As he had known she would, Arabella rose to the bait. "I expect," she said through gritted teeth, her fingers tightly clasping the portfolio she held in her lap, "you to return his vowels to me."
Tony sat down in a matching chair across from her, his long breeches-clad legs stretched out in front of him. His black boots rested not two inches from the flounced hem of her yellow gown.
With an effort Arabella resisted the urge to jerk her feet away as one would from a flame that had burned too near. She suddenly felt too warm, and wondered again if confronting him had been her wisest course. And again she reminded herself it had been the only course.
"Just like that?" Tony asked idly, once he was comfortable. "You just expect me to turn over the vowels?"
"Yes, yes I do." She hesitated. Nobility had never mattered to Tony, but she had to try. The family was dependent upon her. "It would be the noble thing to do."
Tony snorted. "And when, my dear little Elf, have you known me to do the noble thing?" His gaze hardened. "In fact, I think that it was my lack of nobility that caused you to end our betrothal, was it not?"
"I do not want to talk about that!" Arabella snapped. "Our history has nothing to do with this."
"Oh, I beg to differ with you, my sweet. I think it does. I doubt very much that you approached Leyton and simply demanded the vowels back from him. Only to me would you dare such a thing."
Arabella flushed. "You're right. I didn't. I offered him a trade, and, naturally, I am willing to make the same trade with you."
Tony looked interested. "And? This trade is?"
"Greenleigh and my other lands for Jeremy's vowels."
"Just what the devil has that young fool brother of yours been up to?" Tony demanded with a frown, aware that she had just offered him everything she owned. "Does your esteemed father know what you are up to? What his son and heir has been doing?"
Arabella felt her eyes sting and she looked down at her hands. "My father is dead. He d-d-died two years ago."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Tony said quietly, his face softening. He resisted an urge to touch her. "I know that you were very close. You must miss him a great deal."
Arabella looked away. "Yes. It has been difficult for us."
Something occurred to him, and, rising to his feet, he leafed through the papers on the table. Finding what he was looking for, he whistled under his breath when he realized the enormity of Arabella's plight. No wonder she had come to him. That damn silly brother of hers had lost Highview! He glanced through the vowels again. And nearly all of the Montgomery fortune, if he remembered correctly.
Impetuously, he swung around, his first instinct simply to hand her the vowels that she so obviously wanted. His mouth twisted. And she had to want them most desperately if her need has brought her to me, he thought cynically.
But before he could act, Arabella straightened in her chair, and, opening the portfolio, said briskly, "I know that Greenleigh cannot compare to Highview, but I am willing to trade you for Jeremy's vowels." As his expression darkened, she added gamely, "It w-w-will not be an even trade, but it will a-a-at least give you some recompense." Her eyes unknowingly pleading, she held out a sheaf of folded papers with a hand that shook slightly.
Tony was furious. Did she really believe that he was such a villain that he would allow her to beggar herself to save her family? Well, why not? he reminded himself viciously. Hadn't she refused to marry him five years ago because she believed him the blackest villain alive?
"Put your bloody deeds away," he said savagely. "I don't want them—and I damn well won't take them."
Already shaken and distressed, his words flicked her on the raw, and before she could stop herself, she burst out bitterly, "I should have known you would act this way! You never cared who you hurt as long as you got what you wanted. I can see that you haven't changed." She flashed him a contemptuous glance. "Will it pleasure you to see us thrown out of Highview? Will you come and oversee our removal from our home yourself. Or will you send one of your minions to do the task?" She made a sound, more sob than laugh. "Or will you make another wager with your friend Blackburne? Betting on how long it will take us to leave?"
Tony's face went white. He snarled something under his breath and, his eyes glittering dangerously, strode up to her. Catching her shoulders he roughly shook her. "You dare," he said thickly, "you dare say that to me?"
Stonily she met his fierce gaze. "Why not? Wagering seems to give you great pleasure. Especially wagers that bring others personal pain."
His nostrils flaring, he took a deep breath and removed his hands from her. Glancing at her with open dislike, he growled, "Despite my many sins, and I will not deny that there are many, do you know that I have never laid hands on a woman in anger before in my life? And considering the provocation, you are damned lucky I did no more than shake you."
"Very well, I will consider myself lucky," she said stiffly, conscious of the shameful pleasure that had knifed through her at his touch. Conscious, too, of the heat and vitality radiating from his big body as he remained standing in front of her. He was wearing a white-linen shirt, carelessly opened at the throat, and the sight of that strong brown throat, a throat she had once pressed wild, hungry kisses upon, and the well-remembered scent of his body was almost more than she could bear.
Tony was assailed with memories as potent as hers, and he ached for all that he had lost through his own foolishness. She would never forgive him, and he doubted that his own considerable pride would ever allow him to ask for forgiveness. After all, he had made that damned wager with Blackburne.
Fearful that she would give way to the powerful emotions that clawed through her, Arabella took several steps away from him. Turning her back, she asked painfully, "How soon do you wish us to vacate Highview?" She swallowed back a sob. "It w-w-will take my stepmother several d-d-days to pack."
Tony's hands clenched into fists. He took a steadying breath. "I never said that you had to leave Highview," he muttered, his thoughts racing.
Her eyes wide, hope brimming in their golden brown depths, she swung around to look at him. "You'll make the trade?" she asked breathlessly.
Tony bit back a curse, on the verge of grabbing the vowels and thrusting them into her hands, when a decidedly reprehensible idea flitted through his mind. But, if he were to propose it, reprehensible or not, it would give him something he desperately, passionately wanted. The thing he wanted most in the world. Arabella in his arms once more.
Assessingly he eyed her, a painful ache in the region of his heart. Was he really that base? he wondered. To use her unfortunate circumstances for his own needs? And if he did not, if he simply handed her the vowels, she would thank him and then be gone again. Out of his life once more. Oh, she might think kindly of him for the moment; no doubt she would even feel gratitude. But gratitude was the last thing he had ever wanted from Arabella Montgomery.
As Arabella waited expectantly, her lovely eyes fixed on his, Tony considered his next move. She already thought him a most-despicable creature, and if he made the outrageous proposal, it would only confirm her worst opinion of him. So what, he asked himself harshly, did he have to lose?
Recklessly, not giving himself time to think, he said, "I am willing to make a trade."
A blinding smile lit Arabella's expressive features. "Greenleigh for Highview?"
Tony shook his head. "I said a trade, not that trade."
Puzzled, her smile faded. "Then what? I have nothing else of value."
A sensual spark lit his blue eyes. "Ah, Elf, you are wrong there. You do have something of great value to offer me—your own sweet self."
Arabella looked blank. "W-w-what? You want to m-m-marry me?"
Tony's lips curled. If he thought he could really blackmail her into marrying him he would, but he doubted that she would tie herself to him for the rest of her life, even to save her family. No. She'd not marry him. But she might be willing to put herself in his hands for a specific period o
f time. And though he knew it was base and dishonorable, he was willing to risk it. For a little while at least, she would be his.
But he was curious and he asked, "Would you marry me? For Jeremy's vowels?"
Arabella gaped at him, hardly daring to believe what he was proposing. Could she marry him? Live the rest of her life as his wife? The memory of the pain and humiliation of their last meeting came rushing back, and she put out a hand as if warding off a terrible fate. No, she could never face that sort of anguish for the remainder of her life. "Do not ask that of me," she whispered. "I could not bear it."
Harshly, Tony said, "You have nothing to worry about; marriage between us is out of the question. We trod that path once before, and it brought us both misery. No, what I am proposing is a far different arrangement this time."
Arabella paled, her skin starkly white against the flaming red of her hair, her eyes dark with shock. His meaning was clear, and she could not believe that even Tony could stoop so low.
But apparently he could, for he closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. Brushing his warm, knowing mouth against hers, he murmured, "My mistress. Become my mistress, and the vowels need never be called in."
Chapter 4
Held firmly in Tony's strong embrace, his warm lips sliding lazily against hers, the taste and scent of him making her dizzy with remembered passion, for one dangerous moment Arabella forgot the past. Mindlessly, she let him kiss her as he willed, her mouth soft and sweet under his. The portfolio dropped forgotten to the floor and she flung her arms wildly around his neck.
Tony made a muffled sound when her arms enclosed him, and his embrace tightened. He teased them both by his restraint, his mouth moving seductively across hers, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. Arabella sighed, filled with longing. It was only when she caught herself desperately clutching his dark head that reality exploded in her brain.
As if bitten by a copperhead, she leaped out of his arms. Cheeks flushed, her straw hat askew, she glared at him. "Why you devious, ass-eared, underhanded beast! How dare you!" she exclaimed furiously.
Feeling oddly pleased with himself, Tony propped his hips against the mahogany table. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said mockingly, "Oh, come now, Elf, you can do better than that! I seem to recall that the last time you called me names, it was something to the effect that I was a 'lying, scheming, despicable, black-hearted, pigheaded beast.'"
Instantly recovering herself, Arabella lowered her eyes, and said demurely, "You are mistaken. I did not call you a beast that time. I called you 'a lying, scheming, despicable, black-hearted, pigheaded, dung-cock'. "
Tony suppressed a laugh. Blue eyes gleaming, he replied, "Do you know, I think you are right. It was dung-cock—that lamentable memory of mine."
Arabella looked at him. "I do not think that there is a thing wrong with your memory."
Tony nodded, his expression unreadable. "I remember everything about you," he said softly.
"If you do," she said sharply, "then you must recall that I loathe you. And I am sure that you would not enjoy a mistress who shudders with revulsion at your very touch."
Tony's brow rose. "Did you shudder just now, my sweet? I don't seem to remember that particular reaction from you."
Arabella gritted her teeth. "You caught me by surprise."
"Ah, and so, if I gave you fair warning that I was going to take you in my arms again and kiss you as I just did, you would—er—'shudder with revulsion'?" He smiled cheerfully at her. "Shall we try it and see?"
As he started forward, Arabella cried, "Stay where you are! Don't touch me!"
Tony sank back into his original position, looking extremely satisfied with himself. "Well, that is an experiment we shall have to try soon, but not right now. Right now we have a proposal in front of us." He reached around and picked up Jeremy's vowels. "I put these in my safe where they stay until... oh, shall we say, until I grow tired of your shudders?"
"You are undoubtedly the blackest, the vilest—!"
"Dung-cock?" Tony supplied helpfully.
"Worse!"
"That may be true, sweet, but you still haven't given me an answer."
Indecisively she stared at him.
"You're very sure that you won't just take Greenleigh in exchange for Jeremy's vowels?" she asked.
Tony shook his head, his blue eyes locked on hers. "No. I don't want Greenleigh. I want you."
"As your mistress," she said tightly.
He nodded. "As my mistress." Softly he added, "Since our liaison would be secret, as I am sure you would demand, you have no fear of your reputation—only the two of us would know of our intimate relationship. My intention is not to ruin you, or create more scandal." He smiled grimly. "You can continue to disdain and loathe me in public to your heart's content... provided in private you are in my arms."
Arabella could not meet his gaze. She was so angry and yes, she would admit, hurt by his suggestion, that she wanted to do nothing more than slap his arrogant face and storm out of the room. But that was not the only emotion which churned in her breast. She was also unwillingly intrigued by the suggestion. He wanted her... as his mistress.
Turning away from him, she stared out the window. She didn't know what she wanted to do at that moment, but she was certain that she did not want to walk away from Tony Daggett, beast that he was. Glancing back at him, she asked, "May I have time to consider your, um, offer?"
"No," he said bluntly, his indigo blue eyes unfathomable. He was not going to give her time to consider all the implications of his offer. And he certainly didn't want to give her enough time for that clever little mind of hers to consider the possibility that he might be bluffing. At the moment, he had her trapped and convinced that he would toss her family out of its home, and he was going to take full advantage of the situation.
Arabella showed him her back, thinking hard. Becoming Tony's mistress, she admitted reluctantly, did have some merit to it.
It was a shocking thought, but Arabella was not shocked. She was, in fact, fascinated by the idea. A mistress had so much more freedom than a wife. As Tony's wife, she would have belonged to him as much as any of his possessions. Her lands and fortune would have become his; he could do as he willed with them, and her. But as his mistress...
She realized that she was already halfway to agreeing to his disgraceful bargain. If Tony hadn't stated that their relationship would be private, her decision would have been much more difficult to make. Could she trust him to keep his word?
She had trusted him once, and look where it had got her. But in this instance, it would be as much to his advantage to keep their relationship a secret as it was to hers. He might turn an indifferent shoulder to most scandal, but one of this magnitude would turn even his most loyal friends against him. Why, she thought acidly, he might even be forced to marry her. And he wouldn't want that. So, yes, she trusted him to keep her name pure and unsullied.
Thoughtfully she tapped a finger against her lips. She and Tony both agreed that marriage to each other was not for them. She was not a silly young maid. She was thirty-two years old, and she had already given this man her virginity. It was unlikely that she would ever marry, so there was not the problem of offering a husband soiled goods.
As Tony's secret mistress, she would, she supposed, continue to live her life just as she did now. Her money and plantations would still be hers. To the world and her family, she would still be Miss Arabella Montgomery of Highview. But there would also be secret times that she would share Tony's bed, times that they would meet privately, and he would show her again the pleasures to be had between a man and a woman. A funny little knot clenched low in her belly, and she was aware of a sudden heat between her thighs.
She was, she decided, quite wanton—and probably wicked in the bargain. But wicked or not, she rather thought that she would enjoy being Tony's mistress. And of course, she reminded herself wryly, she could always soothe her conscience by telling herself t
hat she had sacrificed herself for the family.
Straightening her shoulders, she swung around to face him. "Very well," she said, "I shall become your mistress."
A crooked smile on his lips, he murmured, "A wise decision, Elf." His eyes darkened. "One that I will take great pains to make certain you find pleasure in."
Pushing away from the table, his intention obvious, Tony walked toward her.
Suddenly nervous about what she had let herself in for, Arabella took a step backward, and asked uneasily, "Oh, do we have to, um, start right now?"
Tony grinned. "I was merely going to kiss you to seal our bargain—not toss you on the floor and make love to you." His gaze ran appreciatively over her neat little form. "Although," he murmured, "that isn't such a bad idea."
"Oh, please wait!" Arabella protested, discovering that she wasn't quite as blasé and brazen as she had thought. "I have agreed to become your mistress; isn't that enough for you for one day?" Her eyes darting around the room, she muttered, "Shouldn't we discuss the terms or conditions of the, ah, trade, first?"
"There is only one condition—you, in my bed," Tony answered bluntly.
"But you said you would keep my reputation safe!" Arabella protested. "You said I could trust you! I mean, I
can't—! There is my family to consider." Her hands tightened into fists. "I'll not face another scandal because of you."
Tony was willing to be generous. It was obvious that she was having second thoughts, and he didn't want to frighten her into changing her mind—and he had promised to keep her reputation safe.
Taking her arm, he led her back to her chair. Sitting in the chair across from her, he said amiably, "I agreed to keep our arrangement secret, and I shall. To avoid scandal and gossip we shall have to be discreet."
Arabella nodded, "Very discreet," she breathed fervently, thinking of her stepmother and the children.
While he had maintained mistresses in the past, this was an entirely new situation for Tony. Previously, he had simply set up a nice little house in a pleasant part of town, installed his current high-flyer, and paid her visits whenever the mood struck him. Or, when his mistress had been someone of his own class, she had been a sophisticated married woman or widow, who had known what she was about. Arabella was none of those. If their liaison became known, it would ruin her. She needed, he thought with a flash of protectiveness, shielding. Above all, her reputation must be safeguarded.
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