Tempted

by Rita Thedford

  When he began another, she studied him from beneath her lashes and let memory flow over the day's events. Watching his strong hands enfolding the leather volume, she recalled the feel of his long, elegant fingers stroking her skin.

  A shiver took her at the erotic images that thought evoked. How many other women had he touched in such a way? Elizabeth felt the sharp curl of jealousy sink talons into her heart.

  That he was knowledgeable in ways to please the opposite sex was a certainty for a man as handsome and well traveled as Christian. He laughed at a quip. His teeth flashed strong and white, bringing to memory the way he'd nipped at her skin, pleasured her with lips and tongue.

  Why should she not marry him?

  The niggling thought worried at her brain. Because of a vow she'd made to never marry? The vow seemed somewhat silly now. Christian was a dangerous man indeed, but not a man who would purposely hurt women. No, he wasn't the sort to prove his masculinity by hurting those physically weaker. He was a man comfortable with his size and strength, at ease with his power and intellect.

  He was a man any woman would be proud to stand beside for the rest of her life.

  Heart pounding a rapid beat at the unfolding revelation, she fought new and overwhelming feelings. Just looking at the man made her body ache, her heart quiver with need. Need? When had she ever needed anyone? She'd been the one who was strong and ready to do battle in defense of her family. And she'd done quite well at it, thank you very much!

  If they were to wed and Christian learned of her illegal activities on London's streets, what would he think of her? Would he make her stop?

  Of course, he would! His greatest quality was the manner in which he protected others. In that way, they were much the same.

  Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes, suddenly feeling the effects of the harried day. Logs crackled in the fireplace and warmth enveloped her. Christian's deep voice curled about her like a cozy blanket. Helpless to do otherwise, she closed her eyes and let herself drift.

  Christian looked up after closing the book and smiled. Elizabeth slept. How beautiful and innocent she seemed. Placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward Elizabeth, and the ladies in attendance smiled and cast conspiratorial looks at each other. Quietly, they stood and exited toward the dining room.

  "Are you certain you cannot stay for dinner?” Kathleen asked. “Surely you must eat something before the ride into London."

  "No, we must be off. This day has not only been a trial for us, but for Elizabeth's parents as well."

  Caroline alone remained behind and watched solemnly as he turned to wake Elizabeth. A cunning gleam lit her blue eyes. “You are much in love with her, are you not?"

  In love? Christian's eyes widened as the words hit him like a punch in the gut. His world reeled. Readily, he acknowledged wanting Elizabeth to fall in love with him. Things would proceed more smoothly if she felt love, yet himself? No, he wasn't ready to be a slave to those tender feelings. “I ... uh—"

  "It is all right, Your Grace,” she said with a nod. “You need not answer, for your expression speaks for itself. In my experience, men do not readily admit to having more delicate emotions."

  He managed a faint smile. “Women are indeed most intuitive creatures. I do care for Elizabeth and believe we suit."

  Caroline just laughed and surprised him by patting his arm. “Yes, I believe you care for her, you naughty man. I also believe that you sorely misjudge her. I have come to know Elizabeth, and she is not a woman to let herself be vulnerable unless the man she loves, loves her in return."

  He watched as Caroline left, then turned back to a sleeping Elizabeth. Love him? Did she love him?

  It was a provocative thought and one that warmed him to his toes. For him, love had been an elusive thing since the untimely death of his mother. The hurt that had accompanied it had left him wary of truly giving his affection. Could Elizabeth's feelings, if indeed she had them, change all that? Visions of a future bright with love and happiness brought a quick rush of tears to his eyes.

  Perhaps he could, at last, stop traveling the world in search of peace and finally shake off the deep hatred he felt for his father. Christian hoped that, by becoming a husband and hopefully a parent, he might come to believe that a man didn't necessarily inherit the weaknesses of his sire.

  It was late. He was tired and becoming maudlin. Pushing aside all thoughts but one, he bent to Elizabeth and, with a tender touch, kissed her awake.

  Eleven

  The Countess Fitzgerald lounged indolently among the sheets of her rumpled bed and watched Park from beneath lowered lids. He was fully aware of her regard and knew he'd pleased her between the sheets. She believed him dull-witted, just one spoke short of a functioning wheel, but her beliefs simply worked to his advantage. All was going according to plan.

  "Have I told you how lovely you look this morning?” he asked from his position at the foot of her bed. He raked his gaze over her body and watched her preen.

  Vain bitch!

  "Yes, my handsome fellow, but you may tell me again."

  He laughed. “Very well then. You look lovely this morning."

  Beatrice licked her lips, apparently satisfied by the praise, and settled back among her pillows. Plucking the morning issue of The Times from her breakfast tray, she reclined, sighing as the crackle of paper accompanied the clink of Park's cup touching saucer.

  He watched her turn immediately to the gossip section.

  "Umm. Very interesting. Listen, Park! Seems Lord Marchmont has a new light-of-love and he has fought a duel over the stupid chit. One wonders what Lady Marchmont thinks of such an occurrence."

  "I would imagine she knows very little about it as the Countess is noted for being a bit vague. The laudanum addiction, no doubt.” He set aside his breakfast plate and stood to stretch his tired muscles. As planned, her attention returned to him.

  "Just look at all that golden skin,” she murmured. “However do you manage to get that way, Park. It is quite unusual. You truly are an exquisite specimen and all mine. My own personal plaything. How lucky for me."

  He hid a grimace of distaste as she returned her attention to the gossip at hand. Easily dismissed again, he thought, as a quick flash of anger came and went. Effectively masking his pique, he turned to the service trolley and lifted a silver pot. “More chocolate, love?"

  "Hmm?” She looked up from the paper, once again distracted. “I suppose."

  As the sweet liquid splashed at the bottom of her china cup, thick steam rolled fragrantly upward. Giving her the cup, he went to a nearby chair and sprawled naked, crossing his legs at the ankle. He gazed around the decadent boudoir, letting his mind wander, while she read.

  Bea's chamber bore the mark of a whore. Resembling a sultan's harem, the walls were veiled with silken fabrics in bright fuscia and purple. Erotic statuary obscenely graced both table and floor, making him wince.

  Once he won Christian's wealth and title, he would entertain himself with virginal debutantes. The cream of society, one of the loveliest and most gentile would be his bride. Never again would he settle for coarse women who made him feel dirty at their slightest touch.

  Lady Fitzgerald truly was a pathetic female. Realistically, he knew he was no better. After all, he'd become a man who gave himself to women and let himself become whatever they wanted.

  Without her knowing, he gave Bea a long hard look. Beneath her diaphanous shell-pink peignoir, she was naked and pale. The self-indulgent bitch pictured herself some sort of goddess, he supposed, for she had definitely rouged the nipples of her slightly sagging breasts. There was nothing more pathetic than an older woman attempting to revisit her youth.

  Beatrice looked up. “You seem deep in thought, Park, but you couldn't be, could you?"

  She laughed at her jest, and he felt his anger surge anew, hot and molten. He was well aware she thought him stupid. Soon she would learn the truth.

  He smiled innocently, comfortable with the cha
rade he must play. “I was merely admiring your beauty. I am a lucky fellow."

  Old hag!

  Park gloated privately at his thoughts and only wished it was time to speak them aloud. But not yet!

  Beatrice, with her wicked, manipulative mind, would help him gain what he needed to live. Title and fortune. Once accomplished, he would never again need to lower himself to servicing women he detested.

  Remembering how his life had progressed to this point, he was sickened to the point of pain.

  Making his way to a small basin of water, he found a fresh bar of sandalwood soap and gave it an appreciative sniff. Seemed the she-wolf could be considerate if it suited her mood. Lathering a soft cloth, he washed.

  Sometime later, a screech of rage rent the air, disturbing his quiet enjoyment as Beatrice flew from the bed, arms slashing wildly through the air like a woman possessed.

  Razor halted midair, Park froze. “Wha—"

  "You dolt!” she cried, hitting him about the face and shoulders with her copy of The Times. “How could you let this happen?"

  "What? What! Stop that! Are you crazed?"

  The paper disassembled as it fluttered to the floral carpet.

  "The bans have been read, Park. Christian and Elizabeth have become engaged."

  His eyes rounded as he put down the razor and wiped his half-shaven face with a towel. “Surely not! We were so careful to watch every move."

  Bea slapped at his chest. Her face was mottled with rage, making her quite unattractive. Knowing he must calm her before she did him harm, he clasped her wrists and brought them behind her back. Urging her against his bare chest, he cajoled her before she lost control completely.

  "Do not upset yourself, darling,” he said. “Come sit with me and we shall discuss this calmly, rationally.” He coaxed her to the edge of the bed and urged her to lean against him.

  "Bloody Hell!” she raged. “What could we have done to prevent this?"

  "Nothing. It is Stephen whom we must blame in this matter. Obviously, he has failed in seducing the lady from beneath my cousin's nose."

  Bea looked up, her dark eyes flashing retribution. “Drat that boy!"

  "Over and done with, my dear. It occurs to me that we shall have to use our wits to accomplish our goals."

  "Yes! It is time to bare our claws.” Bea flounced off the bed to pace.

  Leaning back among the pillows she'd abandoned, he crossed his arms behind his head and watched. “Tell me, Bea, is there any truth to the rumor that Christian's Chinese mistress lives with him?"

  "How should I know?"

  Park chuckled at last. “Perhaps we should learn the truth of the matter, hmm? It would be simple enough to hire someone to discover the validity of the gossip."

  Her returning grin was pure evil. “Why, darling! Sometimes you surprise me utterly."

  He shrugged. “Even if the gossip is nothing but a lie, it is entirely possible Miss Grayson has not heard a snippet."

  "Quite true and what of Elizabeth's feud with Lord Stanhope?” Beatrice suddenly wore a complacent look. “We are not defeated yet, Park. Stephen may have disappointed us, but I vow we shall not lose in our endeavor. I witnessed a recent confrontation between Stanhope and our Elizabeth, and it makes me wonder. Do you suppose they were once lovers? Could that be a reason for their animosity?"

  Park shuddered. “Hard to imagine the two of them together, yet who would have paired him with the other one? Charlotte. She was every bit as lovely as her twin. I daresay it would not be hard to learn the story."

  Warming to a wild idea, Beatrice began to speculate, pale eyes shining. “Could there be a connection to Charlotte's death, do you think? What if Edward and Elizabeth were in love and together murdered the sister? How delicious! That, no doubt, would send her to Newgate Prison and a date with the hangman despite her family's wealth. She would be dead, and Christian left without a bride. But we must be circumspect. Everyone has a skeleton or two in their closet. We should be certain to investigate every possibility."

  Spirits lifted now that all was not lost, Park smiled wickedly in return. “Poor Edward is not accepted in any home among the Ton. Friendless fellow that he is, he could surely use a boon companion, and I can always use another friend, my dear. Consider it done."

  * * * *

  "I must say that you are looking most victorious this evening, lad,” Lord Henry said with a broad grin. “Harnessing a dragon, or should I say dragoness, is never an easy feat. A true and fearless knight! My congratulations."

  Grinning triumphantly, Christian took the proffered drink and took a biting sip. Though it had taken some doing, he was officially an engaged man and none to soon. With his birthday looming, he must now find a way to hurry the nuptials along. Already, he had obtained a special license from the Archbishop. There would be no long engagement.

  "Thank you, Henry. Taming lady dragons happens to be a specialty of mine. I am only sorry that she was compromised."

  Henry settled himself in a chair and waved a slender, elegant hand. “Nonsense. I, dear boy, am not. Had you not come along when you did, my angel might have been killed. And seeking shelter from the storm was your only alternative. There is nothing contrived about that."

  Christian propped an elbow on the mantle and stared into the flames. “Yes. I wish only that she could have been spared the attack.” Turning his eyes to his future father-in-law, he gave him a piercing look. “Be assured, sir, that I plan to hunt the brigands down like the dogs they are. Edward, too. You and I both know that he was behind this, as he was in the other attack."

  Henry lowered dark brows and scowled. “Perhaps he shall desist now that Elizabeth is under your protection."

  "Perhaps. But it does not really matter. I will destroy him."

  "And well you should.” Henry softened his posture, and Christian noted the weariness that surrounded the man like an aura. “I should have dealt with Edward long ago.” He looked into Christian's eyes. “He murdered Charlotte. Murdered our entire family, if I am to be blunt."

  "You are not a coward, my lord.” Christian moved forward and took a seat nearby. Bending forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands between them. “It is not healthy for you to relive this over in your mind. You did the correct thing at the time by remaining steadfast for your wife and living daughter. Believe me, sir, it is not good to dwell on things one cannot change."

  Henry's gaze sharpened. “You speak from experience, do you not?"

  Leaning back, Christian reached for his drink again and took a slow sip. “I could have done nothing to help my mother rouse from her deep melancholy. I was just a boy. As a man, I know this, but then, guilt consumed me that I could not stand up to my father and rage at him for what he'd done to her."

  "There is truth in what you say. Your mother was a fine woman and very much liked by my Millicent. Millicent worried you know."

  "Worried?"

  "Alice was such a delicate creature and so easily hurt. Your father was not an easy man."

  Christian gave a humorless laugh. “How very well I know it. I grieved over her death to the point of madness until I realized there was nothing I could have done to change what happened. Elizabeth must learn this, too."

  "You may very well be the one to teach her. Good luck to you. Perhaps you will succeed where I have failed."

  * * * *

  Elizabeth stood in front of a full-length mirror to adjust the tiny straps of her Worth creation. Of course, there was nothing wrong with the straps, but she needed to keep her fingers occupied or they would twitch. A ball of nerves had formed in the pit of her stomach, reminding her that she wasn't as tough as she liked to pretend.

  Her mother, wearing an evening gown of deep emerald, sat perched upon the edge of the bed, a satisfied smile on her face. “It must be fate, darling!"

  "Hmm?"

  "The dress. How opportune that it arrived just in time for your first appearance with your betrothed, and the Archers always h
ave such splendid soirées. The affair shall be a crush. It is wonderful to see you look your best."

  "Looking my best is not a priority, Mama,” she said to her mother's reflection. “Remaining upright beneath this bout of nerves is my first concern."

  "Bosh!” Millicent rose in a rustle of taffeta and went to fiddle with a pearl-headed pin in Elizabeth's up-swept hair. “What have you to be nervous about, my love? You are betrothed to the most handsome young Duke in England and soon you will wed. It is all so very delightful. So very romantic."

  "Mmm.” Knowing argument with her marriage-minded mama would be useless, Elizabeth closed her eyes and prayed for strength. Tonight, she realized, would not be the most critical encounter between Christian and herself. True, it was difficult for her to lie outright and tonight's appearance as a betrothed couple was most certainly that. No, the hardest part of the future would be telling Christian, finally, that she would not marry, compromised or no.

  For now, he and her parents pushed the issue, but they would soon learn that she wasn't a woman to be pushed.

  Was she just being stubborn by avoiding what she most wanted?

  A tender, soft sort of feeling ran through her as she foolishly let fantasy overtake good sense.

  "The gown is lovely, though, is it not?” She couldn't help admiring the extravagant creation. Never would she have chosen a virginal ivory, but as a backdrop for long-stemmed, watercolor roses it was dashing. Splashes of color waved from hem to mid-thigh, dancing among bursts of seed pearls that scattered unobtrusively upon the ivory silk.

  What would Christian think when he saw her?

  As if answering her unspoken question, Millicent smiled softly and stroked Elizabeth's bare shoulder. “Christian will want to eat you up like a raspberry ice, Lizzie."

  Unable to help herself, Elizabeth shivered. Firelight and kisses. Wicked touches and erotic words. All of it, every word, every touch sifted through her mind making her regret, for just a moment, that she must someday soon say good-bye.