Stella Cameron

by Fascination

  She heard a rustle from the bed.

  “I do hope I’m not disturbing the rest you must so sorely need, but I understand you wish to speak with me.”

  Another rustle.

  For the first time Grace felt a twinge of pity. The poor man must be too weak to make himself heard.

  “Mr. Innes came to London and told me you have need of a ...” How bizarre it all sounded spoken aloud. She had been selected as one might select a horse—according to the duties it was to fulfill. “I agreed to be what you need at this time.” Now that she thought of it, she wasn’t entirely certain what it was that the marquess was supposed to need.

  Grace went to the bed and cleared her throat. “I

  am going to open the curtains. If you prefer me not to do so, please give me a sign.”

  She was met with absolute silence.

  Grace parted the draperies.

  “Your lordship?” She leaned over.

  The bed was empty. Counterpane and sheets were folded back, smooth pillows were stacked, and there was no sign of the Marquess of Stonehaven.

  Relief brought a giggle bubbling into her throat. But where was he? Where could someone incapable of walking possibly have gone?

  “I did as you asked, Grace,” a man’s deep voice said, very softly, and she clutched handfuls of the bed drapes. “Your hair is falling out of its prim chignon, my dear.”

  Niall’s voice.

  She touched her hair, looking around. “Where are you?”

  The drapes opposite parted. “Here, of course, exactly as you instructed. Didn’t you tell me to hide behind the marquess’s bed curtains?”

  Any joy she might have felt at the sight of him was extinguished by the cold glitter in his eyes.

  “You did tell me to be here? To hide in case the marquess fell upon you and did you violence?”

  Grace nodded.

  “All the frightful stories you heard—and believed—about him must have made it very difficult for you to come here tonight.”

  “I had no choice.” Her voice cracked.

  “Of course not. No choice if you wanted to reap the bounty you’re prepared to sell your body and soul to gain.”

  He did not sound himself at all. And she did not understand what ... Yes, she did understand what he implied, but not why he was so angry. She had been honest with him from their first meeting.

  “His lordship wishes to speak to me.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  “I expect he’s decided the time has come to arrange the wedding.” Why, oh why didn’t Niall smile, or offer her some shred of comfort?

  “And then you will get your price, lovely imp.” He averted his face, and in the firelight, his profile was harsh, arrogantly masculine. “How I wish this were otherwise.”

  He regretted that she was promised to another. Grace’s heart lifted. “I, too. But this is a matter of necessity. And convenience—and we must make the best of it. My feelings for you will not change.”

  “And what exactly are your feelings for me?”

  Never, ever, must a lady allow a gentleman to know the full extent of his effect upon her, not if she wished to retain his esteem. Mama had told her that much. “I find that I anticipate each of our meetings with the deepest pleasure.”

  “I thought so. Yet you failed to keep our last appointment.”

  “You ... annoyed me. You were arrogant and you ordered me to appear. And you left me ... Well, I was not at all comfortable when you left.”

  He laughed shortly. “Not at all comfortable? What a quaint turn of phrase you do have. I left you unfulfilled, and women such as you demand fulfillment.”

  “You misunderstand. I do not care to be told what to do—not by someone who has no authority over me.”

  “And you decided to punish me? How predictable.”

  “No. Not at all. I was simply ... It seemed advisable not to come until I fully understood certain things.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  She felt herself blush and blessed the gloom that would hide her pink cheeks. “I prefer not to. It would seem from your cross countenance this evening that you are angry with me. That saddens me, but I have learned in my life to accept disappointment.”

  “How so?”

  “How is of no importance, but I had noted your lack of enthusiasm at my suggestion that we appeared compatible enough to forge a long-standing friendship.”

  “Friendship!” He laughed aloud. “How I love your little codes. The other evening you wanted to ensure that you could count on satisfactory service whenever you required it. That is the friendship you sought.”

  “Kindly make yourself plain.” Her lips trembled and she set them firmly together.

  “Very well,” he said, throwing the bed hangings wide apart. “Since you insist on basic language. You anticipated that I would be delighted to offer up my body on demand—your demand.”

  His words were like none she had heard before. “You sound so strange.”

  “Do I.” He crammed the back of a hand against his mouth, and Grace noticed what she’d been too shocked to notice before: He wore a black silk robe open all the way to the sash that held it together at the waist. Black hair curled over his broad, muscular chest.

  Grace looked quickly away.

  “In truth, my dear, I shall be more than grateful to offer up that particular part of my body that most interests you. Even as we speak it is letting me know how ready it is to satisfy you this very instant. But I must teach it that in this, as in all things that concern you and me, it must always be my will, not yours, that is served. Do you understand what I am telling you?”

  “You are not dressed,” she said, not caring that her voice rose to a squeak.

  “Of course not. A decrepit, ailing man rarely dresses for dinner, madam.”

  Her heart beat so loudly, she could scarcely hear her own thoughts. “I was summoned by the marquess. Where is he?”

  “Ah, yes. Forgive me. In the heat of the moment I quite forgot myself. Everything and everyone should be exactly as expected.”

  Grace dared another peek at him. “You confuse me.” Her hands stole to her lips. “What are you doing?”

  Holding her gaze, he stripped off the robe and stood, legs braced apart, hands on hips.

  He was naked.

  She turned away. “Please cover yourself!”

  “Certainly. But only if you look at me.”

  “I cannot possibly.”

  “You looked at me before.”

  Embarrassment made her dizzy. “That was ... It was different.”

  “Not so calculated, you mean? Ah, me. Your act was very titillating and really almost convincing, but, my dear, your every move was calculated.”

  “I shall go now. Kindly tell the marquess I came as he requested. I’ll speak with him when he’s certain he’s ready to do so.”

  “He’s certain.”

  “Yes. Tell him that.” She couldn’t seem to make her feet move.

  “The marquess is certain now. Let us begin our conversation, fiancée.”

  Grace squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. Cautiously she looked over her shoulder. He lay on the bed, on his side, his head propped on a palm.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked him.

  The white sheet was pulled up to his lean hips, but he hadn’t bothered to entirely cover a solid flank—or that other part of him.

  Grace’s face blazed yet again. This time she could not look away. The stark white linen showed his gleaming, bronzed skin to advantage. The base of that other part of him sprang from a thicket as dark as all of his hair. The rest, that which the sheet concealed, moved.

  “Oh, my,” Grace murmured.

  “Obviously what you see pleases you.”

  Her gaze shot to his face.

  “I’m surprised you insisted on the nicety of modesty,” he said.

  The curl of his sensual lips, the narrowing of eyes turned glowing green by the fire, t
he sharp gleam of cheekbone and jaw, held her speechless.

  “You suggested I might look forward to accompanying you to London—if things did not work out here. No doubt the prospect of grinding away in a conveniently bucking coach all the way to London brought you near to ecstatic madness. Come, let us consider how it would be.”

  He was confusing and frightening her.

  “Enough of this, sir.”

  “Sir again. How very odd. You always call me sir when we are closest to falling upon one another.”

  “Kindly give the marquess my regards. I doubt if we shall meet now.”

  “We already have.”

  Grace stared into his eyes until they became blurred.

  “Don’t you understand yet? Are you too befuddled by the aching tips of your pretty breasts to think? Does the moist, demanding throb at your center completely addle your brain?”

  “You—” She could not swallow. Her tongue was too dry to moisten the roof of her mouth. “No. You

  jest with me. And I don’t understand everything you say, but I know you speak in a most ungentlemanly fashion.”

  “A gentleman is a gentleman in the company of a lady, my sweet. You and I are on equal footing here—at least in the area of what is required to satisfy our animal lusts.”

  Grace went to back away. Niall’s free hand darted to grab her wrist and pull until she half-kneeled, half-sprawled across the bed.

  “I am Arran Francis William Rossmara, sixth Marquess of Stonehaven.”

  This could not be true. She shook her head. The things she had said to this man in the music gallery flooded back.

  “Yes, it is true. And you, Grace Charlotte Wren, are my fiancée. You will become my wife on a day appointed by me.”

  “No!” He had made her a fool, or at least allowed her to make a fool of herself.

  “No? Of course you will. You will have everything you want. Money, position, and a man who excites you to distraction. Come. Let us start what we intend to enjoy frequently.” He began to draw her slowly over the mattress. “The games are finished. The sooner the rutting begins, the sooner we can dispense with the main reason for which you were brought here.”

  Grace struggled against him, and he held her where she was with her face only inches from his belly.

  “You cannot be the marquess. He is old. He asked me to come and take care of his remaining earthly needs. Then I am to be free.”

  “No one ever told you the marquess was old. You merely assumed as much because that was what you wanted to assume. But be glad, my dear one, you are to be saved so much bother. You need not skulk around dark passageways to find your pleasure, because I shall frequently be in your bed. And I shall quickly enlighten you on the subject of my remaining earthly needs.” His laugh was bitter. “You shall tend them for as long as you amuse me.”

  “You told me you were Niall! You told me you were the marquess’s closest companion.”

  “I have been called Niall—by some very dear friends. And I told you I knew the marquess better than any other. Perhaps I was not entirely straightforward, but can you blame me under the circumstances?”

  “Yes, I can blame you. How dare you treat me so, sir!”

  “I’ve decided you shall learn to call me Stonehaven. It denotes a certain familiarity, but not intimacy—not intimacy of spirit.”

  A lump formed in her throat. “You are cruel. You caused us to become ... It was because of you that I thought we were friends, and now I discover you deceived me.”

  “No. You believed what you wanted to believe. Now, let us dispense with our business. I find I have developed a very pressing need. I doubt I shall have the will to ignore it again as I did the last time we were together.”

  “You speak nonsense.”

  He pulled her another inch over the bed. “You are not what I would have chosen in a wife had I had the time and the patience to make my own search.”

  “Let me go.” She twisted, but he shifted his grip to hold her wrists against the bed.

  “Calum could not have known what you intended to accomplish here. You and your parent thought you had planned well. Heartless, both of you. Heartless and greedy. Your pretty speech about wanting a husband who would consider you an equal had a certain sweetness to it. Outrageous as the suggestion was, I almost believed you.”

  “I do want that!” She struggled fiercely, and in vain. “I did want it. I even thought that perhaps ... No. Now I have decided I want no husband at all. Not ever. Men are beasts and unworthy of love.”

  “Love! Hah! Let us not speak of what does not exist. Enough of this foolishness—although I do find that the fire in you excites me.” He moved rapidly, scooping her up and depositing her on her back beside him. Evading her flailing hands, he went to work unfastening the spencer. “You must be roasting in this wretched, tight thing. Off with it at once.”

  “No! No!”

  But he unhooked and rolled and slid and pulled until the little jacket could be tossed aside. “Better,” he said, assessing the brief, square-cut bodice of her muslin gown with its long, tight sleeves and filmy skirt. He pulled her hands above her head and anchored them to the mattress. “I think I should wait a little after all. You want what I want, but I certainly don’t intend you to get it an instant before I decide you should.”

  He’d discarded the sheet and now he swung a powerful leg over her hips and rose to sit over her, his weight upon his heels. “You wear that cheap little trinket all the time,” he said of the long gold chain with its enameled bluebird pendant. “But no doubt you’ll soon forget it in favor of the jewels you expect to receive from me.”

  Staring straight up at the canopy above her head, Grace tried not to think about the solid thing that pressed against her most private parts. “The necklace was given to me by my grandmother when I was a child. It is my most valued possession and I shall wear it always.”

  “Touching.” Trapping both of her hands in one of his, he lifted the little bluebird. For an instant she feared he might break the chain and throw it away in disgust. Instead, he used the bird to trace her lips.

  Grace jerked her head away.

  “Mm. We shall probably share many interesting hours in this bed, my sweet. And elsewhere—all sorts of elsewheres. I expect you’ve already made love in a coach, but—”

  “I have not, sir!”

  “Good. Then we must remedy that at my earliest convenience.” The bird was drawn in a fleeting line along her jaw to her ear. Grace jumped, and Niall—or Stonehaven or whoever he was—laughed.

  “I want to get up.”

  “I don’t want you to get up—yet. I’ll tell you when I do. In fact, that brings a quite interesting prospect to mind. But I’m not ready.”

  The sharp edge of a tiny wing descended her neck and toyed in the hollows above her collarbones.

  Grace began to tingle. She screwed up her eyes and willed her body not to react.

  “Every bit of you is so delectably sensitive. I shall do this to you in the coach.” With that, the bird slipped over the swell of her left breast and into her décolletage. “As soon as we are on the road, I’ll draw down the shades and strip you. Then I shall instruct John Coachman to drive very fast. And you, my dear, shall sit where I sit now—astride my hips. And the rest ...?” His smile was undisguised evil.

  She began to panic. “Please!”

  “Patience. There is little that is not enhanced by careful, slow execution. This bodice is a convenient thing.” To prove his point, he contrived to dip the side of his hand inside and reveal her right breast. “Perfect. Let us see how it likes this.”

  Grace squirmed, felt his hardness probe her through flimsy fabric, and lay still. He used the gold bird in a way she had never thought of it being used before. Cool metal drew the full, pink circle around her nipple.

  “Oh!” Breath caught in her throat. She shuddered. “Oh, please. “

  “Yes, yes.” The next circle was smaller, and the next, until, finally, he rubb
ed the very tip of her nipple. “Yes, Grace. I like watching you. I like it very much. Your body doesn’t lie, and honesty is something I like very much. Such an eager bud. A ripe berry. I also like ripe berries.”

  “My arms hurt.” And her breasts ached in a way that frightened her. She mustn’t want him to continue, but she did, more than anything else.

  Stonehaven let out a long sigh. “Then I must finish what I intend to do.”

  The next thing Grace felt was his teeth closing on her puckered nipple. He nipped and suckled—gently but insistently—then pulled harder with his lips while his tongue swirled.

  She would not let this happen. Grace bucked against him. “Stop it! Stop it now. Let me up.”

  He released her arms so abruptly, she forgot to move.

  “You’re angry,” he said, still sitting astride her hips. “And embarrassed. Just as you should be. Your duplicity shames you. Listen and listen well.”

  When she tried to avert her face, he turned her chin and held her where she could only look back at him.

  “Within days we shall be married.”

  “Never.”

  “Pretty. Very pretty. Your maidenly objection is noted and given the consideration it deserves. As soon as we are married, we will set about the primary business for which you were brought here. In fact, the only business for which you were brought here.”

  “I will do nothing for you. You do not need a nurse, sir.”

  He showed his strong teeth in what was more snarl than smile and reached above her head into a pocket in the bed hangings. “Things are not entirely as you had planned. Unfortunate, but there it is. Sometimes we must adjust and make the best of what we can accomplish. I do not need a nurse, but I will pay you as handsomely as you anticipated being paid for that service. Here.” Onto her breasts, he dropped a cascade of rubies—rubies and diamonds set in intricate patterns of gold and forming a girdle. “This should make a fine down payment for the services you will render me.”

  Grace began to pant. “Take it! I don’t want it. Please take it away.”

  Stonehaven’s face hardened. “Fate appears to have dealt me another blow.” His eyes lost focus. “I knew someone else with your flair for drama. How ironic.”

  “I’m going to scream.”