurt, but wasn't sure which hurt was greater. That Blake could be reestablishing his association with his ex-mistress, or that Mr. Garrick had told her out of spite, to purposely cause her pain?
“Perhaps, it would be best if you left, Mr. Garrick.”
Griggs rushed across the room, his accusing gray eyes on Garrick.
“Good God,” Alan said, coming to his feet. “I didn't mean to upset you. Blake and Penelope might have been greeting each other in passing. I didn't stick around.”
“Instead you dashed here,” Griggs snapped. He patted Thorton's hand.
Alan lifted his chin. “I wanted to view the Lady without Blake hanging over her shoulder.”
“I wish I had a pistol, Milord. I'd shoot you before Blake could hear of your conduct. You'll be lucky if he doesn't call you out.”
Alan look chagrined, as if he felt like an idiot for hurting Thorton. “Please, forgive me,” he said with what sounded like true regret.
“She won't,” Griggs answered.
Alan scowled. “Why don't you get her a glass of cool water?”
“And leave you two alone? Not likely,” Griggs sniffed, raising his hawkish nose.
Thorton pulled her mind from the black thoughts threatening to suffocate her. She grasped Griggs’ thin hand. “I could use a glass of water. In fact, I believe a spot of Blake's brandy would make me so much better.”
“See what you've done?” Griggs muttered as he passed Alan. “You've caused a tender lady to turn to the bottle. You, sir, will have many sins to answer for one day. Wait until the Baron...” Griggs voice dwindled as he left the room.
Alan knelt at Thorton's side. He took one of her cold hands in his. “In my impulsive need to lash out at Blake, I hurt you, and for that I am sorry. I never meant to cause you pain.”
“Why would you want to lash out at Blake?” she asked, searching his face. A blush came to his lean cheeks, which confused her more. He was acting like a man who ... No. Her presumption had to be incorrect.
“Jealousy can make a person do things they normally would not do.”
“Why would you be jealous of Blake?”
“He has you. I'm filled with jealousy, envy, and a strong dislike for your husband. He's had the good fortune to have found the true secret to life.”
Thorton shook her head. “Someday you'll find a special woman waiting for you to sweep her off her feet, like a knight in shining armor.”
Alan's laughter had no humor. “Me? A knight? Like your husband?”
“Never cut yourself short by comparing yourself to another. God made us all different, and also made a perfect mate for each of us. You just haven't found yours ... yet.”
“I thought I had.”
“A simple case of infatuation.”
“Beautiful, tenderhearted, and wise as well,” Alan murmured, raising her hand to his lips.
Griggs cleared his throat as he entered the room. He kept his scowl aimed at Garrick as he handed a glass to Thorton.
“I could have sworn I asked for brandy,” she said.
“Nonsense,” Griggs stated gruffly. “You wanted a cool glass of water.”
She almost smiled at the blustering old man. “How lucky I am to have someone like you looking out for me.”
Griggs gave a quick nod, but his gaze remained on Garrick. “I believe, sir, it's time you made your departure.”
Rising to his feet, Alan raised Thorton's hand once again to his lips. “I can't leave yet. I haven't heard you say whether you forgive me.”
“You're forgiven,” Thorton replied, freeing her hand.
“May I be your friend?” Alan asked with a teasing smile. “Will you grace me with a smile when we find ourselves standing opposite each other on a crowded ballroom floor?”
“Friends.”
“Then I'll take my leave.” Alan gave a slight bow before turning.
“About time,” Griggs’ muttered. “Don't be surprised if Blake's second calls on you.”
Alan looked over his shoulder and smiled. “We all must do what we must.”
“There will be no seconds!” Authority filled Thorton's words. “Good day, Alan.”
“Till we meet again.” He tossed her a roguish wink before leaving.
“Meet, indeed,” Griggs muttered. “We'll see about that.”
Thorton held out her hand to him. When his large, bony fingers locked around hers, she stared into his troubled eyes. “Tell me, Griggs.”
He nodded knowingly. “If Blake was talking to her, I guarantee he wasn't speaking pleasantries. She's a vulture, preying on men of easy conquest.”
Thorton thought over his words. Was Blake an easy conquest? N
ot with her, he wasn't.
Griggs gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “You've nothing to fear. The Baron will not fall prey to that vicious lady. She had her chance. Blake made her his mistress before he left for the war. To my knowledge, he spent only one night with her. After his return, he waited...”
Thorton watched Griggs with intense eyes. “Go on.”
“I shouldn't be telling you this.”
“Pooh. If you don't, someone else will. Someone like Mr. Garrick.”
“Blake waited, giving his face sufficient time to heal before venturing here to London. Miss Ashbrook, however, took one look at him and ended their association, saying she found someone new ... Mr. Lance Wellsbrough, Blake's close friend. After that, the men never spoke until the night Garrick and Wellsbrough arrived here on the pretense of welcoming Blake to Town.”
At least now she knew why Blake's eyes had turned hard upon seeing Lance escorting her the night before. And she also knew what Mr. Waldom had meant by his remark. “Had this ... lady ... meant so much to him?”
“Trust me,” Griggs said. “If he was speaking to her, he was likely telling the bitch how happy he is.”
Thorton gasped. “Such talk!” She couldn't help but love the dear man. Looking into his warm gray eyes she knew exactly why Sarah found herself in love with him.
“I've heard worse from your mouth, Milady,” Griggs said, lifting his chin.
“Lies!” When she tried to look innocent and failed, she laughed.
“Of course, you only say them when you're practicing flipping skills.”
“Flipping skills?” Thorton's brow creased.
“When you journey to the upper floor.”
Thorton smiled when she finally understood. Since their arrival in London, she had taken over one of the third-floor rooms to practice her flips and spins, fearing the lack of exercise would make her stiff and inflexible. “Spying. Most ungentlemanly.”
“Nonsense. It's called being a good servant.”
“So that's how you ease your conscience? Fetch another cup, Griggs. I'd like to speak with you about something important.”