The Surrender of a Lady

by Tiffany Clare

  If a man loved a woman, would he steal her like some barbarian thief in the night? He was a sick, twisted man. The smashing of glass rang through the hall as Peters opened the door. Griffin wondered if he should go to her, then discarded the thought. He needed to gather his thoughts. Cool his temper.

  “What has the heathen done?” Peters asked as he entered the study.

  His voice was light and teasing, but Griffin was irritated by the whole turn of events and not in the mood for such frivolous commentary. He turned to stare at Peters while continuing to pace to and fro in front of the great mahogany desk that took up one wall of the study.

  “Refrain from insults. Unless you feel like being unmanned and picking yourself up off the street when I toss you out on your ass.”

  Peters only smiled at the threat before he sat down on a leather chair across from the desk. He watched Peters steeple his fingers and settled in for a lecture. “Has she gotten the better of you?”

  “Damn it. Shut that mouth of yours, Peters.” He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “That woman’s going to drive me mad.”

  Peters raised a brow in amusement. “Never did I think to see this day.”

  “Well, believe it.” Griffin roughly brushed his fingers through his hair.

  How could he have guessed she’d want to go back to that place? She was English, not Muslim, not a whore, and most certainly not the princess she pretended to be. When had Elena surrendered her life to play at being a sex slave? How was it possible for someone, more specifically a lady, brought up in English society, to throw away her beliefs and embrace the depravities of the darker parts of the world? He had practically handed it all back to her on a platter and she had had the audacity to refuse it, to throw it in his face.

  Shouldn’t she be grateful to him for her freedom? Shouldn’t she throw herself down at his feet in gratitude and eternal thankfulness? Not beg to be sent back to her master!

  Had he misjudged her?

  It wasn’t possible. Or was it? This line of thought angered him to no end. Then there was the child. Had she had the child with Amir? With another patron?

  None of it really mattered.

  He knew what was best. In the end, she wouldn’t choose the life of a harlot over a life with someone of his status. He had so much more to offer her. Life without servitude, for one. Though what he offered probably seemed no better to her. In time, it would. That was what mattered.

  How in hell had he acted so harshly with her? He’d violated something sacred between them; it didn’t matter that sexual relations had been a paid service beforehand.

  He’d never done such a thing to a woman. Never.

  Worse, he still wanted to do that to Jinan.

  He was sinking in frustration, annoyance, and just plain anger because of her continuing charade. He’d outsmart her soon enough. Or it would be certain madness for them both.

  “Arrange for only Italian-speaking maids to attend us in my room. In fact, it might be better to remove anyone from the property who speaks English. I have a feeling Jinan cannot understand Italian. I know she’s fluent in English, Persian, and Turkish. I don’t want her pleading her woes to the staff. They don’t need to know any more than necessary.”

  “It’s already been done. There were few here who have a handle on the English language. Those who could speak it are on paid leave.”

  “That’s good. I have to go back upstairs.”

  Was that really a smart idea, though? Had he killed the passion in her? He rubbed at his eyes, wishing the image of her perfectly shaped form didn’t keep him in a raging stiffness. What in hell had he just done?

  He’d have to apologize. Maybe he could take her down to the gardens, let her have some fresh air and beg forgiveness for his actions. Would she forgive him? He could tell her his ultimate plan to marry her. Or was it the wrong time now?

  Damn it. It did him no good either way. He was annoyed about what he’d done and how he’d taken her. Peters just watched him with amusement, further annoying him. What would happen if he went back upstairs? Would he force himself on her again?

  He paused in his pacing and sat on the edge of the desk. Perhaps she acted spiteful in hopes he’d bring her back to her old master? Could it all be a ruse on her part? Inflaming his desires so he felt like a fool? Acted like a fool? Had she known he would do that?

  In fairness, she’d probably acted the way she did out of worry for her son. Assurance that he would retrieve her son was the only way this could move forward. The only way she’d forgive him.

  “Tell the staff dinner will be late tonight. Around ten. No one is to disturb me in the meantime.”

  Hopefully Jinan would settle in a little by that time. He was going to apologize. No, that would only prove he was in the wrong by kidnapping her. If he apologized, she’d still insist on him taking her home.

  This was her home now. She’d have to get used to that idea. Once she realized how much freedom was within her grasp, how much more she was entitled to here—once he could trust her with said freedom—she’d be melting with gratitude.

  “We must come to an understanding, Jinan.”

  His plan was not going as he wished. She paced before him, refusing to meet his gaze—refusing to listen to reason.

  “There is nothing for us to understand. I will not change my mind. You must let me go home. Or you must bring me back to the harem immediately.”

  “Maybe we are starting this conversation—or negotiation, if you will—in the wrong place for us to come to an understanding.”

  “You will never see it my way, my lord.”

  “Please, Jinan. We’ve been over this a hundred times, if not more—stop addressing me as my lord. Use Rothburn, Griffin, I care not. Just stop lording me.”

  Pinching the skin between her brows, she closed her eyes. She was probably coming up with some reprimand to suitably knock him down another notch. He couldn’t seem to sway her from this silly insistence that she needed to go back to the harem now. What had Amir threatened the harem women with, to hold to this notion that their lives were at risk? Interesting how she never once mentioned her son might be in danger. That told him—or at least he hoped that meant—Amir would not hurt his women.

  She continued her pacing back and forth on the carpet, her hands always rubbing at her face, and driving him to distraction.

  “Cease this pacing of yours, please.” Griffin stood and took a few steps toward her. He’d force her to stop and look at him if she didn’t do as asked.

  She stopped, her eyes narrowed as she turned to him. That damned veil snug as ever over her lower face.

  He was incensed by the mere sight of it. “Remove your disguise, Jinan. It’s unnecessary at this point, don’t you think?”

  “No. I will not remove my veil. You see, it is very necessary. You are not my husband, so you cannot demand anything of me.” She continued pacing. “Do you know it is a disgrace for one such as I to come to such a transgression? I should never be seen by anyone but my husband, so your demands mean nothing. Even Amir will not marry me. He has made me this creature, yes. I despise what he thought necessary for my fate. But this is the only life I have known for a long time.”

  “How long were you in the harem?” One question he was curious about and had never asked her.

  “Five years. Time is irrelevant, though.”

  “I’ve had enough of this arguing”—he held a hand out in invitation—“come to bed. We will figure these things out in the morning. You are tired from the journey, and your bout of sickness. And I’m just plain weary of everything.”

  He didn’t miss her quick glance at the closed door.

  “This is also another bad idea. You do not seem to understand the importance of contacting Amir.”

  “No, I do not. Nor do I plan to send the missive you requested. You could tell me the truth of why you are so eager to leave my company. Or we go to bed. Now.”

  He held his hand out to her
again. Instead of taking it, she walked past him and into the bedroom. The ferace she’d produced from his wardrobe was loosened from where it was secured under her arm and dropped to the floor. She turned when he didn’t make another move forward.

  “Is this not what you want of me? I am a slave to you as much as I was to Amir.”

  “You are mistaken in that.” He swallowed with great difficulty against the lump that had formed in his throat.

  She raised one brow in disbelief and shrugged her shoulder. “If you wish to pretend so.”

  “I do not wish to pretend anything with you, Jinan. You are the one fabricating one lie upon another. I have given you a gift and you refuse my generosity. I’ve made a million promises to find a way to free your son but you think the venture foolish.”

  “This is not generous, taking me from my home. You think I will grow to like this, I see that, but it is not how it will be. My home is with my sisters. My son. With . . .” She didn’t finish what she was going to say. He was glad for it, because another mention of Amir might set him off again.

  “Do not deny there is a connection between us. It’s been there since the moment we met. The very first time we met.” At the Glenmoores’ ball. Surely she knew that was what he referred to.

  He wearied of this game. He was not the villain in all that had transpired between them since her arrival. At least he hadn’t intentionally meant to be. Time was the only factor that would show her the very truth of his words, his kindness, his love. Why could she not see he wanted the best for her? It was nothing he could give a lot of thought to now; he was too damned tired from the trip here. This night could prove to be a long one if Jinan didn’t cooperate.

  “Do I need to tie you to the bedposts or will you stay put?”

  She didn’t answer as she crawled seductively across the bed and tossed the blankets aside.

  “There are night linens in the wardrobe for you.”

  “I do not want these clothes of yours.”

  “I’m not in the mood to fight with you, Jinan. You did not want my attentions earlier, I cannot imagine you want them now. Put on some clothes.”

  “Stop telling me what I should do. You are not my owner.”

  Damn impertinent woman. Fine, let her have her way in this. Griffin pulled his neckcloth off and tossed his shirt toward the chair. There was no way for her to get out of his rooms should she leave the bed without him noticing. His key was well hidden. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled his boots off and slid out of his trousers. He thought about removing his smallclothes and stopped himself from taking them off.

  Letting out a great yawn, he pushed the blankets farther down on the bed and scooped Jinan into his arms so her back was to his chest. “Sleep well,” was all he said as his fingers wrapped around her bared breast. Good thing he was too tired to do anything about the raging cockstand jutting out and pressing into her backside.

  He’d fix that come morning. But for now, sleep washed over his mind, shrouding him in the cloudy mist of dreams.

  She couldn’t sleep like this. How could anyone sleep with a man thrusting into your backside while presumably asleep? He’d been this way for a while now, at least an hour as far as she could tell with the ticking on the mantel clock. His fingers pinching at her nipples, his cock strained against the material of his smallclothes, seeking entrance to her body.

  If she took him in hand and let him frig himself off, would he just spurt out whatever dream he was having? Or would he wake up and want more from her? Because it was impossible to fall asleep when a man was blindly pawing and groping at you. She might not want his sexually deviant attentions now but come morning she’d be too tired and foggy-minded to push him away. Worse, she might even welcome him.

  This was partly her fault. She didn’t have to climb into bed naked as a newborn. He would have been less tempted—well, she couldn’t really be sure of that, either. He did have a voracious appetite.

  First, she needed to try to slide out from his grasp. Rolling over to her stomach, while his hand was pinned between the mattress and her breast, she inched toward the edge of the bed. She didn’t even know where to go if she made it from the bed. Clothes would be the first thing to procure.

  She’d heard the click of the lock when he came back up to the room, clear as a bird chirping at first light. The windows were nailed shut; maybe she could find something to pull them out.

  Her options were few. Perhaps there was a panel door that slid open somewhere along these walls? She couldn’t tell by looking at the ones in the bedroom; it was too dark, and the curtains had been drawn against the starlit night.

  Hooking her knee over the side of the bed, she pulled herself slowly out of Rothburn’s hold.

  “Naughty, naughty,” he mumbled hotly next to her ear, his hand squeezing her breast so he had a firmer embrace as he tucked her back under his body.

  She stilled, wondering if he was asleep or fully aware that she was trying to make an escape. Better she just stay like this for a while, maybe even an hour or more, in case he was awake. She tilted her ear away from the pillows and listened to his breathing. It was deep and even, but he could be concentrating on keeping it that way.

  She waited. When she thought it safe to move again, she waited some more.

  It wasn’t to be, she realized, when Rothburn’s hand slid from her breast and found its way between her thighs. The press of his hard cock against her backside made her release a brief, surprised screech. She couldn’t feign sleep now that he’d heard that. Even if she hadn’t made the sound, Rothburn knew her body too well, and she’d been wet since he pulled her in tight to his body. His fingers would find that moisture at any moment.

  Damn her body.

  He groaned his appreciation when his fingers slid between the slick folds of her sex, searching out her bud. He marked her shoulder with his teeth and rolled her fully onto her stomach. His weight came down on her, his knees spreading her legs farther apart.

  He drove two fingers into her convulsing sheath before she could even think of objecting. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of a groan, she bit through her veil and into the pillow.

  It wasn’t fair that she still had some feelings of tenderness for him, when he’d taken her life away from her with the snap of his lordly fingers. She held her breath as his fingers drove harder into her. His free hand pushed her hair aside and his tongue laved into her ear.

  What she wanted to do and what she knew she had to do were two completely opposing things. It was best to push him off. She still had no protection if he spurted his seed into her womb. And if he impregnated her, Amir might not take her back. Where would that leave her son? She didn’t want to find out, she just wanted to go home, and with that thought she pushed all her weight up and tried to get Rothburn off her back.

  He stopped his attentions to give her ear a sharp nip to the lobe. “Your body wants me, Jinan.”

  It was the truth, but she shook her head and tried to push her elbow back into his ribs. He caught and held her arm there.

  “You want this,” he all but growled. “Admit it.”

  His hand slipped between the bed and her stomach as he tilted her pelvis back and slipped his cock into her sheath in one thrust.

  She grunted her surprise once, then made no other betraying sounds. Yes, she did want this. But she’d be damned if she would admit to such a thing.

  “Damn it, just say it, you stubborn woman.” His voice was calmer, but his strokes were still forceful, strong. His balls slapped against her nether region on each downward stroke.

  She lay there, afraid her body would respond if she found and matched his rhythm. She let him take his pleasure as she lay beneath him trying to think of her escape. When his fist tightened in her hair, she knew he was going to come to his crisis. And hated him and herself for everything that had happened. Not just everything in the last few minutes, but since her supposed last session in the Pleasure Gardens.

  Let his see
d dry up and prove infertile. Please . . . Amir cannot banish my son and me now, not after all I’ve worked for.

  She voiced a sob then. It didn’t matter what she did, he came, great jets of his seed squirting into her channel. After a few small thrusts of his hips and twitches of his semihard cock inside her, he released her and rolled over to his back, his breathing hoarse.

  In her haste to leave the bed she fell to the carpeted floor, banging her knee with the impact. She scrambled away from the bed, desperate to get his seed out of her. Retrieving the washing bowl she’d spied earlier, she put it on the floor and upended the pitcher in it, uncaring that it splashed on the floor around her.

  The shadow of Rothburn came closer, but she paid him no mind. She had to get his seed out.

  She was aware—barely—that she sobbed aloud as she squatted over the basin and submerged a small hand towel, soaking up as much water as it would take. She slipped as much of her hand inside her vaginal walls as she painfully could with the cloth. She felt his seed there, its consistency so different from hers as she wiped it out and frantically washed the cloth in the water below her so she could repeat the process.

  Rothburn’s face flickered in front of hers, a lit candle illuminating the space between them. His mouth moved, but she didn’t hear his words. The roaring of her anger buzzed so loudly in her ears it drowned out her surroundings.

  She looked to the basin and scooped up water to wash around the entrance of her sheath. She could still feel his seed there. Would it plant in her womb? Would she bring another child into this godforsaken world? She didn’t want that to happen—it couldn’t happen.

  She’d get his seed out.

  What were the herbs she was to use if she found herself with child? She knew only their Arabic and Turkish names. She couldn’t even begin to translate their names to English.

  Her sheath was sore and raw from her ministrations, as if it had had one too many fuckings without the aid of feminine lubrication.

  She heard the hiss of his breath and his voice pounding through her ears.