Diana shook her head. “You forget our bargain. I promised to marry you, nothing was said about … this part.” Her eyes settled on the bed and then on him. “I’ll fight you if you try and force me. I give you my word on that.” He made a movement toward her, but Diana backed away. “I will fight you, Tanner.”
She had no idea how she appeared to him at that moment. With her dark dress shrouding her figure and the way she clutched at the neckline of the ugly creation, she looked small and frightened. And repulsed, an inner voice nagged him. Tanner felt hope die within him at that second. All of his plans, all of the finagling to free Richmond and help Diana’s family had been for nothing. She wouldn’t come to him on her own and he wouldn’t force her. What would be the sense in taking a woman who didn’t want him, a woman who loathed him? And Diana should loathe him. He hated himself for the things he’d done in the past, things he couldn’t think about without dying a little inside at the memories — some things he could never tell her. But he wanted her regardless of the lie she’d told about him seven years ago. He’d never admit to her just how much he still wanted her and was unable to tell her how much her rejection of him stung.
“You’ve bested me,” Tanner said with a hint of smile. “You’re quite correct about the bargain we struck. Nothing was said about your performing a wife’s duty. I took that aspect of the marriage for granted. I’m sorry, Diana.”
Did she hear Tanner correctly? Was he going to give up so easily without an argument? Though she should have felt relief when he retreated to a seat in the large chair by the fireplace, she couldn’t deny she felt slighted. Evidently Tanner didn’t desire her at all, and she’d been correct in her original assessment that he wanted Briarhaven and not her. God, how humiliating all of this is! she thought to herself, and was at a loss as to what to do now.
“I need to undress,” she stated inanely.
“Go ahead.”
“But the hooks, and you’re sitting here…”
“Come here this instant, you silly wench!” His command caused her to jump, and for whatever reason, whether fear or something else, she found herself waiting in front of him before he turned her roughly around and pulled her down on his lap. “Don’t even think of wriggling away until I get these damned hooks undone,” he demanded, his hot breath wafting across her naked back, which wasn’t concealed by the thin chemise she wore. When he’d finished with the dress he surprised her by holding her head in place and pulling the pins from the knot at her neckline. Her heavy dark tresses fell into the palms of his hands. A tiny surge of shock coursed through her as his fingers stroked and settled the silken curls into place at her waistline.
“Diana.” His voice sounded thick and husky. “You may get up now.”
Standing up, she nearly stumbled toward the bed, very much aware of how the warmth of Tanner’s body still clung to her backside. She faced him, all too conscious that her cheeks were flushed from the intimate way he’d attended her. “I can manage on my own,” she said stiffly, believing that Tanner would be on his way. She needed time to think about all that had happened to her today, to drive away the feel of his fingers on her flesh, in her hair. But Tanner only lifted an eyebrow.
“I’m quite content here and won’t leave my own room so you can ready for bed, if that’s what you’re implying, my sweet.”
“Well, you can’t stay here and watch me undress. It isn’t proper.”
“We’re married, Diana, remember.”
“But our bargain…”
“Our bargain was that you agree to marry me, and I told you that you bested me and I won’t demand my husbandly rights. However,” his black eyes danced with amber sparks of devilment, “I don’t think our bargain would be broken if I watch you undress, do you?”
“I won’t!”
Tanner considered her and indolently tapped the crop upon his knee. “I think you’ll do as I say, Diana. Curtis isn’t too far away for me to stop him from his destination.”
His threat was clear, and it caused Diana to shudder. “You’re blackmailing me again.”
“Call it whatever you like, but you will step out of that horrid gown you’re so valiantly clutching to your breasts, and I’ll watch while you do so. It was no small feat for me to convince Rawdon to release your sister’s husband. Rawdon wasn’t receptive to the idea at all, but I convinced him.” Tanner leaned forward, the strength of his massive shoulders not to be denied, and the clenching of his jaw an indication that he’d brook no further outbursts of temper from her. “I’m eager to see what I bought in exchange for obtaining Richmond’s freedom.”
God, he was a merciless cad, and the words to deny him nearly slipped past her lips. But he leaned back and tapped the crop in the palm of his hand, almost if he were waiting for her to refuse. Diana stared hypnotically at the beastly thing, so thin and seemingly harmless, but so very damaging when applied to tender flesh. Even now, after more than a year, the faint scars on her back seared like pinpoints of fire. She’d never be able to survive another such attack as the one by Kingsley. A quivering coward, that’s what she was, unable to tear her gaze from the fearsome, black instrument.
She didn’t look at the man who held the crop as she pulled off her dress, allowing it to fall in a dark puddle around her feet. Her white chemise hugged what little curves she possessed, the material so thin from constant wear that it was nearly transparent, but it was a buffer of security between herself and Tanner’s lecherous intentions. Until he ordered her to remove it …
She trembled like a frightened doe before Tanner. She, Diana Sheridan, the silly twit who bravely passed information to the Swamp Fox about the British, was letting this man rule her and force her to undress before him because she feared a riding crop. But she was afraid, more afraid than she’d ever been of being captured on her nightly sojourns into the swamps. She’d always been a bit scared of Tanner’s strength, the power over the slaves that forced them to obey him and not Kingsley. At that moment she was little better than a slave ordered by the master to strip for him. And she stripped down to nothing because he held the crop.
“Look at me, Diana!”
Hearing his raised voice, she jumped and did as she was bid, knowing the crop’s position every second.
“I assure you I won’t bite you, so stop being so nervous and skittish.”
“Can I dress?” she asked in a breathy voice, eager to cover herself now that she’d done what he wanted.
“I haven’t looked my full yet.”
Stifling a groan, Diana wasn’t able to halt the consuming blush that colored her body in rose-petal splotches when he gestured her to come closer. The crop dangled along the side of the chair. Tanner seemed to have forgotten it; she hoped he had, because his frank appraisal of her body was about all she could handle at that moment.
“You’re much too thin,” he noted, “but with Cammie’s good cooking, you’ll soon fill out.” He leaned back in the chair, perusing her as thoroughly as an artist deciding on his subject, missing nothing.
Let him look, Diana decided. He couldn’t touch her intimately, he’d promised her that. That knowledge made her a bit smug. But seconds later she realized she’d underestimated Tanner — again. As the crop rose toward her fear paralyzed her to such a degree that she was unable to move or speak, certain he would beat her. The memory of her on her knees before Kingsley flashed through her mind, her own pitiful begging words resounded in her ears. She must fight this time, she must win, but she steeled herself for the assault.
Expecting wracking pain, Diana was more than startled to find the crop lazily slithering up her calf, past her thigh, stopping at her waist to hover in the slight indentation. She willed herself neither to look at Tanner or to move, even when the tip began a slow ascent to the rounded mounds of her breasts, circling them with a lover’s touch and gently lapping at the rosebud nipples like a velvet tongue.
Something deep, dark, and wicked stirred within her, and she helplessly lifted her eyes
to find an equal amount of darkness and wickedness reflected on Tanner’s face.
“You promised … not to … touch me,” she whispered.
Tanner smiled, and a strange feeling clutched at her, bringing an ache to her lower body that she hadn’t felt since the night he tried to have his way with her. “I’m not touching you. The crop is,” he contended.
Still, it was as if he had touched her and filled her with this fire and wanton longing for something she’d never known. This was wrong, wrong! her mind screamed at her. Why wasn’t she frightened of the damned crop any longer? Why did she suddenly, almost pervertedly, crave the sensual movement of the blasted tip across her body? The very instrument of her torture was now causing a melting feeling in the center of her womanhood, and all because Tanner wielded it. She’d never experienced this sensation when Kingsley had touched her. Why with Tanner? Why did she suddenly wish he’d use his fingers? Why did she see Tanner as naked as she, the two of them falling to the rug before the fireplace, their bodies entwined?
“Stop it!” Diana demanded of him and of her own daydreams, fearing he’d hurt her again. “You’ve looked your fill for one night and I’ve done my duty by you. I’m getting ready for bed.”
How authoritative she sounded! How far from the way she felt! But she slipped hurriedly into the nightgown that Cammie must have left on the bed earlier that evening and dove beneath the bed covers to pull the quilts up to her neck.
“Madam, your modesty overwhelms me.”
He was making sport of her, but she didn’t care. Let him say whatever he chose. Words hurt far less than a physical beating or her own body’s betrayal by the very object she’d come to abhor.
“Thank you, sir,” she mocked his tone of voice. “At least I take no delight in perversion.”
She saw him lift an eyebrow before bending over her. His arms locked on either side of her. “Perverse, am I? Well, my darling wife, I’m not the one who turned to a mass of quivering flesh at the touch of a riding crop. In the future you’d do well to curb your perverse responses, otherwise a man might believe you’re used to such odd pleasuring.”
“I detest you! Get out of my room.”
“Our room, dearest,” he reminded her.
Clutching the quilt tightly about her, Diana sensed he was leaving when he stood up and straightened the snow white cravat at his neck and dusted off a speck of dust on the black velvet jacket with a casual flick of his hand. He shot her a smile that might have melted her heart once long ago, if she’d been able to trust him.
“I’m going out for a while, but I’ll return later, never fear. Since you seem so fond of it, I’ll leave the riding crop with you. Perhaps you can put it to good use.” Tanner winked at her and laughed at the venomous look she threw his way when he placed the crop on the bed beside her.
Hot anger boiled through her, but she wasn’t allowed the chance to say anything, for at that moment he abruptly vacated the room. His deep, booming laugh echoed from downstairs, but the slamming of the front door sounded less than amusing.
~
“I tell you, lads, she couldn’t get enough of me. Every minute she had her hands on me and in a place I daren’t mention, either.”
“Aw, Captain Farnsworth,” the tavern keeper skeptically commented. “I remember the lady’s father and seeing the two of them on the street together, too. A more respectable girl I’d never seen.”
“I assure you she isn’t that way any longer, is she, Smythe?” Farnsworth nudged the man sitting next to him, causing ale to spill onto the sleeve of Smythe’s uniform. “Tell Mr. Dinwoody what I said is true.”
Smythe hid his scowl and wiped the stain away, but he lowered his head and mumbled into his cup. “What the captain says is true.”
Farnsworth grinned, his complacency all too apparent to Tanner, who sat across the taproom from him.
Motioning to the serving girl, Tanner had her refill his own cup. He’d arrived at the pink-colored tavern on Chalmers Street two hours ago. Smoke and the smell of spirits permeated the room, as did the loud guffaws coming from Farnsworth’s table. Whoever the woman was that Farnsworth bragged about must be a hot-blooded wench, and Tanner was envious. He’d had his share of women over the years, but the last few months he hadn’t touched one, somehow unable to imagine being with any woman other than Diana.
“What a simpleton I am,” he muttered and quaffed the ale in one gulp.
His attention was diverted once more to Farnsworth. The man stood up and suddenly spied Tanner sitting at a corner table. Drunkenly swaggering over to him, Farnsworth held out his hand, which Tanner summarily shook.
“Goodness, Mariah, it’s been ages since I last saw you. New York, wasn’t it? Two years ago?”
Tanner nodded and motioned for him to sit down. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t refer to me by that name,” Tanner informed him none too pleasantly. “I’m not Mariah any longer. I gave up my … work … a few months ago.”
“Certainly, man. I understand.” Farnsworth lowered his voice. “What shall I call you? I never did know your true name? In your sort of work, well, I can understand your reason for anonymity.”
What was it about Farnsworth’s impeccable manners and good breeding that constantly irritated him? Even in New York, where he’d report to Farnsworth if General Clinton wasn’t available, he found the man aggravating and false. Then again, perhaps he wasn’t the one to judge whether Farnsworth was false or not. Over the last seven years he’d played many people for fools and been less than honest. In fact, he’d been a traitor to his own people. A British spy — a man who willingly had turned in many a patriot for gold and now was reaping the rewards of that deviousness by buying the Sheridan townhouse, claiming Briarhaven, and forcing Diana to marry him. God, he was richer than he’d ever dreamed of being, but he felt poorer than the lowliest beggar.
Now he was retired from the spy game, and game it was, too. He had loved outmaneuvering his opponents in a match that was risky and deadly but always exciting. Rawdon knew about him and so did Farnsworth. Tanner could trust Rawdon to keep silent about his past. He wasn’t certain about Farnsworth.
“I hope you do and that you understand the implications,” Tanner stated in a doleful tone that caused Farnsworth’s ears to perk up and a serious look to shadow his face. “My name is Tanner Sheridan. As far as I’m concerned, Mariah is dead.”
Farnsworth nodded a bit too quickly, but he grew pensive. “You can’t be a relative of the Sheridans at Briarhaven plantation.”
“Not as far as I’m concerned.”
Farnsworth didn’t catch the hidden meaning in Tanner’s words but went heedlessly on. “I commandeered Briarhaven for my headquarters months ago. In fact I recently escorted Diana Sheridan to her sister’s home. Funny about that, however, because Mrs. Sheridan seems to have disappeared along with her sister.”
“Really?”
Farnsworth smirked and nudged Tanner with an elbow. “I’d like to find Mrs. Sheridan. Diana. I was telling the boys about her. A lusty widow, and a finer piece of womanhood you won’t find in all of South Carolina.”
Tanner saw red at that second, growing suddenly and sickeningly aware that the woman Farnsworth had bragged about to his men was Diana. His Diana had lain with this man, had allowed him to touch her, to make love to her. He couldn’t believe it, but then again what could Tanner expect? Diana had been widowed for nearly a year when Farnsworth arrived, just ripe for the plucking. But she hadn’t wanted Tanner Sheridan’s touch. In fact, she’d been revolted by him. He’d waited years to accumulate the money to impress her, to arrive in triumph, and God only knew the horrible deeds that soiled his hands. But he’d done it for her, no matter the lie she’d told his father. He still wanted her. And this mincing, prancing bastard who smiled like an imbecile and mouthed off about what an insatiable wanton was Diana Sheridan had had her.
Life wasn’t fair!
With powerful hands, Tanner clamped Farnsworth around the collar
and lifted him bodily from the chair. The man’s feet dangled precariously above the floor and his face turned the same shade as his uniform from his wind being suddenly cut off.
“Nooooo,” was all Farnsworth could utter.
“Ever mention Diana Sheridan to any of your friends again and I’ll seek you out and kill you. Understand?” Tanner shook Farnsworth like a rag doll, so overcome with jealousy that his strength was far superior to the other man’s.
Farnsworth tried to nod but choked. Tanner dropped him into the chair, but Farnsworth tottered and fell onto the stone floor, gasping for breath.
The men who’d been with Farnsworth earlier crowded around at the commotion. All stood dumbly by as Tanner pushed his way to the door. Turning he issued a warning. “And none of you better bandy her name about again or you’ll deal with me. No man speaks about my wife in such a manner and lives.” Then, like a black wind, he disappeared.
~
Diana was asleep when Tanner returned to the townhouse. With her dark hair spilling across the snowy white pillow and the pristine gown with ruffles at her neck, he found it difficult to believe she’d slept with Farnsworth. She looked like an angel in his bed. Yet he knew better than anyone that looks could be deceiving. He’d played enough roles as spy to know that.
Tiredness assailed him, and he undressed by the candle’s glow. Just as he started to slip into bed beside her, he stiffened at the long black object he spotted beneath the chest of drawers. Peering at it, he discovered it was the riding crop, not the serpent he’d originally thought.
How had it gotten under the chest? It was almost as if it were deliberately hidden. His gaze riveted upon Diana, and he knew that she’d placed it there. But why?
He pushed it back where he’d found it, entirely out of sight and then climbed into bed. He settled beside her, aching to hold this wanton witch who’d filled his dreams the last seven years but resisting the urge. Instead he watched her while she slept, familiarizing himself with her profile, the rise and fall of her breathing, counting how many times she sighed or changed position.
Savage Deception (Liberty's Ladies) Page 9