by Robyn Carr
The old keep, built by some Norman warlord centuries before, had not been lived in for over two hundred years. Chappington Hall was constructed by a Ridgley ancestor during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and much of the ironwork and stone from the original keep was used on the new structure. The keep could be reached in a short ride, and though bereft of doors, windows, and safe stairs, it was used for storage and occasionally as a winter shelter for the village stock. And it was far out of sight of the Chappington road.
“It was in here,” he said as they dismounted and tethered their horses. “I imagine this was once the common room. We built a fire, had pallets laid out and had rummaged around long enough to even find old, abandoned cookware to use on our fire. Did you play in here as a child?” he asked in a bright and carefree tone.
“We were told it was unsafe for all children and risked a beating if we used it as a playhouse.”
“And so it is unsafe for children,” he said. “But we are not children.”
“Andrew,” she warned, backing away.
“Will you not kiss me? Not once?”
“No. I will not. Now stop; you frighten me.”
“There is no cause for you to be frightened, Vieve. I mean you no harm; I love you.”
“We agreed...we are to be friends...”
“I cannot endure friendship with you when I am cursed with this painful hunger. I want you!” He grabbed her suddenly, crushing her lips with his, his hand covering her breast in a quick and rough caress. She pushed against him frantically, but he held on fiercely. She resisted his kiss, turning her lips away from his. He released her suddenly and she stumbled away from him.
The true nature of his character came back to her instantly, but the shock of his intentional, methodical deception would be a long time in settling. “You...you lied to me,” she accused, her cheeks hot with rage. “You brought me here on purpose. You pretended to be sorry, to want my friendship. I never should have let myself be fooled by you.”
There was a cruel gleam in his eyes. “It is time you realized that you are my betrothed—soon to be my wife.”
“I am not,” she screamed. “You dare too much.”
He seized her arm and held her so tightly against his chest that she could only gasp for breath. Her hat fell away and quick movements were impossible because of the heavy, restraining folds of her velvet skirt.
“I am through playing games with you, Vieve. You accepted me once and you will again. You may struggle if you like, but the decision has been made.”
“Release me at once, Andrew.”
He smiled at her rage, and she began to tremble from genuine fear. His hand locked into the fabric of her riding habit, and with a quick motion, he rent the cloth to expose her breast. She gasped in stunned disbelief.
“Andrew,” she said beseechingly. “Do I mean so little to you that you would do something to hurt me?”
“Hurt you?” he said in a fury. “Have you had any regard for the way you’ve hurt me? No, my vixen, you have given little thought to your promises, your sworn intention. You prance around me and speak of friendship when a mere four months ago you were destined to this very place to sacrifice your maidenhood for love.”
This very place? The words rang in her mind as she shook her head in confusion. She had been a fool. He lured her here not once, but twice, to claim her body, while he had sworn other motives both times.
“Do you really believe that my father will bless your rape?” she asked him.
“His blessing no longer matters, wench. You may say what you please about me; Lord Ridgley must see you properly wed once you are defiled. We will finally have this my way. You have held yourself as some grand prize for long enough.”
“No!” she screamed, but the sound was muffled by his mouth as he covered hers. She fought in earnest then, kicking, scratching, and writhing with all of her strength, managing to throw them both off balance. Her struggle only aided him, though, as he landed atop her on the ground. Still, she would have some proud bruises to display when her father heard of her low virtue, for she refused to give in to his demented plan.
Her knee found a tender target and he grunted in pain, but wrath only made his attack more violent. He managed to pin her hands over her head and raise her dress with his other hand. She felt his hand on her thigh, and she screamed at the top of her lungs.
He did not even attempt to quiet her. Instead she was aware that he fumbled to unfasten his trousers.
Suddenly, he was lifted from her so abruptly that her scream was cut short. Tyson Gervais held him by his collar and the seat of his pants and flung him so far across the room that he might have been a bale of hay rather than a good-sized man.
Andrew hit the floor with a thump, coming to rest a good ten paces from where Vieve lay. He groaned in pain, shook his head as if to clear the image, and then with a snarl of outrage was on his feet, charging toward Tyson.
Tyson did not even brace himself for the attack. He merely extended a fist into Andrew’s jaw and sent him sprawling once more into the dust. Vieve could see the network of muscles under Tyson’s jacket as he took two large steps, gathered Andrew up by the front of his shirt, and delivered another powerful blow to his jaw. A cloud of dust rose around Andrew as he sprawled in the dirt a third time. This time when he looked up, blood trickled from his nose and lip.
Vieve watched the tension in Tyson’s back as he clenched his fists in an effort to control an urge to damage Andrew further. “Get out of here,” he growled. “You disgust the dirt with your presence.”
Andrew needed no further prompting. He rose to stand on shaky legs, gingerly touching his bruised and bloody face, and fled. Tyson did not turn toward Vieve until the sound of the departing charge of Andrew’s horse was no longer heard. It seemed an eternity that she stared at his rigid back.
Then she saw that his face was carved out of stone, and the smile of thanks on her lips froze. His eyes traced the length of her body, reminding her of her exposed state. Self-consciously, she pushed down her skirt and sat upright, attempting to tuck in the torn flap of her habit that exposed her bosom. Still glaring at her, he reached out a hand to help her to her feet.
“Thank you,” she said weakly. Her hat lay several feet away, and she took the opportunity to retrieve it. “I... I... don’t know why...I’d never have left the house with him had I known....” She glanced at Tyson uncertainly, forgetting the hat now that she had achieved a safer distance. She could still see the anger in his expression. “I am grateful, but I am sorry that you were called upon to rescue me.”
“Are you? Or do you like the game, damsel?’
“You can’t possibly think that I...? Oh, please,” she said with a quivering chin. “If I were nothing but a whore, would I allow my clothing to be destroyed?”
“I think you have dallied with the boy too much. He seems to think he has acquired some special rights with you. What did you expect?”
“I expected too much,” she admitted. “He swore he was sorry for his effrontery and intended to mend his ways. That is why I agreed to go out for a ride with him.”
Tyson laughed, but it was clear he was not in the least amused. “Madam, are you truly so naive, or is this another game you play?’
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her fists tensed at her sides. The anger within her was reborn. “I am a complete fool, for I believed him. I admit it. It should be clear to even you that he was about to take me much against my will.”
“Plain enough,” Tyson shot back. “But did you have no better sense than to place yourself alone with him? Do you deny that you have always known his intentions?”
“He tricked me,” she shouted. Tears smarted in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “He begged me to forgive his earlier behavior and be a friend for my brother’s sake.” She shook her head in disbelief, for Andrew’s duplicity still astounded her. “Tyson, please understand,” she entreated. “Andrew has lingered about our parlors and halls for as long as I can rem
ember. He was first a friend of the family; my father was acquainted with his parents. And when he became my suitor he was not always so bold.”
Tyson’s expression eased slightly. The glitter of fury in his eyes ebbed as he stepped toward her. His voice was softer, though his words still bit deeply. “But you toyed with the boy,” he said. “You have purposely tempted him.”
“Oh, damn,” she cursed. “A kiss or two? An embrace between two people who expect to be wed? Am I a fallen woman for that?”
His hand cupped her chin. “Oh, mademoiselle, I am sure there was more than that.”
She straightened her posture proudly. “I will admit even to you, Captain, that I did not discourage him soon enough. I did not see the ends to which he was bound. And I will not be blamed for his conduct.”
“One moment you play the temptress as if you invented the part, and the next you are nothing more than an innocent child.”
“I am neither, Captain,” Vieve said through her tears. “Not temptress, or innocent, or schemer, or child. I am only a victim. I had no part in what he dared.”
“He was so very foolish,” Tyson said gently. “Had he led you rather than pushed you, he might have met with more warmth.”
She looked up into Tyson’s eyes and was touched by what seemed to be understanding in his softened expression. “I will never forgive him.” In spite of her wish to be strong, she began to weep, and Tyson’s arms went around her to give comfort.
There was a feeling of security in the circle of his arms. He gently stroked her hair and held her for a long, tender spell. But as her tears gave way, she was conscious of another, more stirring emotion. She felt the hard press of his solid chest against her breasts. The soothing caress of his hand along her back began to tease her longing. She was not in the least surprised when he lifted her chin and touched her lips with his.
She was caught in a quandary that made her gasp both from fright and desire as he tasted her mouth for some response. She did not question that she wanted desperately for the moment to go on forever, but she knew this was but a sample of the deeper passion he possessed. He had warned her once; he was not a man to begin such an interlude and be halted. She tried to voice her protest, but even she was aware that the quality of her voice held more of a rapturous sigh than determination.
“Please . . . don’t...”
“I have wanted you,” he whispered. “And you have known.”
“Will you remove Andrew only to take his place?” she asked in a faint, trembling voice.
“You know better than that,” he murmured. His hand traveled up the line of her ribs toward her breast. “I intend no force, as you are well aware. You have played your vixen games with a boy, but now you are in the arms of a man.”
His lips covered hers in a searing kiss. Her will was instantly weakened, and she shook with longing. His weapon was gentleness, and he slowly awakened in her a fierce desire. He titillated her yearning with sure finesse and deliberately paced his caresses until she was disarmed.
“If you are to have a lover, cherie, let him at least be a man of suitable experience. You will find me more reliable than Andrew.”
He lifted her into his arms without releasing her mouth and lowered her gently to the floor.
“Have mercy, Tyson,” she said softly. “I cannot fight you.”
“Tell me you do not want me,” he demanded hoarsely.
“I cannot,” she sighed. “But you know it is wrong.”
His lips touched her cheeks, her eyes, her ears and traveled in a fiery path down her neck to her shoulder. “It was wrong with him, my sweet, but I will not disappoint you.”
His lips occupied hers so deliciously that she was unaware of the way his hand had traveled over her hip to pull up her heavy velvet skirt. The warmth of his fingers on her thigh blinded all other thoughts, and she embraced him in a frenzy of desire. He touched where no one else had ever touched her, and she softly moaned with pleasure as a soft glow of warmth spread through her. It did not matter anymore that he came to her without benefit of a priest or a blessing from her father. She had already accepted the fact that she belonged to only him. She was in love with him. In a blur of bewilderment, she began to think it was better done.
She was so lost in his careful manipulations that she was not aware of how he managed to free himself from his trousers. When she realized the fact she distractedly thought about the lack of fumbling with this experienced man. He was so skilled that when she felt him urging his way within her, her brief rally to save her virginity only aided him, and he plunged himself into her.
Through eyes widened by the abrupt pain she could see his expression of surprise. She had seen a great many emotions etched into the fine, handsome lines of his face, but never surprise. When he encountered the natural resistance of her body—her purity—he was totally amazed.
She turned away from his perusal. Had he truly believed that she was already soiled? A woman he could lay with because he believed she’d lain with others?
He was motionless for a long moment, but soon he moved within her again, whispering in her ear, “Easy, my Vieve, my love...
A low moan escaped her and she kept her face averted from his, not looking at him again until he turned her gaze toward him with a hand on her chin. He held himself still and stared into her eyes. She read confusion, and if she was not mistaken, betrayal. Then his eyes darkened again to the passion she had earlier seen. He touched her mouth, traced her lips with his tongue, nibbled gently at her lips.
“Put your arms around me,” he instructed in a whisper. “Come, my sweet vixen, hold me...love me…”
She wrapped her arms around him and gave her lips to his in a deep kiss. The burning ache began to subside as he began a slow, temperate movement. His hands and the gentle thrusting of his hips caused a warmth that was deep and glowing to spread through her, until she forgot herself again and moved with him, meeting him in each movement, receiving, giving, taking. There was an ecstasy alluded to, and she found herself not knowing it, but reaching and yearning, just the same.
He was suddenly possessed of a wild, shuddering spasm, pressing deeply within her and holding her desperately for a long moment. When he was so motionless, she was left to listen to his rapid breathing, wondering vaguely what joy she had missed and he had felt. Finally, he gave her cheek a light kiss and carefully withdrew.
She didn’t watch as he pulled back to sit on his heels. She could hear him arrange his clothing and felt him gently pull her skirt down. She felt a strange emptiness, already missing that helpless longing she had felt moments ago. It felt cool and lonely to be out of his arms. She bit the knuckle on her index finger, hoping she would not cry the predictable and forlorn tears of a defiled maiden. That struggle occupied her for a generous length of time.
“You didn’t tell me in time,” he finally said, his voice subdued by unmistakable displeasure. It had never occurred to her that should she engage in such intimacy, she might find the man disappointed by her purity. “I hope you’re not hurt; it is rarely pleasant for a maid the first time.”
She pulled herself to a sitting position, ready to tell him that there was great joy in being so close to him, taking him as a part of her body. But the angry look on his face halted her endearments. Was it not a beautiful moment for him, too?
“I’m all right, Tyson,” she said very softly.
He stood, sighed deeply, and held out a hand to her. She found it difficult to look at him now, but it was not shyness that deterred her. Rather, she feared the expression she might read on his face.
“One question,” he said, his tone quiet but demanding. “And have a care, petite, do not lie. Deception has a way of coming to the surface sooner or later. Did your father ask you to do this?”
“My father?” she repeated, aghast. “My God, my father may well wash his hands of me when...”
“Did you enter into some plot with your family to see me trapped?”
She shook her
head in disbelief. “Could you think it?” she whispered in a new agony. “Would my own family use my virtue as a pawn?”
“I did just commit myself to a huge sum of money in partnership with your father and brother. Had you offered yourself before the contracts were drawn, there would still have been time for me to flee.”
She looked away from him. Her shoulders shook slightly with misery. “Oh, flee, Captain, if that is your wont. I assure you, I will not try to hold you.”
She felt his knuckle gently brush a tear from her cheek. With his hands on her shoulders he turned her to face him. “It was your own notion then? That I would be the one to claim your virtue? Was it for profit?”
“Notion?” she queried, numbed by this inquisition. “Profit? My lord.” She shook her head in wonder.
“Your family needs money,” he said. “I would not fare well in England, charged with a crime against a noblewoman. An American would have no chance in your British courts. My influence and wealth will matter very little in this country.”
“And you think that I will fare well, sir, debauched by a colonial seaman?”
“Though you have been coy, you will gain more than I. And you knew I wanted you.”
“You wanted me,” she cried. “And that is my fault. Good Lord above us, my worst offense is that I am intolerably stupid.”
“You barely resisted—”
“You would not cease.”
“Many women have tried to trap my wealth,” he told her. “It is not the first time such a ploy has been used to capture a man.”
Her hand rose to her mouth as she felt hysteria threaten. Her pain was never more intense. “And none of them virgins?” she cruelly mocked. “And you called me an unsuccessful harlot” She began to walk away from him, but he quickly grabbed her wrist and drew her back. “Just let me go,” she said. “The mark of my passing will not show on you. I am the one changed.”
“If not for gain, then why?” he demanded.
She was speechless for a moment, staring at him. Was she to humble herself now and admit that she could not resist him because she adored him? She glared at him. “You horrible wretch. Leave me be and cease in your demands.”
