Wendy Soliman

by Duty's Destiny

  Oh what was the use of pretending? She knew why! She remembered the feel of Felix’s experienced hands as he caressed her so tenderly and made her body come alive with desire that afternoon on the dunes. She would never forget the intensity in his eyes as they burned passionately into hers, or his gently spoken, loving words and the softness of his lips. A softness which had become hard and demanding as his passion escalated.

  What a fool she was! She had dared to hope, for a short time, that his admiration for her was sincere. But it was all so obvious now. He’d been alone in Swyre and unusually bereft of female company. From what she’d observed since his return home, that wasn’t a situation he was accustomed to. She’d been there when he’d been in need of a diversion, and temporarily filled that void. There was nothing more to it than that.

  Saskia’s posse of admirers was strolling toward her. Were they looking for her? She smiled, and for once didn’t demur at their outrageously suggestive remarks. One returned to the drawing room to fetch her a glass of champagne, whilst a second was sure she must be cold and begged permission to fetch her shawl. A third requested the privilege of being allowed to hear her play again — in private. He could hardly have made his intentions plainer, but Saskia, far from setting him down as she should, simply batted her emerald eyes at him and agreed to consider the matter.

  “What’s going on?” Saskia didn’t need to turn round to know that it was Felix who’d joined their group.

  “Carstairs, here, is trying to persuade Mrs. Eden to play for him again in private.”

  Felix looked enquiringly at Saskia, a pleasant smile gracing his battered features. She shrugged, turned away from him with a dismissive nod, and asked Lord Carstairs which composers he favoured.

  She turned from one gentleman to another, playing them off against each other as they openly vied for her attention, acutely aware that Felix was frozen rigid with disapproval. Good, let him see how it felt! She didn’t even look in his direction as she accepted Lord Snelling’s arm and agreed to stroll the terrace with him. She walked past Felix as though he was a statue, not once acknowledging his presence. But she was unable to mistake his furious glare, the rigid set to his features, and the unquestionable fact that he was struggling to contain his temper.

  Saskia, having decided that Felix had merely been amusing himself at her expense whilst in Swyre, was surprised to observe that her behaviour had shocked and upset him. She could almost bring herself to believe that he was jealous.

  Almost.

  She thought of Lady Towbridge and tossed her head, a defiant gesture designed to cover the fact that she was already a little ashamed of her behaviour. Saskia felt Felix’s flint-like gaze focused on her retreating back, and retaliated by squaring her shoulders and moving imperceptibly closer to a delighted Lord Snelling. Her petty scheme to bolster her wounded pride by engendering Felix’s jealousy was working better than she could have anticipated, but this realization didn’t bring the elation she’d hoped for; instead it left her feeling inexplicably wretched.

  Chapter Fifteen

  WHEN THE INTERMINABLE EVENING finally dragged to a close, Felix escaped to his chamber, at last able to give full vent to his towering rage. Sensing his master’s mood, Perkins went about his duties, but for once didn’t attempt to regale him with the latest gossip from the servants’ hall. Felix dismissed him, slumped into a chair, and lit a cigar.

  What in the name of Hades had got into Saskia? Where did she learn to act so provocatively? Was everything she’d told him about her past just a fiction, designed to excite his interest? It seemed unlikely.

  He’d seen for himself how scared she was of her father, but dismissed the image of her reaction after her first meeting with him in six years, determined to think the worst of her. Recalling the feel of her trembling body, when he’d held her as she sobbed bitter tears of humiliation against his chest, would remind him of the tender protectiveness her behaviour had aroused in him. At that precise moment he was feeling anything but tender, and could cheerfully throttle her.

  Where had she learned to flirt so expertly, and why did she appear to take pleasure in doing so in front of him? Once or twice, when she had been temporarily alone, he’d observed an expression of genuine anguish on her face, and sensed her deep despondency. She had looked so vulnerable, then, that he’d momentarily forgotten just how angry he was with her. In spite of her performance this evening, Felix knew she wasn’t a natural flirt. She’d been in his father’s house for three days already, mixing with very superior society. She wasn’t used to such opulence, and had been made to feel unwelcome by many of the ladies present.

  For the past three days she had been surrounded by females who were adept at the art of flirtation, and who never wasted an opportunity to hone their talents. Unaccustomed to inactivity, Saskia doubtless wished to alleviate the boredom he knew many ladies complained of at house parties, when they were left to their own devices for hours on end. That being so, perhaps all the attention she’d received from the gentlemen had turned her head? She had been forced into marriage at sixteen and hadn’t experienced anything like this before. She would be less than human if she wasn’t enjoying the experience.

  God’s teeth, this wouldn’t do! He thumped the arm of his chair, forcing himself to acknowledge the terrible truth, aware that he was dredging up pathetic reasons to excuse her behaviour. She was acting like a member of the muslin company, and even some of the other ladies present, hardened flirts all of them, where starting to look at her askance.

  Had she forgotten that he wanted a private conversation with her? It was almost the last thing he’d said to her before she left Weymouth, but although several opportunities had arisen during the long evening for them to escape for half-an-hour unobserved, Saskia failed to take advantage of them.

  The temptation to seek her out now and clear the air was almost overwhelming, but Felix knew he couldn’t risk it. For one thing he doubted that he’d be able to keep his temper in check. It was already at boiling point, and if she started defending those damned popinjays who were following her about like lovesick puppies, then he would be powerless to control his reaction. The very thought of her harbouring feelings for any one of them caused such acute pangs of jealousy as to make him feel physically ill. He also knew that with the house as full as it was, he was unlikely to avoid detection. Besides, however angry he was, being alone with her anywhere near a bed could only end in one possible way. He wanted her with an intensity that he’d long ago forgotten was possible, leaving him in a permanent state of frustration. He shook his head. For that reason alone, he definitely couldn’t risk going in search of her.

  He longed to point out to her that, as a young widow, she would be considered “fair game” by all the gentlemen present. They would assume she was aware of it, and that she was demonstrating by her behaviour that she was not unwilling. Carstairs and Snelling, both disreputable rakes, were competing for her favours, and would interpret her flirtatiousness as encouragement.

  Felix clenched his fists. He was entirely certain she didn’t understand what she was doing, and she had to be warned. But, Carstairs and Snelling aside, Felix reserved the bulk of his concern for Lord Bingham. He was not much older than Saskia herself, was immensely wealthy, and he was in a position to choose a spouse wherever he wished, both his parents being long since dead. Felix half-thought that his mother, forever scheming on behalf of her offspring, had invited him in order that he might have sight of his youngest sister, even before her presentation next year. Bingham was a respectable man who, unlike some of the other gentleman present, was not in possession of tendencies that veered toward debauchery.

  Bingham didn’t appear to show any interest in Felix’s sister, but there could be no question that Saskia intrigued him. Felix had seen him pursuing her with quiet determination: a situation which was driving his mother demented. Had Felix been less involved, he would have found the situation diverting. But his grin was devoid of all humour as he
acknowledged that he was almost more concerned by gentlemen with honourable intentions toward Saskia than by those with a more salacious purpose. Pouring himself a substantial measure of cognac whilst accepting that he must wait for the morrow to talk with Saskia, Felix continued to brood for another two hours.

  The following morning he strolled toward the lake. From his superbly attired appearance, no one could have guessed what a sleepless night he’d endured. His neckcloth was folded in a perfect mathematical, his boots polished to an impossibly high sheen, his breeches clung to him like a second skin, and his green superfine coat was displayed to perfection by his broad shoulders. Josh awaited his arrival for their promised fishing expedition impatiently, and Felix was happy to oblige him, confidently expecting to discover Saskia and Amy lurking nearby, for Saskia was never far from her children’s activities. His mood wasn’t improved when Luc and his father appeared, informing him that all of the ladies had gone into Plymouth to look at the shops.

  In Josh’s ebullient company it was impossible for Felix to brood. Several of the other gentlemen joined in the fishing, and Felix decided that a morning spent in congenial masculine company was just the thing to restore his good humour. By the time he detected the sound of carriage wheels on gravel, announcing the return of the ladies, he was in a much better frame of mind, but more determined than ever to find a way to talk privately with Saskia that afternoon.

  Easier said than done, Felix decided moodily, as luncheon was cleared away and he still hadn’t had a moment alone with her. He observed her as she strolled across the lawns, surrounded by her devotees. She was wearing a new gown of amber Swiss mull, which did little to conceal her charms and much to agitate Felix. He’d asked Clarissa to take her to the local modiste upon arrival at Western Hall, well aware that she had little in her present wardrobe that would pass muster in his father’s house. Felix now regretted his thoughtfulness, since he was supposed to be the only gentleman to enjoy the results.

  The warmth of the sun and post-luncheon lethargy caused general drowsiness amongst the party, and only half-hearted attempts were made at entertainment. Targets had been set up at one end of the lawn, and Felix allowed his temper full rein as he observed Carstairs and Snelling fighting one another for the privilege of showing Saskia the only correct way to draw a bow. Carstairs, damn him, was almost touching her body as he leaned far too closely over her shoulder, placing his hands over hers, as together they pulled the bow taught and released the arrow. He listened, disgusted, to their ringing laughter as the arrow missed its target completely and other gentlemen jostled to take Carstairs’s place.

  Felix was obdurate in his bad humour. He could go into the house and leave Saskia to enjoy her suitors without his brooding presence, or he could remain where he was and suffer. He knew very well that he wouldn’t budge, contenting himself with working his way morosely through a decanter of mead and making dilatory conversation with the gentlemen who were sprawled on the lawn nearby. Even Luc had deserted him, for Clarissa had declared her intention to rest. He knew what that meant, and felt a brief stab of jealousy. Then he sat a little straighter as an idea occurred to him. Clarissa was indefatigable. She never felt the need to rest during the day…unless? Felix smiled for the first time in hours as a different, but still delightful possibility crossed his mind.

  All thoughts of Clarissa’s possible condition left Felix’s head, however, as he noticed Saskia, alone and strolling toward a path that led to the woods — a path that Snelling had taken not five minutes before. God in heaven, surely she hadn’t agreed to meet him in the woods alone? He was on his feet in seconds, caught up with her at the edge of the woods and grasped her elbow in a grip of steel. She swung round, surprised, and looked straight into eyes that had to be reflecting the ungovernable rage coursing through him.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded furiously.

  “I might ask you the same question.” She tossed her head and unsuccessfully attempted to pull her arm free. She gave up the struggle with an imperceptible shrug.

  “Attempting to prevent you from doing anything foolish,” he said coldly.

  “Lord Snelling knows of a badger set on the edge of the woods. He said he would show it to me, kindly thinking it would be of interest to the twins.”

  Felix’s nostrils flared. “And you agreed to go with him? Alone?”

  “Why not?” Her tone was belligerent, but Felix could now detect a note of uncertainly.

  “Saskia, even you can’t be that naïve.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Come with me.” It wasn’t a question and, with his hand still firmly gripping her elbow, he turned her decisively away from the woods and in the direction of the lake.

  “But I wanted to see the badgers. The twins would love them.” Her voice was still indignant still as he dragged her away.

  “And immolate your reputation in the process?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Saskia, did you really imagine that Snelling wanted to show you only badgers?”

  “Yes, of course!”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it, but I’m unsure how he hoped to achieve it.” His tone was scathingly mocking. “Surely you’re aware that badgers are nocturnal?” Saskia glared at him, a mixture of embarrassment and anger reflected in her expression, but said nothing. “I can assure you, m’dear, his mind was on anything but badgers. And even if it were not, did you imagine that your sojourn alone in the woods with a gentleman would go unobserved?”

  “No, well yes, I mean, that is…oh fustian, I know not what I mean! You’re determined to confuse me.”

  “Saskia.” He stopped dragging her along at his previous relentless pace and turned her to face him. “If his intentions were so innocent, why did he go ahead of you instead of escorting you to the woods himself?”

  “He didn’t wish for me to be inconvenienced if they weren’t there. He said he would check, and then wait for me at the edge of the woods if I gave him a five minute head start.” She paused, before slanting a sideways glance at Felix from beneath lowered lashes. “I suppose I have been rather stupid,” she admitted ruefully.

  “Just a little.”

  Felix felt his temper slipping away. It was replaced with a very different emotion. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and recommenced walking, at a more leisurely pace, content now to bide his time. They reached a bench on the far side of the lake, and Felix seated her. As he took his place beside her she reached up and gently traced the line of his bruised face.

  “Are you in a great deal of pain?” she asked with enough tenderness to dissipate the remnants of his anger.

  “Only at the thought of being unable to kiss you in such a public place,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing each finger in turn.

  “But I thought such behaviour would cost me my reputation.”

  She’d meant to tease him back into good humour, he realized when he thought about it later, but the jealous wounds she’d inflicted with her bold behaviour were still raw, and he reacted instinctively, without recourse to proper thought.

  “That depends upon the situation you find yourself in and with whom,” he said. “Snelling has an appalling reputation. There can be no doubt what he intended when he got you alone.”

  Saskia paled. “I had no notion.”

  “I know that, but he doesn’t and, more to the point, nor did any of the people watching you from the lawns. And the house. Your reputation would have been beyond recall if I hadn’t intervened.” He paused, warming to his theme. “And what’s more, you’re not entirely blameless in the matter. You might have acceded to his request in all innocence, but the gentlemen here know you’re a widow, the mother of twins, and supposedly well versed in the ways of the world. In accepting his invitation you were agreeing to a tryst, however unwittingly.”

  “Thank you for your informative discourse, my lord.” Saskia’s tone was frosty. “It’s fortunate that I
have one as experienced in these matters as you are to set me straight.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  He offered her a gentle smile, fully expecting it to be reciprocated. He wasn’t angry with her anymore. How could he be? At last he had her to himself and had already forgiven her for her transgressions. After all, amongst these predatory wolves she was a lamb to the slaughter. So lost in pleasant thoughts about the outcome of their much-postponed conversation was he that it took a moment for Felix to realize that, far from returning his smile, Saskia was glaring at him with open hostility.

  He frowned. “Something wrong, m’dear?”

  “Not a thing,” she said mellifluously. “I was merely reflecting upon the disparities between the sexes.”

  “Were you, now?” Felix’s chuckle hit a wicked note, and he moved a little closer to her, his inexorable need for her overcoming his sense of propriety. They could be clearly seen from the lawns, and therefore couldn’t be faulted, but were also distant enough to prevent anyone from seeing how tightly they were seated. Felix suppressed acute feelings of frustration, as he wondered how much longer a man could be expected to go on in the face of such extreme temptation before surrendering to his passions.

  “Indeed, I was, my lord. How, I was wondering, can a gentleman take whatever liberties with a lady that she will permit, only enhancing his reputation in the process, whilst any lady foolish enough to succumb to a little sincerely expressed flattery is immediately branded as a muslin, or worse.”

  It was only when Felix looked into her face that he realized the lightness of her tone belied a fulminating anger.

  “Saskia, what’s troubling you? What can I do to be of service?”

  “Humph. It’s a little late for that.”

  “Not all gentlemen are so morally lax as to behave in the way you suggest.”

  “Are they not?” Her tone was pleasantly conversational. “How very informative. And you, sir? If you don’t mind my remarking upon it, you seem very well acquainted with many of the ladies present at this party.”