Tall, paned windows, expensively draped, flanked the bed in which she lay.
That this was Christian's room was not in doubt. The very air smelled of his distinctive scent. Masculine and intoxicating. Riveting.
Unable to prevent it, her heart hitched. She must get away. Shame and embarrassment heated her skin. With a soft moan of pain, she kicked away the covers and levered her naked limbs over the side of the bed. Pain flashed at her bandaged side as she tried to stand, only to flop back upon the mattress like a landed fish.
"Please, miss. Do not!"
Elizabeth heard the soft, feminine voice and stiffened. The gentle swish of silk against silk came closer as a lovely Oriental woman approached the bed and gazed with anxious eyes at her.
Incapable of speech, Elizabeth remained mute, but devoured each detail of the other woman's face. No wonder Christian kept this woman as his mistress and so very close at hand. She was extraordinary. Closing her eyes in distress, Elizabeth thought the pain in her body nothing compared to the pain in her heart.
"Let me to help.” The small woman helped adjust Elizabeth back into place on the bed and covered her legs with the warm cotton sheet. A coverlet of patterned silk followed. Knowing she could delay this meeting no longer, she opened her eyes.
Her voice cracked at the first word so she licked her lips and tried again to no avail.
The girl gave her a sympathetic look and went to a small table where she poured water into a crystal glass. “Here. You take. You drink.” An Li helped Elizabeth sip. “Sleep medicine make thirsty. Yes. You drink. This is good."
"Thank you,” Elizabeth whispered after she'd taken what she needed. Speechless at the young woman's beauty, Elizabeth simply stared.
Placing a small hand across her heart, the girl said, “I am An Li and happy to serve you, my lady."
"You are the woman spoken of, are you not? Christian's mistress?"
True shock flashed across An Li's face. “Oh, no! You mistake! Him friend only ... very good friend."
Elizabeth took a moment to absorb the words she hadn't thought to hear. “I do not understand. I was told—"
An Li's hands moved in an agitated manner. “No, no. Somebody lie. Very bad lie to tell when my Christian, he love you so much. Want marry you! Not want An Li. An Li not want Christian. Not that way."
Relief, so heavy it hurt, struck like lightning, leaving Elizabeth limp and breathless. She believed An Li. The sincerity in her voice was so strong that Elizabeth felt it like a caress on her soul.
Despite everything that had happened, a broad smile bloomed across her face. An Li smiled in return and as unconsciously as a child, lifted a hand to brush back a lock of hair from Elizabeth's forehead.
"We will be friends, yes?"
"Yes, I know we shall.” Her smile faded a bit then. “I was told you are a slave. Tell me this is not true?"
An Li shook her head, causing her loose black hair to swing deftly around her shoulders. “Once but no longer. Christian, he save."
"If I may be so bold, what happened?"
"Christian come to House of Chang where I live since baby. I slave to Chang. Must love men he bring to me.” An Li's eyes were haunted, and Elizabeth's heart filled to bursting at the pain she saw reflected there. “I am woman without honor, but Christian, he kind. He buy me from Chang and bring me here. I free now. An Li love Christian like brother. He is, how you say? Hero. Him hero to An Li."
Helplessly, Elizabeth's eyes filled. “Life is so unfair."
An Li nodded. “When men rule, women suffer."
"I couldn't agree more."
"We be friends, maybe? I have no lady friends in England.” A quick grin transformed her, showing a deep dimple. “None in China either. No loss, that! But I feel like bird in cage here, though I could never tell my Christian. He so kind."
"I would be privileged, An Li."
She started to rise, but Elizabeth's hand stopped her. “Can you tell me what happened to me last night?"
The other woman settled again. “Christian, he bring you in carriage. You bleed much on your man-clothes and on Christian, too. Rawlins, Christian's man, he know how to fix you. He do. Then you sleep. Christian, he stay for long time. Hold hand. He pray to his God. An Li not know this god. Then, I say to Christian, he must sleep. Now he sleep, but come soon to spank, he say. What is this spank?"
Elizabeth scowled. “I assure you, An Li, it is nothing either of us should be concerned about."
"I would not be so sure of it, Elizabeth. My hand already itches with the need to paddle your bottom."
Both women turned and gasped at the sight of Christian framed in the doorway. Hands fisted on his hips, hair hanging thickly about his shoulders, he seemed a frightening apparition. Elizabeth wanted to shout at him, scowl at him, but she couldn't. She was too humiliated.
An Li's head was bowed, but her lips twitched as if tempted to laugh outright. Christian moved into the room and gently touched the girl's shoulder. “You should get some rest."
"Yes,” she murmured as she rose. Giving Elizabeth a sympathetic look, she turned and quietly left.
Feeling like a naughty little girl, Elizabeth bowed her head and felt the weight of silence as he stood over her. Twisting the sheets in her hands, she bit her lower lip and waited. Still, he said nothing.
"I-I can explain, Christian. I—"
"You are a thief. Yes, I know. I followed you and saw first hand the depths to which you will sink."
"There are reasons."
"Not reason enough, damn it!"
"Just let me ex—"
"No!” he snapped. Sitting on the side of her bed, he forced her to look at him. Almost nose-to-nose, he stared coldly into her eyes. “I want to hear no more of your blather on women's rights and protecting the innocent. You little fool! When will you learn to protect the feelings of those who love you? Or is it only strangers who incur your loyalty?"
She felt her temper rise, her face flush with heat. “How dare you! How dare you question me when you know nothing?"
His big hands sprang out to capture her face, none too gently. His grip at her jaw was firm and unyielding. “I know everything, my dear,” he drawled. “Thinking to help, I had Pandora brought here. Between coughs and sneezes, she confessed everything. Both your mother and father know the truth as well."
Elizabeth paled. “My parents?"
"I am not so selfish as to leave them frantic with worry. You, on the other hand, care nothing about their feelings, or you would not be gallivanting about London wearing men's breeches and packing a pistol.” His hands dropped to her shoulders and gripped with restrained fury. His mouth moved to the hair at her temple, as he flexed his fingers and whispered roughly, “My God, I could have lost you, you silly twit. Never, ever, frighten me like this! Never again put yourself in such danger.
He drew back, his silver eyes lit with determination. “Promise me, damn you! Promise!"
Elizabeth gazed at him, knowing he would never understand the need that drove her. So she gave him what he wanted. “I promise. I am truly sorry to have caused such worry."
Relaxing somewhat, he drew back and raked both sets of fingers through his hair. Despite the dark tint of his skin, she couldn't help noticing the dark circles that rimmed beneath his eyes. His skin was taut, his lips compressed. He fairly vibrated with tension. “Why did you leave me at the ball? And do not dare equivocate! My patience is at a minimum."
She looked at her hands and confessed, “I was told about An Li's presence in your home."
Brows knitted, he glared. “So? What of it? I have made no secret of her presence here."
"I know. Still, I was led to believe you kept her as a mistress."
A hint of male satisfaction lit his eyes. “You were jealous?"
She stiffened. “Of course not. I just found it outré gauche to keep one's mistress so close at hand. You professed to want my hand, yet flaunted a mistress. The affair seemed more than flip, offensive to say the
least. I was also told that she was a slave and, I confess, assumed the worst."
Hurt flashed briefly on his chiseled features. “You believed I condone such a vile institution as slavery?"
Lifting her eyes, she tried to appear contrite. “It was horrible of me to doubt you, Christian. Though I do not necessarily want to wed you, I do believe you to be a man of honor."
"Thank you for the backhanded compliment."
Haughtily, she sniffed and lifted her chin. “You're welcome."
"Who came to you with this tale?"
"Your cousin, I'm afraid. Park Mansfield approached me before I returned from the garden."
A vivid curse rent the air as Christian paced to the foot of the bed. “The bastard!” He spun to face her, fury evident in the clenching of his teeth. “Do not believe anything the man has to say. He bears me a grudge and would do anything to cause me trouble. This time he succeeded. Elizabeth, last night's events were so heinous and potentially life-threatening that I am afraid you have squandered your last chance at a life of spinsterhood."
"What do you mean?” She looked aghast at him, which made him smile wolfishly.
"Why, my dear, it is quite plain. You are a very foolish woman. It is time I saved you from yourself.” He propped his fists upon his hips and lifted a haughty black brow. A nasty, mean smile lifted the corner of his sensual lips. “Do you get my meaning? Your parents are, at present, installing themselves in my home. They are, to say the least, furious with you. Your father is quite prepared to wash his hands of you, thus placing you in my own quite capable hands.
"To make the matter plain, Elizabeth, we shall marry one week hence. Prepare yourself and heal, if you will.” His grin was cocky and, to her way of thinking, impossible. Her fingers itched to smack him soundly across his smug face.
Walking to her side once more, he grinned at her before placing a noisy kiss upon her lips. Then, as if quite pleased with himself, he went to the bedroom door and stopped with his hand upon the latch. He gave her a raking glance, full of sexual promise.
"Heal quickly, love, as you have a wedding night coming soon. Believe me, I am counting the moments."
* * * *
Three days later, a much-improved Elizabeth was summoned downstairs to face the wrath of her parents. She'd been spared talking with them or Christian over the course of recuperating from the simple flesh wound on her left side.
They must be furious with her, but somehow their absence from her bedside served to make her even more nervous and self-conscious. And, oh yes, she knew what was coming! They would force her to wed Christian, the handsome beast who haunted her dreams. Bloody hell! She wasn't ready for marriage to any man, much less a strong male animal like Christian Delaford.
Already her possessions had been moved into the Berkely Square home. Throughout the day, Pandora, her only companion, busily loaded her clothing into a wardrobe in the adjoining chambers. Drawers of stockings, undergarments, and other apparel were filled to overflowing, telling Elizabeth that chances of her returning to the Grayson townhouse were minimal at best.
After the summons at mid-morning, Pandora helped her don a lavender morning gown sprigged with tiny white daisies. Properly girlish, Elizabeth thought with a sly smile. She'd given the matter of marriage a great deal of thought, realizing her only salvation lay in Christian finding her too immature, childish, and selfish to marry. The ruse wouldn't work most likely, but she was determined to play her last card.
All hopes of turning the tides evaporated quickly, however, when she opened the door of his study and entered the oppressive air of hostility that greeted her. Immediately, she saw him sitting behind his massive desk. Her mouth dried at his satisfied expression. Leaning back in the heavy leather chair, he'd propped his boots upon the desk and crossed them at the ankles. Compelling gray eyes examined her from top to toe as if in appraisal of her worth. Long, slender fingers were steepled at chest level, but every so often, he tapped them against his strong chin. He looked every bit like a stern headmaster at some exclusive boy's school. Harsh and unbending.
Millicent sat with red-rimmed, swollen eyes in a chair near open French doors and gazed distractedly at the garden. Elizabeth's father glowered from his standing position near the fireplace mantel.
"You were summoned fifteen minutes ago,” her normally kind father snapped. “You are late."
"I am sorry, Papa. May I sit?"
"No, you may not, young woman. You will stand and take what is due you after the shame you have brought on this family."
She opened her mouth to speak, but caught a look from Christian and thought better of it. Snapping her mouth shut, she found a spot on the intricately detailed carpet and fixed her eyes there.
Lord Henry moved to the center of the room and stood over her. “Do you realize what you have done with your antics? You silly little chit! Do you know what losing you would have done to your mother and me? Or do you care?"
"I—"
"Shut your mouth. I won't stand for excuses and I will never understand why you felt it necessary to seek revenge for every woman in London who found herself impregnated by a Lord of the Realm."
"But they—"
"Need you. I know you believe that. Have you forgotten the vast wealth at your disposal, and have I ever prevented you from using it as you choose? No. Never. You could have simply aided these strangers financially, but that was not enough. Was it?” When she remained mute, Lord Henry shouted, “Was it?"
"No,” she mumbled, red-faced with shame.
"Of course not!” he continued while Millicent sniffed into her handkerchief. “No, my sweet daughter chooses to vent her grief by attacking men of the Ton and stealing a mere pittance just to harass and harangue."
"I just wanted to avenge Lottie, Papa! I owed it to her for pushing her toward Edward. It was my entire fault that she married the man in the first place.” Tears fell freely from her eyes as she grabbed her father's lapels and drew him toward her.
Millicent wept on, and Christian sat up alertly in his chair. Pity swept the depths of his eyes and seeing that look, Elizabeth drew back again. Releasing her father, she attempted to still the shaking of her hands by clenching them into fists.
"Forgive me,” she whispered. “Charlotte would never have failed you as I have done. My anger has been so awful and potentially hurtful to both you and Mama."
The rage on Lord Henry's face dissolved into abject misery as he tugged his daughter into the shelter of his arms. As she wept freely, he buried his face into her hair. “Sweet moppet. Do not cry. Thanks to Christian, disaster has been averted, and it seems we will not lose you. You could have died in the dirty street. You could have been taken by authorities and hanged for a thief. My dearest girl, how frightened we have been!"
After a long look, he went to Millicent and bending to her, began to stroke her shoulders as she cried.
Woefully, Elizabeth watched, moved by their affection, until she became aware that Christian now stood behind his desk.
"Very well,” he said gravely. “You are contrite, Elizabeth, for the moment. But you will soon learn that I am not as forgiving as your father. Hear me well, my dear, for I will not say this again. You must be contained and controlled by a strong man and that man, despite your protests, is myself. By your actions, you have lost any and all hope of living independently."
"What do you mean?” She despised the crack in her voice. Gazes locked, a shiver took her at the subtle menace he exuded. His eyes carried the promise that once she was his, her life would never be the same. Her teeth began to chatter despite the warmth of the morning.
"What do I mean?” He moved closer, looming, threatening. “I took you for a more intelligent female. Surely you've guessed your punishment by now."
"Punishment?” She felt his breath brush her cheek, smelled the masculine, tantalizing scent of him and wanted to sink into the carpets.
He laughed. It was a thoroughly wicked sound, a seductive sound. It was the so
und of victory. Finally, he looked at her, letting her absorb the sudden silence in the room. “Prepare yourself, my darling. Tomorrow we wed and we shall be together for all eternity. Like it or not."
Fifteen
Christian held himself back from taking the stairs two at a time. His heart thudded with an eagerness that even two snifters of brandy could not tame. It was his wedding night and upstairs, his bride of four hours waited.
It had been a small affair with only Elizabeth's parents, Pandora, An Li, and his man, Rawlins, in attendance. Every florist in Towne capitulated to the wishes of the brash young Duke, and, considering his vast wealth, quickly transformed his mansion into an elegant bridal bower. Flowers draped every cornice, filled every corner and every vase.
Violinists from the London Orchestra established themselves behind a discreet alcove and gave up their day of rest to accommodate the free-spending Christian Delaford.
After an elegant wedding supper, prepared by his own French chef, Elizabeth's parents returned home, leaving the newly married couple alone. Waiting to retire to his chamber was one of the hardest things Christian had ever done.
Elizabeth had been a vision.
Dressed in her mother's bridal gown, she had looked both poised and innocent. It was a strange dichotomy to be sure. The hand-tatted, Brussels lace gown had, over time, faded to a soft yellow, setting off her vibrant hair. She carried a small, trailing bouquet of yellow roses, gardenias, and stephanotis.
While they stood before the minister, and she quietly repeated her vows, Christian caught the hesitation, the reserve in her voice and worried about the approaching wedding night. That she was against marrying was no secret, yet he prayed she would overcome her fears and come to accept him.
Thinking to humor her, he'd spent the past hour sipping brandy and musing on their wild and interesting courtship. She needed time to prepare and, despite the clawing need within him, he would give it to her.
Forcing himself to calmness he didn't feel, he took his time, reaching the top of the stairs just as Pandora prepared to enter his room. She carried in her arms a stack of freshly laundered towels.
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