by Suzi Love
Three men had paid the Earl for a night with her and yet she didn’t hate any of them. One of them she’d remembered fondly because, considering what Max had tried to do for her when he was only a youth himself, she couldn’t help but be grateful that he’d been the first. By the second, and third, she’d been more confident and had handled the situation better.
“You know nothing of my upbringing,” Max said, turning his back once more, though she didn’t need to see his face to perceive his tension. His shoulders were stiff, his spine rigid and his hands pushed back his coat tails.
“Oh, but I do know. I lived close by the inn where we met. My husband was so tight-fisted that he refused to travel far that first time because it would have cost more.”
He turned and stared at her, focusing his unnerving stare on her face, her hair and then her figure. “I don’t recall seeing you in the area.”
“We led a reclusive life because my husband detested being around people who were either happier or wealthier than him. He allowed me to visit our local village once or twice a week to purchase essentials, and nothing more.”
“And yet you claim to know of my upbringing.”
“Higher ranking families govern rural areas, so their comings and goings are discussed in great detail and, from there, news travels.”
“Did you know who I was that night?”
“No. I’d glimpsed you from a distance when you rode your great black stallion along the lanes, but I’d never been close to you, so I pictured you as either a hero who’d save me from the Earl, or a villain wanting to rob me of my virginity.”
“I did not rob you of anything,” he enunciated each word. “Meachams aren’t thieves. My grandfather paid for that night.”
“Yes, well, I’m afraid I can’t agree with you about that. However, we were discussing your betrothed. Blonde, blue eyed, perfect lineage, and I imagine sweet and demure.”
“Lady Johnston possesses every quality a man of my standing requires in a bride.”
“Marrying a duke is a feather in her cap and a bonus for her parents.”
“I never concern myself with such details but, yes, marrying a duke will certainly raise their social standing. My family is one of the most revered in England.”
“Still, I fail to see what you gain, besides a womb in which to nourish your heirs.” She couldn’t seem to stop poking her finger into his haughty demeanor, hoping it would deflate a little and lower him from his elevated status to a more normal level.
“After I met your Lady Johnston, I confess that I was puzzled as to why you were marrying an unworldly girl when you’re widely acclaimed as a man of extraordinary brilliance. And a girl of eighteen years…” She shrugged. “To be perfectly truthful, she didn’t appear to be the sharpest young lady in London.”
“This is an outrage.” He strode towards the door, while yelling over his shoulder, “I didn’t come here to be insulted.”
Gertie walked through the drawing room door at that moment, followed by Thompkins, two maids, and the tea trays. Max hadn’t been paying attention and as he rushed towards the door, he collided with Gertie, knocking her to the floor. Carina sank on one knee beside her, while Thompkins struggled to balance the wobbling tea trays before the maids dropped them.
“Gertie, speak to me. Are you hurt?” When Gertie shook her head and tried to rise, Carina eased her back down. “No, no, lie still. Until I’m sure that you’re uninjured.”
Max hovered over them without moving or speaking and, in fact, Carina decided he looked terrified, frozen in place. However, Gertie’s wellbeing was her foremost concern, not the extreme reaction the Duke was having to the accident, even if he’d been the cause of the mishap.
“I’m sorry. So sorry.” Max’s pallor was whiter than the victim’s as he repeated his apologies over and over. “I didn’t see you.”
As he repeated it, his tone became more frantic, which seemed at odds with his public image of self-control. He was acting as if he’d killed Gertie. Then he stopped talking and peered down at Gertie’s face, before dropping to his knees and grasping her hand. This show of emotion seemed so alien to his nature that Carina rocked back on her heels to gape.
Ignoring her, Max spoke to Gertie. “I recognize you. Your home was near our estate in Stirkton.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” From her position on the floor, Gertie managed a weak smile. “I grew up in the same area as you. My mother was a great friend to your mother when they were girls. Clarissa married your father and went to live on your estate, and that was when she…changed.”
“Perhaps...Would it be possible...Would you mind...?”
Carina’s gaze swung between them, amazed at the instant connection her friend had made with the Duke. Her own interaction with him was prickly and disturbing, while Gertie related to him as if they’d conversed a hundred times before and liked each other.
“...If I called,” the Duke continued, sounded abnormally emotional. “When you feel improved, of course, and have recovered from my clumsiness.”
Both had forgotten Carina’s close presence and spoke to each other as if sharing tea and a gossip. Max was gentle and kind and Gertie, distrustful of most men and for good reason, turned pink-cheeked and gazed at Max as if he’d hung the moon.
“I’d like to hear about my ... my mother. I recall very little, and the staff at the Hall changes so often that nobody there remembers her.”
Max dipped his head and touched his forehead to Gertie’s who, in turn, reached up and touched a finger to his cheek. Stunned yet fascinated by the unfolding scene, Carina shuffled her knees closer to Gertie. Her old friend clasped her arm and raised her brow in question.
Upon Carina’s nod of confirmation, Gertie smiled. “I’d be delighted, your grace. There are things you should be told now that your grandfather has passed on.”
When Max frowned, Carina forestalled anymore questions by helping Gertie to her feet and summoning the two maids to assist her friend upstairs.
Speaking over her shoulder she said, “I must settle Gertie in her chamber and then I’ll return. Thompkins will serve tea, or if you prefer something to settle your nerves, there’s brandy.”
“Thank you.” Max bent in a polite bow. “I await your return with great anticipation.” He glanced at the other’s retreating backs before bending closer. “You’ll not put me off, Carina. Talk of the past and our night together has stirred my interest in you even more, and I find myself eagerly anticipating our liaison over the next few weeks.”
His warm breath whispered across her earlobe and blew over her neck, setting her pearl earbobs swinging in what she was certain was a deliberate move. “I looked forward to being beside you, day and night.”
Her body shivered involuntarily at each raspy murmur. Drat the man! She hadn’t considered the Duke would, or could, unbend and tease her in return, and she was helpless to deal with it, or with him. She’d prepared herself for a beastly Max and had been confident she could repel any advances he made. But this smooth-tongued Max left her weak-kneed, tongue-tied and unable to summon her normal defenses.
“I think of it,” she said, striving for a cool and steady tone of voice, “not so much as a relationship, but as two friends—good friends—prepared to assist each other with a mutual and delicate situation.”
“Really my dear lady, why not lay all our cards on the table and tell the truth? You’re already known as a possible murderess.”
When he raised one haughty eyebrow and waited, Carina wondered why she’d allowed this condescending man a moment of pity, or why she’d weakly wavered at his few short words of seduction. The Duke and, yes, she admitted it, his masculine and muscular physique, had drawn her physically, despite her mind putting up considerable resistance. Max presented more danger to her now than when she’d been a bewildered girl served up to him.
“So please, my not-so-innocent temptress, let’s call our association by more correct terminology.”
His looked
at her with determination, distrust and distaste, before spitting out his accusation. “Blackmail!”
Carina gasped. She strode to the door without a word and she pushed all thought of perhaps forming an amicable partnership with Max from her mind. The Duke of Stirkton had played her for a fool. Tugged at her feminine softer side in a deliberate ploy to disconcert her and allow him to claim victory in this round.
This, however, was merely another preliminary skirmish in their month-long war, after which time she’d willingly retreat, or perhaps flee before her virtue was claimed once more.
Chapter Three
Maximus waited until Lady Dorchester’s butler closed the doors to the drawing room behind him, before lifting his shaking hand to his mouth and taking gulping down a large dose of brandy. A few minutes earlier, by pure accident, he’d almost harmed a woman, which was the very thing he’d sworn would never happen again.
When he’d seen Gertie lying on the floor, he’d been sharply reminded of the beast he might be now had Augustus lived further into his growing years. Max’s greatest fear was turning out like Augustus in adulthood and flying into rages and, even perhaps, harming a woman. Brought up to follow family dictates or expect fierce retribution, his younger self had learned to hold himself together. But he’d laid in his lonely bed night after night and wondered why other lads his age, even those of the lower classes, appeared to be happy when he was so miserable.
On the other hand, he’d not end up like his father and uncle, both of whom had been undisciplined and disorganized and had suffered dearly for those weaknesses. His own life was mapped out, and his forthcoming marriage and the begetting of his heir was his duty—to preserve the integrity of the Meacham name. Until reconnecting with the Countess of Dorchester last evening, he’d believed himself one of only two people who knew the family’s sordid secrets, and who knew of Max’s tireless work to make amends for the barbarities Augustus had caused.
Max strode to the window and stared out at the street, but all he could think of was the Countess speaking to the women with whom he’d had liaisons and wondering what they’d disclosed. And, more importantly, how the Countess’s disclosures would affect his carefully laid plans. He’d brazened it out and lied that losing Alice’s cooperation mattered not a whit, but, in truth, failing to carry out part of his life’s work would weigh heavily on his conscience. Augustus was dead and buried, yet completely rejecting his rigid ideas and plans was akin to Max abandoning England and going off to climb a Tibetan mountain. Nevertheless, looking at Carina as she’d defied him this morning, he’d been sorely tempted for the first time in many years—eight to be exact—to claim the woman he wanted, drag her to his lair and plough her until they both collapsed from an excess of pleasure.
Carina glided back into the room, skirts swirling and gave life to his dream. How she’d retained her strong spirit despite the torments she’d been subjected to was a mystery, one he was determined to solve. She was vibrant, womanly, intelligent, and he craved her in his bed with a compulsion so opposite to his nature that it disconcerted him.
“Max, thank you for your patience.”
Carina’s auburn hair had been twisted high on her head when he’d arrived, but as she’d become more animated, wisps had escaped until tendrils had teased her neck and a rosy color had tinted her cheeks. Her eyes glowed as green as a cat’s, and Max barely stopped himself reaching out and touching her face, tucking a wayward curl behind her ears, or nipping at her earlobe. Most of all, he wanted to bend his head and taste her essence, to touch his lips to her skin and absorb some of the zest and energy she radiated. Her character was as far removed from the reserve of his betrothed as ice was from fire, and for once in his miserable existence he longed to warm himself before a blazing fire instead of staring at an empty hearth.
Regretfully, he cleared his head and said, “I’m so sorry I caused such a mishap to your companion. How is she faring?”
“She insists she’s recovered. Nevertheless, I suggested she rest a while longer.”
“A wise decision. Please convey my deepest regret for what happened. I’m not usually so bumble-footed.”
“You were upset and rushing to escape.”
“Leaving,” Max snarled. “Not escaping.”
“But I upset you by speaking of your grandfather watching you pleasure a woman.”
“And I reiterate that pleasuring a woman takes more time than I can allow away from my duties.” He called on his practiced iron-will and forced himself to visibly relax. “Anyway, why would it upset me to speak of something so normal and something that provides physical relief for a man?”
“And what of women? Is being bedded normal for them, too?”
“I cannot speak for all women,” he said in his most formal voice, “but delaying the inevitable in the bedroom is waste of time for women who are being paid to lie down and allow a man to spend himself inside them. I’ve far better things to do than participate in idle chit-chat when both parties are eager for a rapid conclusion.”
“After you’re married, how many hours— Oh, no, how silly of me. With your busy schedule, how many minutes or seconds will you allocate each night in the dark to visit the bedchamber of your young bride? Five minutes?”
Max sucked in another sharp breath. “Alice and I will spend no more than the usual few hours together each month, not that it’s any of your concern. In fact, I mention it only to make you aware before you spend your required month with me, that the maximum time I ever allocate to an intimate rendezvous is an hour.”
She raised a haughty brow and glared at him. “Contrary to your assumptions, I’ve not agreed to spend a month with you.”
He gave her a small smile. “Ah, Carina, that’s not in any doubt. You’ll do whatever I say in order to obtain those names you want so desperately.”
“I’m not desperate for anything. ‘Tis simply more expedient for me to obtain them from you so I can move on to the next step in my plans.”
“And what are your next steps?”
She shrugged, as if it mattered little. Yet, the fingers she traced around the swirls carved in her marble mantle, appeared to tremble. “To locate the two men to whom I surrendered my second and third imaginary virginities, and appease my curiosity.”
“And the man your fourth purported virginity was sold to? What do you intend for him?”
“As I’ve informed you,” she stated in a cool tone, dropping her hands to her waist to grip them in a tight knot, “that’s my concern and mine alone.” Her bright curls bounced again as she added, “And certainly not yours.”
Max felt his pulse quicken and his face grow hot, so he brought into play well-practiced techniques learned from an Oriental master years earlier. Slowing his breathing, he expanded his ribcage from his diaphragm upwards, knowing this form of physical relaxation quickly took the edge off his fury. Techniques like this, practiced in secret, had enabled him to function and to avoid lunacy many times during his growing years with Augustus.
He refused to be fobbed off this time, and he’d make Carina aware of his influence and standing, and that without his help she’d never succeed.
“Tell me this at least: why are you so obsessed with destroying that fourth man when you’ve had no connection with him.”
“I need to face my demons, all of them, if I’m to put the past behind me.”
“But he didn’t even touch you?” He narrowed his gaze at her. “Did he?”
“No, he didn’t get the chance. The Earl died, and I retained what you called my fourth virginity.”
Carina shivered, and Max was angry on her behalf since two men had got the chance to be with her. As he must also count himself, the tally was three men. She too began to pace the room, her hands twisting the fabric of her skirt into knots as she walked.
Yet something drove him to prod her to reveal more. “Then I repeat, why?”
She halted and stared straight ahead, eyes wide, and said with utter disgust, “Becau
se, he paid an enormous sum of money and because he’s possibly—”
“Possibly what?” He wanted a believable answer. “What could be so hideous about this man that he causes even you, an otherwise calculating schemer, to shake?”
“I can’t and won’t say anything more until I verify my suspicions. But if you refuse my request and stop me locating that man, I’ll thwart every attempt you make to marry by sending copies of my letters to every prospective bride you approach.”
“There’s an endless supply of women in England who’d marry me today.”
“Sooner or later, the mud I’ve slung about will stick and your titles won’t stop the gossiping or the speculations and the staring. You’ll be reduced to buying a lower class of bride and sullying your esteemed lineage, and your grandfather will rise up from his grave and haunt you and your new bride.”
“I’ve already searched some of Augustus’s papers but I’ve found nothing about the virgins he bought for my birthdays. You’ve gathered more than me and I need you to tell me how you acquired such private information.”
“Only after you fulfil my terms, all my terms. But, for now, my middle sister is a widow who needs to be brought out in society again, and my younger sister is ready for a season.”
He glanced back at her and frowned. “What does any of that have to do with me?”
“You’re going to use your influence to help me launch my sisters.”
Max spluttered. “Me? You can’t be serious. I avoid society whenever possible and I’ve no intention of attending any events simply to convenience your sisters.” He shook his head. “Don’t you have male family members to escort you around town?”
“The girls have a guardian but, unfortunately, he is the difficulty.”
“And why is that?”
“Peter sold me to my husband and married Georgie off far too early to a despicable man. Our younger sister, Lucille, approaches marriageable age but I’ll not let our step-brother ruin her life in the same despicable fashion.”
