***
Two days later found Michael sitting at a secluded table in his club. Wordlessly, Rafe Kingsford joined him, taking the seat opposite him. Michael met that other man's gaze with his own glacial, gray stare. “Tell Lord Ambrose I'll do it.”
Chapter Eight
“Have you seen Sarah this evening?” Katherine asked as her eyes swept the ballroom for any sign of their friend.
“No, I haven't,” Araby replied, more than a little distracted by her own search for either one of the Lassiter brothers. She'd expected to have Michael pounding on her door within hours of her dreadful visit from Drew, but three days had elapsed and she'd yet to see, or hear from either brother. It was just as well. Perhaps Drew had decided not to confront Michael and the entire ugly incident could be forgotten. Since the scene with Drew Araby had faced several unpleasant truths. Despite her stepfather’s threats she was still responsible for her own conduct and though she may have suffered bouts of conscience from time to time, on the whole she was an unpleasant person who savored using the power of her social position in any way she liked. After wounding Drew so terribly, she’d vowed to do better in life, to make something better of herself. There were so many pages she would rewrite given the opportunity to go back and make different choices.
“I'm worried. Something isn't quite right with her,” Katherine continued.
“With who?”
Katherine made an impatient sound. “Sarah. Honestly, Araby, you've been distracted for weeks. I would have thought your engagement would have eased your mind enough to let you see past the end of your own nose. Sarah may be in serious trouble.”
Araby quickly gave Katherine her full attention. “What's happened?”
“More like who. Rafe Kingsford has been making an absolute pest of himself to Sarah. He claims dances that aren't his to claim. He shows up during her outings and insists on accompanying her and yesterday he frightened off Percy Potter in the middle of Hyde Park and took Sarah home himself. He's trying to ruin her.”
“Have you addressed this with Sarah?” She'd expected nothing more alarming than Sarah's making an unfortunate selection at the modiste's. Now she shared her friend's alarm.
“Yes, but you know Sarah. She says I'm making too much out of it. She still feels guilty for punching him that day at Delafield Park.” Katherine turned and frowned at her friend. “There's more. Normally, a man like Rafe Kingsford is at best ignored by gentlemen of good society, but if he were to repeatedly ruin a gentleman's courting he would be dealt with rather swiftly, no matter how fierce his reputation. It's almost as though these gentlemen are willing to step aside for him, as if they're waiting to see what happens.”
“Do you think they're waiting to see if Sarah plants him another facer?”
Katherine considered the idea for a moment. “No. I'm worried that she may have found herself the subject of a wager. While our consequence, particularly mine, is imposing enough to prevent our names from being bandied about in the clubs, Sarah's, unfortunately is not.”
“We have to do something,” Araby murmured.
“I intend to as soon as I can find her. Rafe Kingsford would relish destroying Sarah, but he'll have to get through me to do it.” She glanced around the ballroom. “Where has your viscount gotten himself off to, by the way?”
“Leo is in the card room. He'll be back before the supper dance. Actually, I’ve been looking for Andrew Lassiter.”
“For Heaven's sake, why? Not that you're likely to find him.”
“What do you mean? Why wouldn't he attend tonight?” Araby asked, an uncomfortable chill worked its way up her spine and settled at the back of her neck.
Katherine lifted her fan in front of her face and leaned towards her. “You must not have heard. Young Andrew purchased himself a commission in the cavalry. He left to join his regiment yesterday. I understand his mother has taken to her bed. It's the best thing for him, if you ask me, getting away from that woman's leading strings. Of course, his brother was none too pleased. I can't imagine what the earl will say when he returns home.”
The room closed in on her and Araby feared she would faint. He couldn't have done such a foolhardy thing. What could he have been thinking? There was a war going on. In one awful instance she knew exactly why he'd joined the cavalry.‘I'm not dashing, not exciting enough, am I?’ Oh, God, what had she done? Michael would hate her, absolutely despise her for this and she didn't blame him a bit. If anything happened to Drew in the Crimea it was her fault.
“What's the matter? You're pale as a ghost.”
Araby looked up to find her friend studying her with concern. “Oh, Katherine, I've done something horrible.”
Katherine grabbed her arm. “If it involves Andrew Lassiter, then brace yourself, because his brother is heading this way.”
There was no where for her to go without him following her. She knew that and so reason and her sense of survival dictated she remain in place. She was still struggling to find the words to say to him when he appeared in front of her.
“Lady Arabella, would you care to take a turn around the room?” Everything about him bespoke curtesy. He bowed slightly and extended his hand, smiling a little sadly when she hesitated.
“Araby,” Katherine began, but whatever she'd been about to say stopped abruptly at the appearance of a rather tall, broad-shouldered gentleman by her other side. Araby had never seen the man before and while he was handsome enough, there was something ungoverned about him, something raw, almost as though any moment he would give in to an impulse to wrench off his evening attire and reveal the much coarser man beneath it. No, he was not a man familiar with ballrooms and society and she wondered at his identity.
“Please,” Michael said softly, drawing her attention back to him. “We must talk.” Araby nodded and placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her away.
***
“This is our dance Lady Katherine,” said the brute in front of her. Katherine looked down at his hands as he clenched and unclenched them at his side. They were strong, capable hands she supposed, probably used to performing hour upon hour of manual labor. They looked constrained and uncomfortable in the white evening gloves he wore. Her uncle had introduced them earlier in the evening and had made her surrender one of her coveted waltzes to him. The man stared hard at her as though he were imagining what her undergarments looked like. His eyes were a light, greenish, blue color similar to turquoise – singular, much like the man himself. Katherine, used to deflecting the interest of much more sophisticated men, swallowed a little nervously.
“Yes, Mr. er...”
“Rutledge. Jonas Rutledge,” he supplied. His tone was firm as though he'd just commanded her to never forget his name again. Katherine inclined her head and placed her hand on his arm. She felt a sudden rush of energy throughout her body as he took possession of her hand, for there could be no other way to describe his hold. He didn't smile at her. He offered no compliments, or small talk and for the first time since her coming out, Katherine Saunders felt completely out of her depth.
***
“Katherine told me about Drew,” Araby began in a rush. “Michael, I'm so sorry.”
“Yes, it was a rather unforeseen turn in events,” he replied.
“I wanted to tell you...to explain....”
He gave her a gentle, reassuring smile. “It's all right, love, I understand. Drew wouldn't listen to reason. In the end I don't think there was anything either of us could have said to change his mind.”
Araby sighed, suddenly more weary than she'd ever been in her life. “ I never meant for any of this to happen, truly I didn't.”
“Hush,” he said soothingly. “Neither did I, but sometimes fate intervenes and creates an opportunity you’d never dared imagine, never....” He paused and turned towards her, a soft, half-smile on his face and a tender expression in his eyes. Araby caught her breath. Michael Lassiter could mesmerize a woman with a singular look, make her long to follow w
herever he chose to lead and now he gestured towards the door at the back of the Malberry's ballroom. Araby glanced over her shoulder. It was a risk leaving with him. If word reached Iredale...but she owed Michael the chance to speak, she told herself. She could handle her fiance´ should a complication arise. She studied the man in front of her for a moment gauging his intent. Part of her urged caution and common sense, but the rest of her demanded she take the risk and go with him to hear what he had to say. If the emotion she read in his face truly indicated what he wished to tell her, then perhaps she'd been too hasty in accepting Iredale's proposal after all.
Her heart beat faster. He had every right to be furious with her, but there was no angry in his voice, his bearing and none hidden deep in his eyes where she’d seen it lurking on other occasions. She was an expert at determining danger from a man and Michael didn’t display any of the troubling signs. Perhaps Drew had remained silent about their argument. It didn’t matter, though. She’d promised to be a better person and that meant telling Michael exactly what she’d said to his brother that afternoon. Just then he looked down at her, his eyes soft and warm as though he might want to look at her like that forever.Please God, she begged,please let me be right. I’ll never ask You for another thing for myself if You’ll just let me have a life with this man.
Michael ushered her gently towards the door. He moved slowly, steadily, irrevocably – coaxing her, but still letting the final decision be hers. Holding a sharp intake of breath, she moved with him through the doorway. The corridor stood empty before them and once they'd reached a discrete distance from the ballroom, he stopped and brought her hand to his lips, placing a brief kiss on the tips of her fingers. His gaze caressed her face, tender and lingering.
“Ah, Araby. When I met you I wanted so badly to dislike you. I wanted to see nothing good about you, but then, the more time I spent with you I began to see you differently, to feel differently about you.”
“Michael, I....”
He glanced back towards the ballroom and then drew her farther down the hallway. “Come dearest. Not here.” A sparkle came into his eyes and she knew what that look meant. She bit her lip nervously as she looked back towards the ballroom. Being alone with any man who wasn’t her fiance´was reckless, but to go off with Michael was downright dangerous.
He sensed her hesitation and gave her a look filled with chagrin. “I don’t blame you for being cautious. I should have spoken to you long before this, but for both our sakes I chose to say goodbye instead. I was a fool. There's so much I must to say to you, darling, but we need privacy for this sort of conversion.” Her breath caught in her throat. He grinned at her, then caught her hand to pull her along after him. She followed him without another thought.
This was happening – really happening. Araby giggled as she attempted to keep herself from tripping over her gown. Everything was going to be fine. He loved her. She knew it, and once they'd married she would be safe, truly and finally safe. Her stepfather would be no match for a man like Michael. The brute could never hurt her or her mother again. They would find Drew and bring him home together. Everything would be wonderful and her heart sang as they hurried down the hall.
***
Michael pulled her into a study, releasing her hand as he turned to close the door. She was laughing, breathless and absolutely stunning. He took a moment to compose his features before he turned around to continue the charade, carefully pretending to lock the door and pocketing the key as he'd done once before – before her schemes had ruined his brother's future and driven him away from his family. He clenched his jaw as his fury fought its way to the surface. He would master his emotions for tonight’s work. He would.
“Michael?” Her voice brought him back to the task at hand. He forced a smile and turned back to her, an ardent look in his eyes. The witch was so vain she believed he’d fallen in love with her and that he was so smitten with her he could ignore how she'd tormented a naive boy and driven him to prove himself in one of the most dangerous ways imaginable. She naively believed he could let the memory of a few elicit kisses make him overlook how she had destroyed his relationship with his own brother. Maybe another man, a kinder man who hadn't learned this particular lesson long ago might have excused her actions, blamed her youth, but Michael hadn't been kind in a very long time.
Once, long ago he'd betrayed one of his best friends over a woman and damned if this little piece hadn't set him up to do it again. This time it was his own brother who'd paid the price. His stomach twisted as he remembered Drew's face when he'd confronted Michael for stealing Araby from him. He looked at the girl in front of him and saw Revati, her eyes filled with tears as she'd told his partner, Aaron how Michael, had forced himself on her. He remembered months later seeing the disease ravaged body of his friend, his pitiful, claw-like hands reaching out, pleading with the hallucination of a woman who had destroyed him merely for sport. Now this girl standing before him, her eyes shining, her cheeks flushed with excitement dared to play her games with the life of his brother. He couldn't save Drew anymore than he could save Aaron, but he could claim some retribution for both of their sakes.
“I want to make certain we're not disturbed,” he said smoothly, patting his pocket where he'd placed the key.
She stepped towards him, her hands clasped in front of her generous breasts as if in supplication. It would do her no good. He would not be moved by her lies again. “Michael I must speak to you about Drew. I never meant to tell him about, well, us.” Her cheeks flushed prettily. She really was quite good in her role of budding seductress. “He came to see me, you see, and he told me that you'd....”
Time grew short. Besides, if she continued to talk about Drew he'd start screaming at her, or worse. He only had so much self-control, so he cut her off. “We can talk about my brother another time,” he murmured, catching her by the shoulders and sweeping he into his arms. “Right now I want to speak of the future, not the past. The young fool did us a favor by getting out of our way.”
“Drew isn't a fool,” she began, frowning in confusion, but Michael silenced her with a kiss. Within seconds she melted against him, her defense of Drew forgotten.
“Ever since the night we first danced I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. It's not simply your face, Araby, though God knows you’re a beautiful woman. It's your spirit, your wit – the way you seize life with so much joy.” He realized he spoke the truth to her in that moment and it made him angrier than ever. He grabbed her by the upper arms and pulled more firmly against him. “Damn it, I don't want you to marry that prig Iredale. You belong to me.” He brought his mouth down on hers, pouring all the passion he could into her – feigned or not. She opened her mouth to him and made that soft, small sound of hers that told him she took pleasure in his kiss. His cock stiffened at the sound. He eased his tongue into her mouth, releasing a groan of his own as she sucked lightly on it and then darted her own tongue to meet his. Michael pressed harder against her, momentarily lost in the sensation of her eagerness and her very real passion.
He cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. She groaned his name and Michael wedged his knee between her legs. He wanted to take her down on the floor and toss up her skirts. He wanted to make her to beg for him before he rammed himself into her. His hands reached around her back and deftly unhooked the top two hooks of her gown. He slid his hands into the bodice and worked the neckline down until he exposed her corset cover. With an expertise born from years of experience he popped her breasts free of their silken prison. He moaned as he took one perfect, ruby tip into his mouth. She was exquisite, divine.
Araby whimpered as she twisted her fingers in his hair, compelling him to continue laving her breasts – first one then the other. He needed no inducement. He wanted her in spite of everything, damn her. He wanted her legs wrapped around his waist bucking against him as he plunged in and out of her. Oh, yes, he wanted her and he hated her for that most of all. She ga
ve a sweet sob of frustration as she tried to straddle his leg. He drew her skirts upwards.
“You're so lovely, so perfect, my sweet little belle,” Michael kissed her neck.
“Please, Michael, I don't know what's happening to me. I don't...I can't...I.”
This mouth swept back to claim hers. “Hush, sweeting. Trust me. I know what you need. Give yourself over to me.”
She pulled back from him abruptly, an age old question in her eyes. “Do you love me, Michael?” her eyes shimmered with emotion and damn her, damn her, it looked like hope. “I would give you anything, everything if I knew you loved me.”
He felt as if he'd been tossed into an icy river. He wanted to mount her, claim her as his own, and that had never been his plan. He couldn't risk the consequences of completely deflowering her though he wanted to so very badly. God forbid he get her with child. Michael leaned his forehead against hers, gasping for breath and searching for some of his notorious control. “Yes,” he rasped, “yes, I love you.” Then he spoke the most damning lie of all, telling himself she deserved it. “I want to marry you Araby. I won't let Iredale have you.”
She cried out and launched herself against him clinging to him as she sobbed his name. “I love you too Michael. I love you so much. You don't know what you mean to me. I'd never dared hope you could feel the same.” She pulled back from him and the tears flowing down her face almost made him stop – almost made him believe her. Almost.
A Terrible Beauty (Season of the Furies Book 1) Page 13