Tempted

by Rita Thedford

  Everyone stood as Elizabeth went to him. “How is she?"

  Wellsby ran short, stubby fingers through what was left of his silver hair. He shook his head. “Not well, I fear. Not only is her fever severe, the burns show the beginnings of infection. That, coupled with her recent delivery of a child, have left the poor dear incredibly weak."

  "Is there anything we can do?” Ann asked, her young face alight with worry.

  Doctor Wellsby accepted a cup of tea from Harriet and nodded his thanks. “Simply do what you can to see to her comfort. I have given instructions to your Mrs. Brown for cold compresses and given her laudanum to keep Mary sedated. A salve for the burns may help as well. With your permission, I will stay with her through the night."

  "Certainly. Thank you, doctor,” Elizabeth said. “Please, sir, do accept our invitation to tea."

  When the doctor was settled with his tea and a plate of pastries, Elizabeth said her goodbyes and made her way to the front door, Pandora beside her.

  "Shall we call on Bailsworthy this night, m'lady?"

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, not tonight. Today has been much too tiring, and I must first be sure of Mary's health. Three days hence, perhaps, but this time I shall go alone."

  "My lady!” Pandora gasped. “Please do not attempt this alone. What if something should go wrong?"

  "Nothing will go wrong, I promise. I simply couldn't live with myself if something should go awry with Mary and I would feel much better knowing you are close by.” She put on her riding gloves and pinned her hat into place, a frown knitting her brow. “Stay here. Mrs. Brown will need help, no doubt, and I don't want to burden the others. Each has serious troubles of her own.

  "My plan for Bailsworthy is to follow him as he moves from hell to hell. It is said he wins with regularity. Once his pockets are full of guineas, I will nab him, and Kathleen will have a small nest egg for her and her babe."

  Pandora pouted, but gave her mistress a nod. “As you wish, but I do not like this. It is too dangerous."

  "Hah. When have you lately seen a whit of fear from the likes of me?"

  "That is what worries me, m'lady. You should be afraid."

  "I thrive on danger, Pandora. It has become a part of my life now to the extent that I have time for nothing else."

  "Not even love? Even I have come to realize the handsome Duke desires you above all others,” Pandora said, her velvety brown eyes dark with concern. “He took care of you after that swine attacked from afar. For that alone, he has my undying gratitude, and I would hate to see you lose a chance for something special with him. Perhaps he is not the rake society paints him."

  "Pandy, please! Christian is not a man whom I wish to discuss when my mind is set on tormenting Lord Bailsworthy.” Elizabeth lifted her chin as she plucked a nonexistent bit of thread from her sleeve. “Besides, I am sure that, as of several hours ago, he has washed his hands of me as I failed to present myself for tea. He is not a man easily rebuffed and will no doubt take offense at my failure to attend him. Perhaps now, he will find another lady to torment."

  Pandora shook her head and grinned. “Oh, that he might torment me! What a handsome bit of man he is. Have I mentioned lately that you are insane?"

  Elizabeth laughed outright. “Only about a hundred times.” Glancing at the sky, she frowned. “Truly, I must be off before the rain comes. Already I smell dampness in the air, and it is a long ride home. Send for me if there is news on Mary."

  "Yes, I shall. Be careful and do not forget Mrs. Brown's key above the door of her cottage. Should it rain, you may have need of shelter."

  With that last bit of advice, Elizabeth mounted Majesty and rode down the graveled drive toward London as storm clouds threatened.

  A crack of lightning lit the sky, and Majesty shied nervously. Leaning over his neck, Elizabeth soothed him with a soft whisper in his ear. “Shh, boy. There is nothing to worry about. There now, that's a good fellow."

  Tugging off her riding gloves, she stroked his long neck with her hands, and the magnificent black snuffled softly as he stilled along the dirt road. Looking skyward, she frowned at the darkening clouds. It might be necessary, after all, to stop at Mrs. Brown's abandoned cottage to wait out the coming storm. Sighing a bit, she straightened in the saddle and fought the urge to race along the quiet road at full speed. A measure of unease crawled down her spine. Since leaving Charlotte House, the sensation of being studied had followed her trek toward home and safety. It felt as if hundreds of eyes watched her every move.

  Silly!

  She tried to laugh at herself. Surely the events of last week had made her more nervous than she would've preferred. Elizabeth couldn't help secretly imagining villains behind every bush.

  But this time, Christian wasn't around to save her!

  Christian!

  Why could she not erase the man from her mind? Even now with worries over Mary and her planned attack on Lord Bailsworthy, she failed to keep the handsome scoundrel from her thoughts.

  Sighing a little at the memory of his hands on her body, she allowed herself to remember how good his arms had felt around her, as Majesty trotted sedately past a grove of ancient oaks.

  Never having been kissed before, it was impossible to imagine another man's lips thrilling her as Christian's had done. Would it truly be so awful to have a gentleman in her life? No, not really, she reckoned, as she relived again that quivering feeling he'd given her. Curiosity was a strange and dangerous thing. And without a doubt, Christian had whetted it with a vengeance. Damn his beautiful hide! He had taught her to want, to need. The bloody man had taught her the meaning of lust and desire. Surely that was what it had been. Lust and desire.

  Always rational, Elizabeth knew those feelings were more natural than that elusive thing called love. No, love was a fairy tale only ... a fairy tale believed by naïve and dreamy young women like Charlotte, who now lay cold in the grave because of it. Love was a deadly thing to be devoutly avoided.

  But an affair?

  Now that might be an answer to her dilemma. Since she never planned to marry and love was not an option, perhaps it might be beneficial to consider something wicked and illicit.

  Just as Elizabeth shook her head with a smile, a burly man leaped into the lane and shouted with a wild waving of hands.

  Screaming once, Elizabeth clutched at Majesty's reins as he bolted. Within a trice, she fell to the dusty ground as a rumble of thunder rent the humid air. Landing in a flurry of skirts, she lay supine as the sound of Majesty's well-shod hooves pounded a quick tattoo along the length of the road.

  Jerked quickly upright, her eyes flew open to gaze into small beady ones that glinted with evil intent.

  "Well now, ain't ye a pretty piece?” the man slurred, grinning at her through rotted teeth. “I jest knew deep in me soul that this job might be a pleasant diversion."

  "Release me at once,” Elizabeth demanded in an erratic voice.

  The cretin with the bulbous nose laughed uproariously, blowing his foul breath into her face. “No, no, sweet piece. Not till I've ‘ad me way. Got me a little sticker, I do. Matter-of-fact, ye little twit, got me two stickers."

  Tossing her back to the ground, he pulled a slim stiletto from within his boot as he stood over her. Holding it up for emphasis, he reached down to grab his crotch in a lewd exhibit, laughing uproariously at his own wit.

  Fear tore through her as she reached blindly for the hidden pocket in her skirt. The tiny pistol lay, as it always did, just within reach. Calmly, she reached inside as the burly, pock-faced man advanced.

  "'Ere, Shorty. Gimme a hand with this one. She's a wildcat fer sure."

  From a clump of hawthorns, a skinny and filthy man crept forward. With eyes that darted in every direction, he glanced once at the lecherous look on his companion's face and hurried to grab Elizabeth's hands. With a grunt, he jerked her arms overhead, making it impossible for her to grab her little gun.

  Claws of fear dragged a cry from her throat
as the huge man tossed her skirts. Terrified of what was to come, she cringed, writhing in an effort to draw away.

  "Won't help none, me fine lady,” he crooned, bending over her, the wicked knife winking in his fist. “I'll be stickin’ ye good, first with me cock, then with me blade. But ye won't be feelin’ a thin’ after ye swoon with pleasure from me other big stick."

  The skinny man holding her arms above her head giggled like a young girl. “Me next, Mott. Ye promised!"

  "Yeah, yeah. Ye'll git some of ‘er, too. Stop yer blatherin’ and keep ‘er arms still. She's twitchin’ like a harnessed bee, she is!"

  Feeling as if she watched the horror from afar, Elizabeth twisted violently. Tears of rage coursed her face as she spat at Mott. The man just laughed and groped clumsily between her legs, finding the slit in her drawers. It was as if that invasion ignited her fury. Railing obscenities at his head, she fought like a tigress until his fist connected with her jaw. Rendered momentarily senseless, she lay limp and unresponsive as his knife ripped through the fabric of her spencer. Then the blade made another dip to rip away the bodice of her dress.

  "Cor. Look at them titties, Shorty."

  Elizabeth screamed as he leaned closer, teeth gnashing as if he meant to bite her. Arching wildly, unable to fight, she felt his fetid breath, the erection he'd bared. Knowing the imminent threat of rape, she bit her lip and tasted blood.

  Christian's face loomed vividly within her brain. Where was her hero now?

  * * * *

  After a frantic search through the city, Christian finally found her direction. Riding outside of London, worry and anger tearing at him, he managed to follow her trail to the sedate manor house.

  Waiting in the bushes, he watched the beauty go inside as if she owned the place. What was she doing? Meeting a lover? Stephen, perhaps?

  Rage, hot and red, bubbled within him. Was she so desperate to avoid his company? From the way she'd clung when they last met, he doubted it. No, she was afraid of him. Of what he made her feel.

  Oh, it was only the beginning of what he would make her feel. A lover of legend, Christian knew his way around a woman's body. It wouldn't be long now, he thought with a sly smile, and he would have her panting in his arms. Yes, he would easily compromise her and honor would demand they marry. Soon, yes soon. He would have his wife and a lover to fill his bed for all eternity.

  Intently, he watched the house until she finally exited. For a moment or two, she talked with her maid then mounted her horse. Christian couldn't help but admire the way she looked atop the beautiful stallion. Carriage like a queen, Elizabeth was the picture of feminine strength.

  As she rode past him, Christian watched before making his way to the manor itself. Without a qualm, he stalked the house, peering in windows. If she'd met a lover, there was no evidence of it. Several women hovered over an elderly gent. Drinking tea and talking, the women acted as if they belonged here.

  No. Elizabeth had not met a man here. Flushed with relief, Christian returned to the brush and mounted his horse. Riding after her, he plotted the method of his revenge.

  The chit had gone too far. Taunting him with her lush body then failing to appear for a simple meeting at tea. Her thoughtless actions had frightened her parents and for that alone, he planned to meet out justice.

  Sensing her nearness, he slowed his horse and studied his surroundings. A storm threatened. Just like her to flaunt every safety measure and ride into the midst of danger. Cursing, he spurred his mount, visions of Elizabeth racked with coughs from the ague.

  Ears pricked, Sultan slowed his pace, and Christian felt danger in the air. A soft cry pierced the subtle stillness of the impending storm, and his hackles rose in response.

  Dismounting quickly, he dashed into the surrounding landscape, a silent cry reverberating in his mind. She was in trouble. He knew it in every fabric of his being.

  No more than one hundred yards away, he stopped and a primal snarl lifted his lips.

  Two criminals, filthy and foul, had her on the dirty ground. White, perfect breasts were exposed as one of the cretins bent to sink filthy teeth into his Elizabeth. Another man, skinny and small, giggled maniacally as he held her twisting arms.

  Drawing his pistol with his left hand, Christian leaped into the fray, catching both men unaware. With a savage cry, he pulled back his fist, connecting with the burly man's jaw.

  Cursing madly, Mott sprawled backwards into the dusty road just as the first hard raindrops fell. His companion in crime released Elizabeth's arms with a loud yelp and ran as Christian's shot went wild.

  Elizabeth struggled to her knees and drew a tiny gun from within the folds of her tattered dress. Before he could blink, she pulled the trigger. The fat man's naked ass running away proved a large, white target for her bullet. A spray of blood accompanied his yelp as Christian grabbed him and tackled him to the ground. One punch then two, crashed into his heavy jaw.

  Pummeling the beast sent a surge of satisfaction coursing through Christian. Vile curses spilled from the criminal's mouth as he fought back. Christian saw his battered, bloodied face through a red haze of fury. Lifting the debaucher, he once again pounded his fist against the man's mouth. A thick stream of blood stained his crooked teeth and his spit splattered Christian's coat.

  "Christian! Behind you!"

  Elizabeth's cry made him glance in her direction. The other man, the skinny one, held a huge rock over his head. Seconds before Christian would have been bashed in the head, Elizabeth's gun made another popping retort. The skinny one dropped the rock with a yelp and, grabbing his wounded shoulder, sprinted toward the forest beyond.

  His attention diverted, Christian stared at Elizabeth for a split second, and the fat man tore free from his grasp. Despite his girth and bloodied condition, he stumbled away, following the trail of his partner in crime. Yelling loudly, their curses were soon followed by the thudding of horses’ hooves.

  Pale as milk, Elizabeth staggered to her feet and stared at him, apparently dazed, the tiny gun dangling from her hand, her dress in tatters. She looked a rain-drenched goddess surrounded by mists of rain and green foliage. He could only stare. The woman took his breath away.

  Nothing seemed more important than sweeping her into his arms, worshipping her as she deserved. He needed to chase away thoughts of her attackers and bring her back into herself. For, in truth, she seemed stunned. She made no effort to conceal her nakedness. Arms straight at her side, her eyes were dazed, vague.

  "Are you all right, love?” The huskiness of his voice surprised him.

  She didn't answer, but simply swayed in one place, her eyes locked to his. Knowing he must go to her or die, he quickly approached. “Come. Let me help you."

  He ignored the dripping hair that sent rivulets of rainwater into his eyes as he gripped her shoulders. Mindful of her bare breasts, he concentrated on her stricken face and gently cradled it. Noting her fragility, he needed a word from her, anything to show she knew what was happening.

  As she swayed dangerously, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her trembling body against him in a steadying embrace. “There now, you're safe, sweeting. They shan't be back, I promise."

  Elizabeth lifted her head, teasing his nostrils with the scent of wildflowers and sage, and gazed blankly into his eyes. “Did I get him?"

  "Which one?"

  "The fat man with the bad teeth. Did I get him?"

  An instant vision regenerated as he recalled the villain running from the scene of his perfidy. A slight smile graced Christian's lips. “Yes, I believe you shot him in the ass with that little gun of yours."

  "Ah, wonderful. That was where I aimed."

  "Fantastic shot, my dear."

  "Yes, I did well. Good for me."

  With that final statement, her eyes rolled back, and she fainted dead away.

  Eight

  A bolt of jagged, bright yellow lightning slashed wildly across the background of deep gray sky as An Li rested her cheek against th
e cool glass and sighed. Though a woman of sunlight, she couldn't help but admire the bright flash, the angry rumble of thunder, and the life-giving wetness of the lashing rain outside.

  Always more comfortable alone than with others, she clutched a leather-bound book tightly to her chest and kept her gaze on the gardens just outside the French doors of Christian's study. They were cracked open just a bit, and the bite of fresh air settled on her cheeks like a caress. She liked this room. There was a comforting smell about the place, a coziness she'd never known.

  Yellow jonquils, purple irises, and a huge array of vivid, red tulips in the garden beyond showed nature's resilience as they bowed beneath the pounding rain only to proudly rise again, as if welcoming the challenge of survival.

  She was a survivor herself and easily accepted the fact. A child of nature, she had much in common with the fragile blooms just outside. Christian had many times over convinced her of that fact. Yes, she was free now and living a life more luxurious than she'd ever dreamed, yet she wondered now, as the rain roared an angry tune, what more was left to a woman with no honor?

  Silly thoughts. Destructive.

  Bolstering herself, drawing in a deep breath of fresh, rain-swept air, she drew her mind from the melancholy path it took. Forcing a smile, she turned from the garden view and sank, once again, into a large, luxuriously upholstered chair.

  Curling her bare feet within that welcome comfort, An Li opened her book and lost herself in a romantic tale of knights and their ladies. Oh, to be loved and treasured as those lofty heroines!

  In her young life, her world had taken many twists and turns, yet the most wondrous turn of all had been the day Christian had begun to teach her to read. Ship-bound and restless on the long voyage from China, he had filled those desolate hours with the wonder of words.

  Reading made An Li feel smart, so she read voraciously and though it hadn't eliminated her mutilation of the English language, she knew more about the world around her. As she didn't often venture out, she spent her time mentally living the adventures of fantasy characters. Often they were beautiful, honorable, and graced with courage that she would never possess.