by Cheryl Holt
He raised his foot and delivered a jarring blow, which brought a frantic rustling on the other side.
“Go away,” she hissed.
“No.”
“Don’t you dare bash in my door!”
“Then haul your pretty arse over here and unlock it.”
He kicked again, and she raced over, fumbled with the key, then yanked it wide. She loomed in the threshold, and he laughed at how conservatively she’d covered herself. Obviously, she presumed the clothes—a flannel nightgown, unflattering robe, mobcap, and woolen stockings—would thwart his masculine drives. It was pathetic, how little she knew about male inclinations. If she’d attired herself in a suit of armor, he’d still desire her.
“Be quiet!” she scolded. “You’re causing a big ruckus.”
“Which is all your fault.”
“My fault?”
“Yes.”
“It’s the middle of the night. I’m in my own room, minding my own business, whilst you are storming around in the hall and raving like a lunatic. And it’s my fault?”
“If you’d do as I say, we’d get on so much better.”
“You are mad.”
“Mad about you.”
“Get out of here.”
“No.”
She was in a snit and prepared to deny him entry, so he simply picked her up, set her to the side, and walked in.
“You can’t just . . . just . . .”
“I already have.”
He turned the key, sealing them in, and he slipped it into his jacket, wanting her to comprehend that she couldn’t leave until he decided to let her.
“Give me the key!”
“No.”
“I’m beginning to believe that no is the only word in your vocabulary.”
“If you’d be a tad more cooperative, I wouldn’t have to use it all the time.”
“You are the most obstinate person I’ve ever met.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
He hadn’t been inside her bedchamber since the day he’d arrived, and on that occasion, he’d been too busy to notice any details. He wasn’t certain why he’d delayed in coming again. Every item in the house belonged to him, so he could have ordered an inventory, but for some reason, he’d permitted her a private sanctuary.
Still, he was dying of curiosity, desperate to learn more about her, and he roamed about, handling her possessions, peeking in her dresser drawers, rummaging through her wardrobe.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m snooping. What does it look like?”
“Well, stop it. I won’t have you pawing through my things.”
“Too late.” He reached over and pulled off her cap, and her braid swished down. “There. That’s better.”
“Don’t even think about removing anything else.”
“I’m not about to go to all the trouble of being secluded with you, then have you moping around like a grouchy, old widow.”
“I’m not out to impress you,” she griped.
“Trust me, Helen. I know women. I’m a veritable connoisseur. You try to be invisible, and it just won’t do. I don’t like it.”
“We wouldn’t want you to be unhappy, would we?”
“No, we wouldn’t. Now loosen up. Untie your hair. You’re aware of how I like it.”
He tugged at the ribbon that secured her braid, and it came undone. He riffled through the silky mass, intrigued by how it fanned across her back.
She’d been reduced to speechlessness—praise be!—and she watched him as one would a dangerous beast. She was positive he had an evil intent, which irked him to no end. Why couldn’t she understand that he wouldn’t harm her?
He never had to convince a female to have sex with him—they required no encouragement—so he hadn’t any idea of where to start with such a persuasion. He kept nosing around, studying her meager collection of gowns. She either had the worst taste of any woman alive or didn’t care about her appearance, which couldn’t be right.
He evaluated a pair of stockings that had been mended too often to count, and he was about to comment when she snatched them away. She stuffed them in a drawer and slammed it shut.
“I’ve endured quite enough for one evening,” she complained. “I’m willing to submit to many indignities at your behest, but I don’t have to have you mauling my unmentionables.”
“Really, Helen, you have the most deplorable clothing.”
“I do not.”
“Why must you attire yourself like such a frump? Didn’t your wastrel brother ever give you any cash for necessities?” She was so embarrassed by the question that he was sorry for pressing the issue. “Oh, I see how it was. He spent all his money on himself. What a rat he was to keep you so drab.”
“Quit insulting me. My dresses are fine. My undergarments are fine. I am fine.”
“Don’t worry,” he advised. “I’ll rectify the situation immediately.”
“What do you mean?”
“First, I’ll arrange an allowance.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort.”
“There’ll be no strings attached. You can fritter it away however you like.”
“I won’t take money from you!”
“Then, I’ll send to London for some new outfits. You’ll have them in a few days.”
“I don’t want anything from you! How would I ever explain such gifts?”
“Why would you have to explain?”
“This is a small place, an established neighborhood. People grow bored, they talk about each other, and what they say isn’t always kind.”
“You’re scared of a little gossip?”
“Yes, and I won’t have my relationship with you be the main topic.”
He was never concerned with what others thought. In his position, the more terrible the rumors, the better for his grim reputation, so he couldn’t fathom why she’d fret.
She ought to tell them all to bugger off, that she’d behave as she damn well pleased, but she never would. There were many rules and conventions in her strange society that he deemed absurd, but they were part and parcel of who she was.
“What if I order a few pieces for you to wear when we’re alone?”
“Alone? If you’re supposing we’ll fraternize on a regular basis, you’re insane.”
“I’m not insane. I’m being extremely practical. I’ll buy gowns in my favorite colors, and you can torment me by looking pretty in them.”
She growled in frustration. “You are impossible.”
“So are you saying I should go ahead?”
“No, I’m saying you’re beyond exasperating.”
He took her hand. “Come.”
“Where?”
“I’m about to make love to you, and I want to do it lying down.”
She dug in her feet, trying to halt his forward progress, so he scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She was hanging upside down, her gorgeous bottom next to his ear, which had her angry as a wildcat, and she pounded on his back.
“Put me down!”
He swatted her on the rear. “You’ll wake the dead with all that racket.”
“Put me down!” she repeated. “This instant!”
“Your wish is my command.”
He dropped her onto the bed, and before she could scurry away, he crawled on top of her and pinned her down. She glared at him, her fury and annoyance clearly evident, and he hated that he made her so miserable.
In his company, women were always cheery and eager. They realized that he wouldn’t tolerate a difficult paramour. When there were so many amenable ones available, why would he bother? She was the sole female he’d ever encountered who was unaffected by his advances, and he was seriously irritated that she didn’t feel obsessed with pleasing him.
“What is it you want from me?” She sounded so wretched!
“I told you I’d show up at eleven.”
“And I told you not to.”
“Why wo
uld I listen when you’re being so silly?”
“Has there ever been a woman who didn’t desire you?”
“Not that I can recall.”
“Is that the problem?” she inquired. “You’ve never been refused, so you don’t comprehend what it means when a woman says no?”
“I comprehend; I just don’t care.”
“Ah . . . the truth comes out.”
“I’ve decided we should be lovers. After I’ve made up my mind, the rest is easy.”
“What about what I want?”
“There’s the rub, Helen. What do you want?”
She was candid enough to admit, “I don’t know.”
He’d like to reassure her, but wasn’t certain how. If he could figure out what had her so anxious, seduction would be so much simpler.
He untied the belt on her robe, loosening it, the lapels falling away to reveal her soft, worn nightgown. He laid his hand on her breast, massaging the supple mound, and he grabbed the nipple, pinching it between finger and thumb. She moaned with pleasure and arched up.
“Do you know what I think?” he murmured.
“What?”
“You want me, but you’re afraid.”
“I am not,” she bravely insisted.
“I won’t hurt you.”
“I can’t imagine you’ll do anything else.”
“You’re so wrong.”
“Am I? What if I allow you to proceed? I’m not one of the trollops you fancy so much.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Will you stay afterward? Will you marry me?”
At the notion, his horror must have been apparent, because she chuckled, but sadly. Her gloom was increasing by the second, and he felt like the worst heel ever.
“No, I would never marry you.”
“Well, you see, Luke, in my world, that’s what people do. They behave as they oughtn’t; then they wed. If I continue with you, what will become of me after you leave?”
“I’d never let anything bad happen.”
“But you wouldn’t be around to prevent it.”
He could have lied to her and offered the falsehoods she was desperate to hear, but he was who he was: a gambler and buccaneer, a con artist, a man on the move. He was determined to establish himself, to obtain the wealth and status that had been denied him because his father was a philandering roué. Of course, the despicable Duke had already had a wife when he’d impregnated Mary Lucas, so he couldn’t have married her, but that fact didn’t signify.
Luke was driven. Each time he swindled some rich sod, he felt it was his due, his retribution against the contemptible crowd that had persecuted his mother. He’d never remain at Mansfield Abbey and toil away as a gentleman farmer. He had places to go, vengeance to seek, and Helen would play no part in his future.
“I won’t be here later,” he stated. “But I’m here now. Should we ignore what’s between us? Is that what you’re asking me? Could you have me depart without learning what it might have been like?”
For a lengthy interval she assessed him; then she shook her head. “No, I couldn’t.”
Relieved by the remark, he kissed her, and he felt that it had been an eternity since he’d reveled with her, rather than the better share of a day. His fingers went to her nightgown, opening the front, the tiny buttons a nuisance that tried his patience, that urged him on.
When he had several of them free, he slipped under the fabric, and he cupped her breast, the sensation rocking them both.
She broke away and pulled him close, her beautiful face buried at his nape. “You were right, Luke. I’m so frightened.”
“Tell me why, Helen. Let me ease your fears.”
“I want to be with you so much. It scares me, what I might attempt for you. You won’t be satisfied with less than everything. If I say yes to you, you’ll take all of me. There’ll be naught left.”
He gazed down at her, affection sweeping through him as he forced himself to admit that she needed a different man—a stable and ordinary man—in her bed. She deserved a husband who cherished her, a home, and children to mother, but he wasn’t the person to give her any of those things.
Yet he yearned to be. Deep in his soul, there was a lonely, empty void that had him pining to settle down, to belong, to be important to people who loved him. He’d always been on his own, had had to fend for himself. His survival instincts were strong, and they’d forged him into the stubborn, arrogant creature he’d grown to be, but what would it be like to have someone he could lean on for a change?
What if he dared to select another path? What if he abandoned his wanderlust and built a new kind of life? One with ties and connections. The prospect was so tantalizing that it seemed to be precisely what he’d been searching for without his even recognizing that he was.
For the briefest instant, the fabulous possibility washed over him; then he shooed it away.
She inspired the oddest emotions, had him hungering for a reality that could never be. When he was around her, he had to be careful lest he tender pledges he’d regret later on. He never swore oaths he didn’t intend to keep, never formed attachments he couldn’t bear to sever. Friendships were fleeting, relationships transitory, human beings unreliable, and with that jaded view he never misjudged or made mistakes.
Yet when she peered up at him with those big, hazel eyes that were so filled with fondness and trust, he teetered on the brink of disaster, eager to utter any wild vow merely to see her smile.
“I can’t make you any promises,” he told her.
“I know. I hate that about you.”
“What if I said I’d stay forever?”
“You’d drive me batty within a week.”
“I’m sure I would.” He was surprised at how much the truth hurt. “Would you want me to be different?”
“No. I want you just as you are.”
He sighed, unable to move beyond the impression that he’d relinquished something wonderful, that he’d had bliss within his grasp but had been too stupid to reach out and grab for it.
“What shall we do now?” he inquired, at a loss as to how he should proceed.
“I don’t know what’s best. I can’t answer.”
“Should I go?”
If she ordered him to depart, he wasn’t positive how he’d react. He didn’t think he could oblige her, but why tarry when his presence was so unwanted and so unnecessary?
She saved him. “No. I’d miss you too much.”
“You understand what you’re agreeing to, don’t you?”
“How could I? I’m a spinster, remember? I haven’t the foggiest.”
“I’m a lusty man. I won’t hold back.”
Why was he cautioning her? Was he hoping to dissuade? He was so smitten that after they started in he wouldn’t halt. He felt as if he’d been waiting for this moment all his life, as if every choice had been leading him to this very spot. She’d been astute in deducing that he would take all she had to give and still demand more.
His pathetic conscience, which was dormant and never consulted, was warning him to desist, but the voice was very quiet and easy to ignore.
“Do what you will,” she valiantly acquiesced, and like a martyr about to be sacrificed, she flung her arms to her sides.
He laughed. “It won’t be that bad.”
She laughed, too. “I’m certain it will be splendid.”
“Aye, it will be. And after we’ve tried it a time or two, you’ll enjoy it so much that you won’t be able to resist me. I won’t have to ask; you’ll come begging.”
“Your conceit knows no bounds.”
“I’ve never been humble.”
She grinned; then she sobered. “Will you give me your word on something?”
“If I can.”
She glanced away. “It’s difficult to talk about it.”
“It’s all right, Helen. When we’re together like this, everything is allowed.”
“You’ll tease me.”
; “I won’t.”
“I’m clueless as to what you’re planning—”
“I’ll show you.”
“—but whatever it is, don’t leave me with child. I can’t end up pregnant.”
After witnessing his mother’s tribulations, he could never behave so reprehensibly toward a woman. “I won’t. There are ways we can . . . things we can do that . . .”
“Swear it to me.”
“I swear.”
She studied him, probing for deceit or fabrication, but in this he was—for once—being brutally honest.
“I believe you,” she said, “and I’m ready to begin.”
10
She’d had such grandiose plans.
After fretting for hours, she’d resolved to resist her worst impulses. Instead, she’d hastily abandoned every principle that had ever ruled her life.
When she’d allowed him entry, she’d known what would happen. On some outrageous, decadent level, she’d been hoping to make every bad choice. She hadn’t realized she possessed such a scant amount of self-restraint.
There was no path that could lead them back to the moral road. From this point on, there was only sin and pleasure, and she ought to feel guilty or ashamed, but when she was humming with delight it was difficult to muster any remorse.
For once, she had no intention of behaving. She couldn’t predict how long he’d stay at Mansfield Abbey, but she was sure it would be for a brief period. He wouldn’t forfeit his nomadic, bachelor ways for her, nor would she expect him to. He was a dashing, solitary man who would never change, who would never be a country farmer or a devoted spouse.
He was like a bright, shiny angel who had been dropped from heaven into her gray universe, who’d been sent to make her happy, and she wouldn’t reject the opportunity for an adventure.
I’ll pretend it’s my wedding night, she thought. I’ll pretend he’s my beloved husband, who has selected me above all others.
After she met him, it was clear that she would never have a real wedding night, so she would create this false one as a substitute. The memory would sustain her in the weeks and months after his departure.
He sat up and tugged off his shirt. “I’m going to remove my clothes. And yours, too.”