Beyond Love

by Glenda Diana

“They would be proud to have one of their silly gel's hook to a man like you. After all, you are the son of a duke.”

  “That's not exactly what they will be calling me.” Lucas laughed at his own humor. “Some people will have a difficult time forgetting what I am.”

  Thorton noticed the way Lucas kept looking behind her. Turning slightly, she saw Blake with his back to her. So the man had the nerve to eavesdrop? Thorton gave Lucas an impish wink as she rang for Griggs. By the time the servant entered, Thorton was already walking toward the door.

  “Griggs, I believe the Baron would like you to start the fire,” she stated before hurrying from the room. Her laughter echoed behind her.

  Blake glanced at the cold hearth; his face flamed with embarrassment. How stupid he must have appeared. Lord, she had made him as daft as she was.

  “Good show, Milord.” Griggs stated dryly. “If you'll move aside, I can get the fire started. It will warm you faster that way...”

  “Get out,” Blake growled.

  “Yes, Milord. I see you are not through with being a noddy for the day.”

  Lucas went to Blake's desk and poured two glass of brandy. “I think you need this,” he said, holding out a glass. “Last night everything seemed fine. I thought the two of you were beginning to fall in love.”

  “Try minding your own business,” Blake sneered. He drained the glass and closed his eyes, waiting for the warmth to fill his belly. But the warmth never came, the numb coldness still dwelled deep inside him. He poured himself another drink hoping for the warmth.

  “Your sister is a great actress,” he stated, slamming down his glass. He was being unreasonable. It wasn't like any of this was Lucas’ fault. With a weary sigh, Blake sank down in the chair behind his desk.

  “What exactly do you mean?”

  “Have you ever thought why your sister would go through with our wedding? Or how she came up with the idea of one year's time?” When Lucas started to speak, Blake held up his hand. “She told me she had to marry me in order to give you what was yours.” Blake looked away from the other man's surprised expression. “I have simply informed your sister her time-limited stay has been lengthened.”

  “Has it ever entered your mind that she could have married anyone, if that was her sole purpose. I know at least twenty men who offered. No rumors, no tales, these men made their offers to me.”

  “Thorton was betrothed to me.” Blake pushed the irritating thought of other men from his mind. She was his, even in pity. He would not let her go to remarry one of her admirers. He would kill the first one who came near her.

  “Admit it, Baron. If Thorton had not came to Stonecrest, you never would have sent for her.”

  “Eventually I would have.”

  “Did you listen to everything Thorton had to say?” Lucas asked, leaning against the corner of the desk. He shook his head. “I can see you didn't.”

  Blake did not much care for Lucas’ condescending attitude. “I have lived long enough to get the gist of what she was telling me. Her conniving plot backfired. She now finds herself in a web of her own weaving.”

  Lucas pushed away from the desk. “Then get the gist of what I'm saying. Let her finish what she was trying to tell you. In other words, stop being an ass.”

  “I have called men out for less!”

  Lucas had already started for the door. “Itching for a brawl? It won't vanish the love you feel for Thorton, but I'm always up for a good fight.”

  Blake jumped to his feet. “I do not love her!” His shout vibrated through the room.

  “Then you're a bigger ass than I thought. Any man would find loving Thorton easy. She has a heart of gold-that's why God made her eyes that color. I'll leave you to your self-pity.”

  The room seemed to grow deathly still as Blake sat alone. Lucas was wrong. He was not feeling self-pity. He had the right to be hurt, angry, even resentful. And he was sick of being called an ass. He only had brief spells when stupidity hit him. His sudden groan filled the room as he dropped his head to his desk.

  God, he did love her.

  * * * *

  Thorton closed her chamber door and swirled around and around at the image of Blake standing at the hearth. He was trying hard not to care. But he was failing. The knock on her door made her heart jerk. She felt a twinge of guilt over her enjoyment at Blake's embarrassment, but he was to blame, she reasoned, as she opened her door.

  Roger stood in the hallway looking like an errant boy. His eyes kept darting down the hall toward the steps. “I wanted to see if you were all right. I know my son and his temper.” At her look of confusion, Roger patted her hand. “The bruises on your chin.”

  Thorton blushed at the reminder. How could Roger even think his son would purposely hurt her? Of course, she thought, Roger didn't know his son all that well. At least not the man deep inside, the man she had glimpsed.

  “He didn't mean to hurt me. Actually, it was my fault. I should have slapped his hand sooner.”

  Roger smiled. “I remember how much you like to slap.” His smile faded, replaced with an expression of sadness. “Do you want to leave him?”

  Thorton touched his hand. “No, but I think if Blake realized that, he would send me off. You won't tell him?”

  “No. Can't see why you would want to stay. We've not been very nice to you.”

  “You are my family. And I think you know why I'm staying.” Thorton kissed his cheek. “Yes, I believe you do know why.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “How did it go?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Excellent. I knew you could pull it off,” Mr. Green said, smiling. “You're a treasure, love.”

  “And you value me, do you not?” Laran asked.

  “Of course.” Green had been around Laran enough to know she wanted something. The look in her big blue eyes told him so. He valued her about as much as he valued his other women, hardly at all, but if it gave her pleasure thinking she meant something to him, who was he to deny her?

  “I was just making sure.” Laran smiled. “I'd hate to risk my neck for a man who doesn't care.”

  She was lying through her pretty white teeth. He could tell by the way she was smiling, like a well-fed feline. He never thought of it as lowering himself when he wandered through the alleys of London nor when he associated with scum. There was always information available for a small price. And the women were so hungry for a ‘gentleman’ they would do anything.

  From the time he was old enough to use his rod, he had enjoyed the privilege of being a male. As a young man he began journeying to the back streets of London. At first, it was for excitement, of being where he was not supposed to be. But as he got older he realized what appetizing secrets the alleys had to offer. The women were so different from those of the ton and he heartily thanked his Maker for that blessing.

  All it took to master his great disguise was to simply change his name. When he stepped from his coach and his feet touched the dark streets, he became Mr. Green. If any rumors floated about, they never had his real name attached to them.

  It was on one of his back-street excursions when he met the tasty Laran. She was enthusiastic in bed and in her wants ... and the lovely wanted everything she could get her grubby hands on. He actually admired her for those ambitions, for the simple reason that he had them as well.

  That was what made Laran and Thomas the prefect helpmates for his scheme. On several occasions Laran had tried to get him to reveal his true name. He thoroughly enjoyed her attempts and encouraged her to keep up her interrogations. She was the most unrestricted lass he had ever known and that was the main reason he kept returning to her.

  “Is there anything else you want me to do for you?” Laran purred, running her fingers up the soft material of his jacket.

  “Perhaps, later,” he said, catching her wandering hands. “I have an engagement tonight.”

  “One of those fancy parties, love?” she asked, molding her body to his.

  �
��You could call it that.” He laughed, pushing her away. “How's Thomas liking his new job?”

  Laran shrugged, a soft smile playing upon her lips, while her fingers slowly undid the tiny buttons lining the front of her dress. Her smile widened as Green's hot gaze watched her nimble fingers. She let the dress fall from her shoulders, down around her waist, then discarded it at her feet. “Thomas likes his job well enough, especially having all the girls at his beck and call. He keeps them happy.”

  “You're not jealous at the attention your nephew's receiving?” he asked, his eyes running over her lush form. Slowly he advanced on her. Apparently she thought him to be a simpleton like her nephew, that she could entrap him with just the sight of her body. If he didn't have need for her and Thomas’ assistance, he would show her just how entrapped he was. But all good things came to those who waited.

  “Why should I be jealous?” Laran laughed. “Anytime I want Thomas, all I have to do is motion to him. Besides, I have him every morning while the whores sleep. Tommy and me are one and the same. We both take what we want and our hunger is insatiable. It takes many to satisfy us.”

  “I well know your appetite.” Green laughed. “You burn all the time for loving.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, rubbing her body against his. “I burn, Milord. Come put out my fire.”

  “Some other time. I told you, I have plans for tonight. Let your equal feed you.” Green pinched her nipple, enjoying her soft whimper. “I'm sure Thomas is as hungry as you are.”

  With a harsh laugh, he turned away. Laran was a temptation, just not the one he wanted. He had finally found the woman he wanted for all time. Actually, it was all quite funny. He recalled all the rash statements he had made concerning marriage and now his words were coming back to haunt him. He had fallen victim to the very thing he had always criticized ... love.

  He would give up his extra activities, his trips to the alleys of London, his numerous other women. None of it seemed like the great sacrifice he presumed it would be. It didn't even cause a twinge of regret. There was not a doubt in his mind that he would remain faithful to his beloved. What man wouldn't? She was everything a man could ask for. And she would be his.

  Women liked gentleness, sweet words, tender smiles, and the feeling of being protected. Once he got his beloved alone, he would show her what lay deep within his heart. When she saw how much he loved her, she would surrender willingly.

  But first he had to get the lady away from her husband. And that's from where his trouble would stem. It was going to take superb timing, calculated plotting. In the end, it would be as easy as one, two, and three.

  Before this delightful little play came to a close, Thorton Bradley would be his. Poor, foolish Thomas thought his payment would do in the delicious form of the Baroness, but disappointments were simply destiny in some men's lives. But there was a good side to this sad revelation. Poor Thomas would not have to linger long over losing such a prize, for he was going to get exactly what was coming to him, quickly, almost painlessly.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It had been two long, dreadful weeks since their in-home separation. Thorton thought she would go mad. It wasn't like she was held prisoner in the town house; that she could have easily handled. No, it was the arrangement Blake had made that upset her. Not only did they attend the parties that had been previously arranged, but also they now were nightly attending parties.

  She didn't much care for the galas themselves. The women primped to be seen, but what infuriated Thorton was that the females of the ton seemed to lose whatever senses they might have possessed the moment they entered a crowded ballroom. Pomp came in the shameless vision of what were supposed to be gentlemen, or as she called them, ‘Pompous Dolts.’ The parties did, however, give her one exciting opportunity, making it all worthwhile ... when Blake took her in his arms and swirled her across the polished floors.

  In front of the Social World, Blake acted as if they were a loving couple. He touched her in gentle, caressing ways. He kissed her hand, whispered in her ear, saying things he knew would make her blush becomingly for their audience.

  At first she was confused by his actions, then got the grasp of the show he was performing. What an actor her beloved husband had turned out to be. The curtain rose with their entrance into public and fell when they existed.

  The first night of his performance, her hopes had soared. She had thought he finally realized what an arse he had been and that his quick judgment of her had been wrong. Like a fool she had thought he was making amends. It nearly broke her heart when she realized it was a cruel trick ... a show. It didn't take her long to recognize her mistake.

  After a night of sweet whispers, soft touches, loving attention, Thorton could not wait for them to reach home. Blake had assisted her from the carriage, guided her up the stairs to her chamber door, then promptly left her standing alone in the hallway.

  She'd never been one to be beaten in a game, least wise, not without giving it her best. She still had hope. Once she'd heard an old saying: ‘One must search for even the smallest morsel of good, no matter how bad the situation might seem.’ Searching wasn't as hard as one might think, she decided with a smile.

  The next day, Thorton informed Blake she did not wish to go partying. In return he informed her it was her idea, that she was the reason they were in damnable London. Then he told her-actually it was more like a command-that she would attend these functions with him. That was the same night he took pleasure in informing her their two nights a week had been increased to nightly jaunts.

  It was the next night out that she found her morsel.

  Their nightly performances reminded her of a session out on the training field. Except that on the dance floor, she used a different form of body language ... a more feminine approach. Seductive smiles, teasing touches, and smoldering glances that spoke more loudly than any words, told him precisely what she was thinking and what she wanted.

  When they danced Thorton would brush against him in a sensual, provocative way. It thrilled her to know he was not immune to her after all. She loved to see the fire leap to life in the depth of his eyes. Instantly, a fine sheen of sweat would cover his face as he tried to gain control over himself and his uneven breathing.

  Night after night, when they returned home, she waited for him to come to her, but still he had not. For hours she lay listening for any movement coming from the adjoining chamber, until finally she drifted asleep wondering if he truly were a beast.

  The next evening would find them performing once again. It was becoming a maddening process. It was time to set her best plans into motion. Games had never been to her liking, but she disliked losing even less. Now it was time for war.

  She stared at her reflection in the mirror and smiled. Mistress Andreans had certainly outdone herself with this superb creation, she thought gaily. The white silk gown fell in straight lines, the décolleté was cut far lower then any of her other gowns, barely covering her breast. Blake was going to hate it, which made Thorton love it. She had her new maid, Sarah, curl her hair and twine silver ribbons throughout the red tresses.

  “Oh, Milady,” Sarah breathed, as she carried Thorton's black fur cloak over her arms. “You look like a princess.”

  Thorton patted the young woman's hand and smiled. “I feel like a princess in this dress. I've never owned a gown so beautiful,” she whispered, looking at her reflection. And I probably never will again, Thorton thought, for Blake would surely destroy this one.

  “Is my husband waiting for me downstairs?”

  “Yes, mum.” Sarah placed the cloak over Thorton's shoulders.

  “Not just yet.” Thorton took the heavy cloak and laid it across the bed. “I'm not ready.”

  “But you look lovely, Milady.”

  “Thank you.” Thorton sat down.

  Sarah's large eyes widened. “Is there something wrong, mum?”

  Thorton swallowed her laughter at Sarah's confused look. She had not wanted a ma
id, but she had to admit she did like this woman, with her friendly smiles and easy manner. “There's nothing wrong. The rest of the evening is yours to do with as you will. I won't be needing your assistance tonight.”

  “Are you sure, Milady?”

  “Quite. Now go on with you and enjoy yourself.”

  “Thank you, Milady.” Sarah bobbed a hasty curtsy and hurried out the door.

  Twenty minutes later, Thorton made her way downstairs. She was a true believer that, the longer one had to wait, the more edgy one got, and she wanted Blake so edgy he would be frazzled beyond repair.

  “They are waiting in the drawing room, Milady,” Griggs said, coming up beside her.

  “Thank you,” she replied, sending him an impish smile.

  Blake was pacing the room. His eyes kept straying to the doorway with every creak the old house made. She had Blake so rattled that, by the time they reached home, he would drink himself to sleep to keep from going to her.

  “Gentlemen, are we ready?” Thorton asked softly from the doorway.

  Blake scowled at her radiant smile. How dare she come sailing into the room wearing that infernal grin? “Where the devil have you been?”

  “Good evening to you, too, Baron.” With a slight turn of her head, she gave the appearance of dismissing him as she smiled at Roger and Lucas. Since the night of her and Blake's disagreement, Lucas had gone to every party with them. The ladies of the ton couldn't seem to get enough of him. “My what handsome figures the ... three of you make.”

  “Save flattery for later. We're late,” Roger grumbled and winked.

  “How rude of me to keep such handsome rogues waiting.” Thorton returned his wink, causing Roger to burst out laughing. “Shall we go?”

  Blake's scowl grew as he watched her banter with his father. What a witch. He had started this contest of wills as a way of putting her in her place, to show her what price her pity had cost. Was it worth having to endure his attention? His touches? His public lovemaking?

  Somehow the wench had turned the tables, and was driving him crazy with desire every time she came near him. It was torture having her brush against him while dancing, or having her raise his hand to her face so she could kiss the palm while the ton looked on.