"Hiding, love?"
Twisting around, she stared into Christian's smoky eyes, realizing they were quite alone in the depths of the garden. Fighting for composure after the startle he gave her, she felt her tongue stumble over words. “Umm. No. No, I'm not. Just catching a breath."
"And perhaps catching the ague as well?” A well-formed black brow arched over one eye. “It is damned cold tonight, Elizabeth. Where is your good sense?"
She stiffened at the gibe. With icy composure, she said, “I beg your pardon."
He laughed darkly and ran his warm hands lightly over her chilled arms. “Did you think that you might postpone our nuptials by making yourself ill?"
"I am not a child to play childish games."
"Mmm. You certainly look like a fully grown woman to me,” he purred softly, allowing his eyes to drift over the length of her body, pausing only briefly at her near-naked bosom.
She shivered, but not from the cold.
Uncomfortable with the building heat between them, she sank back beneath the full branches of an oak and leaned there. When he merely followed her into the hidden bower, she realized her mistake.
Seeing the dark intent in his eyes, she felt her body quiver. “Please,” she whispered. “Not here. Not now."
"Why?” His voice was intense. Feral. Like a wolf pursuing his mate, his breath was hot against her throat, his body hard, as she lifted a hand to his chest to warn him off. Closing in, he effectively captured her hand between their bodies. She felt rock-hard thighs press intimately against her own, and the heat was unbearable, bringing to mind the way he'd intimately pressed his member against her much softer skin.
On that chilly, rainy day in the cottage his body had burned against her like flame igniting a fire storm within her.
Tonight it was the same.
A frantic feeling bloomed to life within her as he insinuated his knee between her legs and pressed it to the very core of her body. “Your parents are not here to save you, love. Before leaving, they bade me tell you to enjoy the remainder of the evening. And so you shall."
He pressed again, just there. Just at the molten, quivering core of her, and she moaned softly at the vibrancy of his touch. He buried his face into the curve of her neck and licked a tantalizing little circle of dampness against her skin.
With a despairing whimper, she gave herself to the demands he made. “Christian? Why do you do this to me? Why now?"
She cried out as he pressed again, urging her to move against his leg.
"You are too contained tonight.” He teased her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, then nipped with his teeth. “It pleases me to unravel that core of reserve. I want you wild in my arms."
"But-but there are others."
"Not now. We are quite alone, and by God, I will taste you or die."
With his hungry groan vibrating against her sensitized skin, she shivered wildly. He took her mouth in a mad plunge and simply devoured. She heard the small distressed sound she made as, like velvet insanity, he stroked his tongue within the depths of her mouth.
Hungry.
He seemed a man famished for nourishment, and she was the banquet. Groaning low, his breath hot against her throat, he fisted his hands in her gown and drew it upward over limbs. “Tell me how I'm to last until our wedding night."
"You shouldn't do this,” she breathed in frenzied words. She trembled in his arms.
Christian moved his lips against the pulse at the base of her throat. “I must. You want me to touch you. Admit it."
Long-fingered hands cupped the underside of her buttocks, yards of ivory silk were gathered around her waist. Her skin burned like flame beneath his taunting fingers as he plucked between her thighs. She cried out helplessly as her body grew wet, dampening his hand.
Wildly she arched, mindless to feel the spiraling pleasure, the wanton completion she'd known before. As he cupped her breast, teased the nipple with his thumb, she shook with pleasure. He kissed her deeply, and her cry became a mewl, as down below, his fingers worked against her throbbing skin.
Like a pirate seeking treasure, he plundered. When the kiss ended, she looked at him in the darkness and shivered. Determination etched his features as he drew her bodice down and looked at her. Her nipples tightened. Tingled. Her mouth went dry.
He bent to her then, and she sucked in a breath as he raked his teeth gently against skin of her areole. He flicked the underside of her nipple with the tip of his tongue. She writhed and shuddered at the dual assault upon her breasts and between her thighs. Everything within her clenched tight.
"Yes,” he breathed against her breast. “Just a sample, love. This is just a sample of what I can make you feel. Take it.” He returned to her nipple and plucked with his fingers where she felt sensation gather with astounding wildness. Suddenly she tensed as the storm drew her under a relentless wave of feeling. Her soft cry of completion was swallowed up by his demanding mouth.
In the aftermath of the storm, she fell limply against his chest, hearing the thunderous pounding of his heart roar in her ears like ocean meeting shore. Wanting more. Wanting to touch him in return, she bit her lip and slammed her eyes tightly shut, praying for a moment of sanity to return.
Expecting to see his taunting smile, she warily drew back and looked at him. Christian wasn't smiling. No, his face was drawn into intense lines, his eyes were dark, smoldering, and filled with the promise of erotic pleasure.
How could she give up this man? She'd come to love him so. Oh, heavenly God, how could this be? She'd been so careful to avoid him. To avoid caring.
Too late. Too late.
Trembling and embarrassed by her response to his lovemaking, she glanced away.
He tenderly drew her face back and placed a gentle kiss on her damp forehead. “Ah, my sweeting, how you inspire me."
"I in-inspire you?” The feel of his lips against her skin was soothing. A slow languor filled her as her breathing drifted to normal patterns.
Lifting her face with both hands, he gazed solemnly at her. “You inspire me to be a better man, love. A man who can give you the world and ensure you have an important place in it. Already you disavow all common notions that women are nothing more than breeders. Your heart is pure, sweet, and caring. Would that you could share it with me."
"And if I could not?"
He rested his chin on the top of her head and sighed. “Then I should be empty. Less of a man."
He seemed embarrassed by his verbosity. Frowning, he tugged her bodice into place and stepped back as she fussed with the skirts of her gown. Studying her with a critical eye, he finally nodded as if satisfied she wasn't destroyed beyond repair. He placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I shall return to the ballroom while you compose yourself, love. Wait a few moments and follow me."
She nodded, but he'd already strode swiftly across the lawn. She watched him quietly. Her hands shook as she reached to touch her swollen lips. How she trembled. Her face seemed hot, so she touched it, too, marveling at the tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
She bent to retrieve her lace gloves and the beaded reticule that lay on the ground at her feet. Pawing the contents of the small bag, she took out a handkerchief and quickly repaired her face.
Stepping from the shadows, she moved toward the lights of the mansion and took great gulping breaths of air. Pausing at the marbled patio floor, she leaned against the elegant railing and tried to clear her mind of the words Christian had spoken so sincerely. She didn't want to believe or trust him. He was, after all, a man. But hadn't he won at least a portion of her faith? She couldn't help how he made her feel. Cherished. Desired. Heaven above, she would, if he had any say, be the mother of his children. A woman he promised to honor. But hadn't Edward promised to honor Charlotte?
Sighing deeply, Elizabeth looked down at elaborately carved planters filled with vivid pink geraniums that lined the walkway leading into the garden. She stopped to admire, breathing in their pungent scent.
&nb
sp; Suddenly another fragrance filled the air, and she glanced over her shoulder to see a flash of red from a darkened corner of the garden.
A cigar.
In a wild arc, the cheroot took flight and landed on the ground as the man strode into the light.
Gleaming golden, he was a tall, slender man dressed in the height of fashion. Christian's cousin, someone had said. She searched for a name to match the face, but was saved when the man took her hand and bowed low.
"Park Mansfield, my lady,” he murmured quietly. “I'm sorry to impose, but as no one has yet offered introduction, I thought to do it myself. Not quite the thing, but I hope you will forgive my impertinence."
"Nonsense,” she replied. “Polite society often entertains silly rules."
He grinned, showing even white teeth. “You would, of course, be Lady Grayson, my cousin's betrothed."
"Yes."
"Congratulations and welcome to the family."
She glanced down uncomfortably then back at him. She was not used to being engaged under duress, but it served no purpose to embarrass Christian in front of his family. “Thank you. I am surprised we've not been introduced as yet."
"Yes. Well, Christian and I had a falling out I'm afraid. Nothing very important. Just a matter of character differences."
Elizabeth stared, curious. What did he imply?
"You seem confused, my lady.” Park smiled and gave her hand a consoling pat. Conspiratorially, he leaned close enough that she smelled a hint of peppermint and tobacco on his breath. “Everyone in town knows about Christian's Chinese mistress. I assumed you knew as well."
Elizabeth gasped. “What?"
Park adopted an expression of shock and outrage. “Oh, my dear lady, I am so sorry. You haven't heard the gossip then?"
"No."
He stepped away as if preparing to leave. “I've said too much. You must ask Christian for the details."
Shock tore through her, lending a shrill note to her voice. Reaching out, she grabbed his coat to stop him. “Please. Please. You must tell me what you're talking about."
He sighed and turned. “Very well.” His eyes were filled with sympathy. “As you know, Christian spent nearly ten years building an empire in the Orient. Lord only knows what foreign ideas he learned there. The only thing known for certain is that he returned with a Chinese slave girl on his arm."
"A slave girl!"
Park shook his head woefully. “A nasty business, slavery. Anyway, she lives in his Berkeley Square mansion as his mistress, but surely, once you have wed, he will buy a little house for her somewhere. Not to worry."
Elizabeth stumbled back as the implications struck her with intense force.
No. No. I shan't believe it! Not of Christian. Never of Christian!
"Please ex-excuse me. I must go.” She stumbled backward, but righted herself. Turning in a whirl of ivory skirts, she walked quickly toward the back of the garden and the gate waiting there.
Never could she imagine what a fool she'd been to believe the murmurings of a man. Would she never learn? Tears of fury and remorse stung her cheeks as her mind reeled from shock. She only knew that at this moment she must get away. Now!
Rushing through the back gate and down the empty side street, she spotted a lone hackney. Within moments, she was on her way home.
* * * *
On the steps at the edge of the garden stood Park Mansfield. He'd done well this evening, he thought, as he watched Elizabeth stumble through the foliage and into the street beyond.
Perhaps it was time to retire from the party himself. Time to see about tracking down his new friend, Edward. Who knew what juicy tidbits he might relay regarding his relationship with Elizabeth? Adjusting the lapel of his black coat, Park followed her direction. His plan was working beautifully. Before long, the world would know Park as Your Grace, the Duke, and Christian would be just another disinherited noble.
A good night's work, Park thought, as he climbed into his carriage and gave directions to his driver. Vaguely he wondered how Elizabeth would handle this tantalizing bit of news. That she was shaken was evident. Vividly, he recalled the disbelief, the sharp, hunted look on her face. She had turned paler than milk; her lips had tightened. Tears swam in those huge violet eyes. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
His teeth flashed white in the gloom of the carriage, and his rich, dark laughter laced the chill air.
Thirteen
Dreams made one foolish!
Foolish! Foolish!
Despising her stupidity in falling for Christian's tempting words, Elizabeth flew into her chamber and dashed her sapphire engagement ring across the room where it settled with a soft ping upon the hardwood floor.
Her shoes followed the path of the ring as she kicked a damp slipper off each foot. Known for her wild temper as a child, she reverted to form and whirled toward her wardrobe, mindless with fury.
Dashing open the door, she reached into a bottom corner and grabbed the garments she needed.
"My lady!” Pandora stood in the doorway and dabbed at her nose with a square of material. She sneezed violently. “Whatever are you doing? Why are you home already? Something is wrong, isn't it?"
"Considering a man is involved, of course, something is wrong. Wretchedly wrong!"
"Surely His Grace has not done something to upset you? Why the man is besotted and so eager to marry you, it is a wonder he hasn't already swept you off to Gretna Green!” Pandora followed that pronouncement with a fit of coughing.
Elizabeth huffed at the little maid and fisted her hands upon her hips. “Oh, please do sit before you fall. You should not be out of bed."
"But I had to come. You made enough noise to wake the dead. Now, here I find you all red-faced and furious, ready to kill if I don't miss my guess."
"Oooh!” Elizabeth marched to Pandora and presented her back. “My tapes, if you will. And please do hurry."
"Mmm.” Nimble fingers went quickly to the task. “There now, m'lady. Shall I fetch your night rail?"
"No, I am going out again."
Despite her mistress's wishes, Pandora approached her. Pale curls peeked from beneath a white mob cab, her dark eyes were rimmed with red and matched her small turned-up nose. “You cannot go out like this."
"Like what?"
"M'lady, you are crying. Are you so upset that you did not know?"
When Elizabeth sank to the foot of her bed, her ivory gown drooping from her shoulders, the tears began in earnest.
"Oh, please, you must not. Take this.” Pandora drew another handkerchief from the pocket of her wrap and pressed in rapid little pats along Elizabeth's cheeks.
"I told myself I would never believe in a man,” she choked. “But I did. How could an intelligent woman forget such an important lesson?"
"I'll kill the slimy bastard!"
"No. Do me in instead. I am too stupid to live, Pandora."
She patted Elizabeth's back and murmured soothing phrases. “Tell me what he did, m'lady."
Elizabeth shook her head violently. “I cannot speak of it. I have no notion of what to do. Christian and I are bound by our betrothal, but there must be a way to rid myself of him!"
"I just do not understand. What did he do that was so foul as to hurt you so?"
"Let me simply say that evidently he is no better than any other man, save Father.” Elizabeth stood and separated the garments she'd taken from the wardrobe, and Pandora's eyes widened.
"My lady. No!"
Elizabeth took out a rumpled pair of breeches and laid them carelessly on the bed. “I must. Tonight I met the infamous Lord Bailsworthy, and he is every bit as vile as Kathleen said. There is little moon tonight, which shall help."
Pandora coughed into her cloth as a spasm seized her. Shakily she stood and faced Elizabeth. “Give me but a moment and I shall be ready."
Stepping out of her gown, Elizabeth tossed it upon a chair and continued to disrobe. “Heavens no! You shall not come, Pandora. The night is ch
illy and damp, and you must stay indoors and follow doctor's orders. Bed rest in a nice warm room is the place for you, not traipsing about London's alleyways."
"Why must you go tonight?"
"Because I am angry and want—nay, demand—retribution for Bailsworthy's actions."
Pandora helped Elizabeth button the sleeves of her man's shirt. Padora gave her a sly look. “Do you not mean retribution for whatever His Grace has done to upset you?"
"Hush,” she mumbled, unwinding a long woolen scarf of darkest gray. “My reasons are none of your concern."
"As you wish, m'lady.” Pandora sniffed.
Realizing she took out her bad temper on her companion, Elizabeth softened her voice. “I must do this. Please understand."
"Very well, but do not tarry long in relieving this lord of his valuables. I shall not sleep a bit until you return safely."
Impulsively, Elizabeth hugged her and sent her off to bed. Tonight was not the time to have a deep discussion of the evening's events. No, the details were too humiliating to be shared with anyone.
After getting out of the hackney at her front doorstep, she'd entered and paused by her parents’ room. She started to knock. Thinking to unburden herself to her mother, she noted the silence within. They were sleeping and surely tonight's disappointment could be saved for morning. Sometimes it was best to be alone in one's misery.
She walked to a space near the bed and bent to pick up the ring she'd discarded. How lovely it was and how very meaningless. Any man who traveled about with a slave girl in tow did not deserve her love or admiration. She could never marry a man like that. Marriage was meant to be sacred. Though she wasn't naïve enough to believe men were faithful to their wives, she'd hoped Christian might be different. Might be satisfied with her love only.
Bah!
All her wishes were naught more than a childish dream; something one might read in a fairy tale. But life was not a fairy tale, was it?
Elizabeth dashed away indignant tears and put the ring away until she could return it to Christian.
Checking her appearance in the mirror, she adjusted the lapels of her black coat, then stuffed her hair beneath a black woolen cap such as a seaman might wear.
Tempted Page 17
