Master of Pleasure

by Delilah Marvelle

  That sounded a bit arcane. “But isn’t serving another country outside of your own considered…oh, I don’t know…treason? Don’t people hang for that?”

  “Damn right they do.” He pointed at her. “And that is why you will tell no one outside of these four walls I’m working for the Persian government. No one. Not even Jacob. I’m putting my very breath into your hands, pigeon. I expect you to be infinitely flattered.”

  She tightened her lips. “By what? That you are now assigning me with an endearment that has only three letters more than the word ‘pig’?”

  He tsked. “I happen to like pigeons. They can fly through enemy fire and still deliver a message. Now stop nagging me and embrace the fact that I revere you enough to tell you all of my secrets. The sort of secrets that get a man killed. For that alone, I expect to be fully rewarded.”

  She straightened and adjusted the collar of her gown. “I was trying to.”

  He lowered his chin. “That wasn’t what I was talking about. Respect the fact that I respect you enough to keep this civil. Now. I’m already a year beyond the age most men enter into nikāh. So the sooner we do this, the better off I’ll be. Traditionally, contracts are signed before a family member representing each side but given you aren’t talking to yours and I’m not talking to mine, we’ll keep it to us and a sole witness, and whatever we both agree on, we agree on. It shouldn’t be that complicated. We like each other, don’t we?”

  What…? She squinted. “What are you talking about?”

  He dropped his hand to his side. “Marriage. Nikāh is a legal contract between a groom and his bride. We agree on certain terms, I pay you the mahr, and then we fulfill those terms by way of ceremony. It’s essential to upholding an Islamic marriage. It’s the whole ‘your foes and woes are mine and mine are thine’ mentality.”

  She choked. He was asking her to marry him. Holy— “Whilst flattered well beyond breath knowing I was able to get you to propose so quickly, I’m not Muslim.”

  “Neither am I. But these Persians get offended if we stay in their land and don’t play along. Consider them family. For they are. You and I will have our own Christian ceremony here in London before we leave. That way, it will be legal in our eyes and that of our God. Not just theirs. Now what is your mahr? Name your dowry and I will acquire it.”

  She hesitated. “My dowry?”

  “Yes. What sort of dowry do you want? How can I get you to accept my offer of nikāh? Name your price. It can be money or any other physical item you want.”

  This was…unusual. “I set a price? And you pay it in return for my hand?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m confused. Doesn’t the female usually pay the dowry to a man?”

  “No. Not in Persia. A female is worth far more there than she is here in England.”

  Imagine that. She’d been living in the wrong country all her life. “Well, I…” She paused. What was she thinking? He didn’t have much. And if he was going to marry her and provide for her and Jacob, she really didn’t need much else. Not financially, at least. “I accept your offer without this mahr. I waive my right to it.”

  He lowered his chin. “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “A good husband more than satisfies the price I want paid. There is no need for us to throw money at it. I find that incredibly vulgar and not in the least bit romantic.”

  “Romantic?” He said the word as if trying to swallow a jug full of vinegar. His aloofness showed. “Leona, I’m not a…rendez-vous romantique sort of man. Or is that not obvious?”

  She met his gaze, sensing his wariness. “It’s obvious.”

  “Good. Because I dislike having expectations placed on me. I place enough on myself.” He hesitated. “Our agreement won’t be binding unless I offer you a physical gift of mahr. So what will it be? What do you want?”

  The one thing Ryder never gave her. “An engagement ring. One that denotes a real promise the world can see. It doesn’t have to be expensive. It can be out of tin. As long it’s mine.”

  He rolled his tongue on the inside of his mouth before finally saying, “Done. Only it won’t be tin. If we’re going to do this, it’s going to be done right. You want something that won’t bend or fall off your finger. Is a ruby acceptable? Or did you have another stone in mind?”

  Her brows went up. “Aren’t rubies expensive?”

  “They certainly aren’t cheap.”

  She clasped her hand over her ring finger already feeling its weight. “My father once gave me an expensive ring and I lost it. I’d rather not live with the guilt. Maybe I can have just a simple gold band. That is, if you can…afford it.”

  “Stop thinking I’m poor. I’m not. I simply don’t like to flaunt what I have or live in extravagance given all the people who struggle in this world.” He inclined his head. “Consider a gold band yours. In the meantime…” He widened his stance. “Here are my terms. They’re really quite simple. I want and need a companion. Someone I can attend gatherings with and whose presence I genuinely enjoy. You’ve already proven to be intelligent and entertaining and I like that. I like you.”

  She smirked. “I’m glad you like me. I rather like you, too. Maybe we’ll be madly in love with each other by the end of this.”

  He stared. “Let us not get ahead of ourselves, because I’m not done giving my terms. At night, I ask that you respect the physical distance I require. So don’t come knocking on my door half-naked with some excuse. Because unless you’re being chased by Russians, I won’t open it.”

  Her lips parted. “I don’t understand. Are you saying you and I won’t ever—”

  “I’m not done. During the day, you and I will be the family Jacob needs us to be. The boy will want for nothing and will grow up to be an admiral. Like me. Which means by the time he is sixteen, he will be sailing on every last outgoing ship with me and will be earning a damn good living. You will naturally be permitted to join us at sea whenever you like, unless of course, we are at war or on assignment. I will expect you to be faithful, as I will be to you, and whenever we’re apart, you will stay indoors at all times. For your safety.”

  “For my safety?” she echoed.

  “Yes. Aside from the fact that more than a few Russians and well over a dozen pirates want me dead, if you think British men are incapable of keeping their trouser flaps buttoned in the presence of a pretty lady, Persian men are the equivalent of fish needing to put their heads into water. Which means, once we marry, and you begin wearing traditional garbs and veils, you aren’t allowed to go anywhere into public without me. Not even a walk around the garden. A woman wandering alone in public is a signal to all the men that she is a prostitute and available for sex. So if and when I am at sea, you’ll be expected to stay indoors at all times until I return. No exceptions. If Jacob wishes to go anywhere or play or see the sights during a time when I’m unavailable to take him, he will be assigned a guard that will escort him outside instead. Because you won’t be able to do it yourself.”

  It sounded like a prison sentence. “If the men in Persia are that incapable of control, and given that the Russians and pirates don’t like you, either, I insist we all stay right here in England. In London. Which is the middle of the country and far, far away from shore. In fact, I’m not giving you a choice about it. Because even if you were promising me paradise in its truest and bluest form, I’m not getting on a ship. And Jacob most certainly will not become an admiral. War aside, ships are incredibly dangerous. I didn’t bring a child into this world to see him leave it before his time.”

  The thought of it made her feel like water pressing itself against her throat and squeezing every last gagging breath out of her lungs. Which is exactly how her poor father died. In water.

  She swallowed. “If we’re going to do this, we will lead our lives right here. On land. In England. Away from shore. Yes?”

  “No.” His voice notably hardened to emphasize his point. “I resume my duty as admiral by the end of Sept
ember. Which means, if I’m not on that ship in eight weeks with a bride, I’ll have eight Persian guards escorting me to sea with enough chains wrapped around me to sink whatever vessel I’m on. Which is why you and Jacob are coming with me.”

  “No. We’re not. We’re staying here. Because I’m not stepping on a boat. I’m not—”

  “You most certainly are. Aside from the fact you know my greatest secret – meaning, that I work for the Persian government – I also kissed you. Both of which make you officially mine. Not only in my eyes, but the eyes of God.” His voice continued to be laced with depth and authority. “You are now mine. And you have no further say in this.”

  Her eyes widened. Whoever thought this daydream could turn into a nightmare? “No further say in this? Really? So in your vast nautical opinion, I now have to marry you?”

  He set his shoulders. “Yes. And why wouldn’t you want to?”

  She snorted. “Why, indeed. Let us set aside the fact that your ego has magically inflated beyond the size of your chest, Jacob and I aren’t getting on a ship. Our feet stay on land. My father died at sea. Shall I repeat that for you? He died. Why? Because humans weren’t meant to crawl onto pieces of nailed wood and float about a large expanse of water. It isn’t natural. Which mean Jacob and I are staying right here. His two feet and my two feet will stand on land. I’ll not be convinced otherwise. And if it means we don’t marry because of it, then we don’t.”

  He stared her down, his blue eyes flaring. “Allow me to repeat what I earlier said, pigeon. I’m taking what is mine on a ship. You are cargo that goes on my shoulder and you aren’t leaving my side.”

  He did not just call her pigeon and tell her she was cargo.

  She glared. “I know you’re probably used to giving orders and having them followed, but I’m not part of your naval fleet, Admiral. Aside from the fact that your marriage proposal falls short of making me feel like I’m a piece of furniture you plan to move across England, I’m not about to face my greatest fear of getting on a ship for a man who insists I live in a country where the natives assume all women are prostitutes. I’m also not about to marry a man who isn’t interested in kissing or touching me. That-that…isn’t normal. I want to be kissed. I want to be touched. After all, if I were that interested in sleeping alone at night, all I have to do is introduce myself to the life I’m already living!”

  He scrubbed his head in exasperation. “Why are you complicating this? I’m offering you far more than I’ve offered any woman.”

  She snorted. “That may explain why you’re still available.”

  He glared. “The last time I even allowed myself to touch or kiss a woman, was when I was eighteen. Eighteen! Everything I’ve ever done, I’ve damn well done by choice. And you made your choice, Leona. You made it. Because if you didn’t want to get involved with me, if you didn’t want me to be your man, you shouldn’t have damn well followed me into my bedchamber and kissed me! That is unacceptable. Because I’m a Christian man.”

  Bwuh. She pointed at him. “So says the man who talks about sex and cookies. Don’t you dare give me the Christian talk.”

  He still glared. “Why? Are you not a Christian, Leona? Do you not believe in God?”

  “It isn’t that I don’t believe. I simply haven’t been all that impressed.”

  “Faith is meant to be tested.”

  “No. Not this much.” She stepped back, her eyes burning. “I still haven’t forgiven God for taking my father. Of all the ships He could have drowned, He chose the very one I needed Him to save. I’m also bitter knowing the leaders of His so-called church refuse to baptize my child. A child who has every right to the same privileges as other children. Because my sins are not his sins. As I said…I’m not impressed. At all.”

  “Leona. You can’t hold God accountable for simpletons. There are churches that will baptize your son. None in London, mind you, but there are some in Essex. We could ride out and have him baptized within the next week if that is what you want.”

  She pulled in her chin. “Are you my pastor all of a sudden?”

  He stared. “If you need one, I consider myself well-trained for it. How often do you pray?”

  “I don’t. I have no need for a God who never listens. I already get that from the rest of the world.”

  His lips parted as if astounded. He intently searched her face, and after a long moment, said in a hard, removed tone, “No wonder you don’t put your feet into water. You have no faith. Which will haunt you. I’m giving you an opportunity to give Jacob more. And if that isn’t enough for you, do remind yourself that you had the boy out of wedlock. Who do you think is going to genuinely accept you and that boy, Leona? Ask yourself that. Who?”

  She stared, feeling as if he’d slapped her. And he had. For while a part of her knew he was right, given very few men would ever accept her or Jacob without judgment, she wanted more. More for herself and more for her son. Because she had already once settled for less.

  But not this time. She was done letting a man dictate what she did and didn’t want out of life. “Don’t you dare speak to me about offering whatever you can, because the only offer I’ll take will be the one that permits me to lead the sort of life Jacob and I deserve. I don’t expect sweeping gestures of romance from a man who punches blades into the wall, but I’m not about to let you treat me like cargo, either. The way you treat me is the path I set for my son. Which is why, if you want me, and I’m more than willing to give you and this a try, we’re going to go into this like normal people do. Without contracts. Without limits. That means…when I come to you, no matter the hour, no matter the reason, you had better be ready to show me I’m the only woman you ever want in your arms and in your life. Am I understood in this?”

  His expression stilled and grew serious. “You want too much.”

  She could feel her breasts rise and fall under what felt like labored breaths. She was tired of everyone telling her that. Maybe she was a mere miss, maybe she had no money, maybe she wasn’t special to anyone but herself, but to her son, she was a queen. And she was going to damn well live up to that. For Jacob. And more importantly, for herself.

  “No,” she bit out, pointing at him. “You want too little. For while you dare offer me marriage in the guise of wanting to be a father to my son, the reality is I’m nothing more than hired help to you. A hired help you conveniently need to fill some Islamic contract I want no part of. I have trouble accepting my own God. What makes you think I’m going to accept theirs? Which is why I’d rather we continue with what is already in place. That is: you be Lord Brayton who leaves in a few weeks, and I’ll be Miss Webster, your servant, who takes whatever measly shillings I earn so I can invest it in a life worth living. A life where I’m not limited to someone who refuses to give me the one thing I not only deserve but want: everything.”

  His features tightened. He said nothing.

  Which she expected. What man would ever offer her and her son everything?

  The loud chime of a bell from down the corridor made her pause.

  “So much for no one coming to the door.” She set her chin and took on the respectable tone of a servant. “It appears you have a visitor, my lord. Shall I find a tray for the calling cards? And will you be accepting any visitors today?”

  He averted his gaze. “No tray,” he muttered. “I’m not interested in seeing anyone.”

  “No surprise there,” she tossed out. “Why let anyone into your life but God?”

  He kept his eyes averted. “I suggest you leave.”

  His lack of emotion was disturbing. “After I answer the door, I most certainly will. You needn’t worry in that. Jacob and I will be gone.”

  He kept his gaze averted. “I didn’t mean in that way.” His face cracked and became somber. “You kissed me, Leona. And I wholeheartedly kissed you, too. That makes you mine. Regardless of whether I ever touch you again or not, you are mine. And I will not let you walk away.”

  She swallowed. Despi
te wavering and refusing to let this man into her mind and into her heart, she did. In that moment, she did. For she could see it in his face and his eyes that he wasn’t trying to hurt her. This was about something else. Something she couldn’t understand because he wasn’t letting her. “Malcolm, if there is something I need to know, tell me. Tell me before we hurt each other. You’ve been…so amazing to me. I’ve never met a man so beautifully dedicated to being honorable. From the moment you yanked that creditor out of my face and stepped into my life, I finally feel I have a chance to touch something few women do. I foresee nothing but amazing things for us. So why are you insisting that we not share in what men and women usually do? Explain it so I may understand. Because I don’t.”

  His rugged features twisted and eventually gave into anguish. Setting a heavily scarred hand to the back of his neck, he squeezed his eyes shut. A slow and well-controlled breath left his lips. “I’m not like other men, Leona. I would tell you more, but—I stayed at sea for a reason. I didn’t want to meet any women because I didn’t want to do something I would regret. Be aware, that the more you ask for and the more you want from not only my body but my heart, the less I’m able to control.”

  What was she getting herself attached to? Whatever this was, whatever he was not saying, it wasn’t something she was willing to expose her child to. She would rather hug a damn pillow for the rest of her life than live in the shadow of whatever he was talking about.

  “I can’t do this,” she finally choked out. “I don’t know what you are or aren’t saying, because you aren’t giving me enough to understand. The kiss you and I shared in, the one you insist that now makes me yours, obligates me to nothing. Because I have a child to raise, Malcolm, and forgive me for even saying this, but I don’t need a man to raise, too.”

  With that, she walked out of the room to answer the door.