Devil's Desire

by Laurie McBain

  He was apparently just as surprised as she to find them together in his bed. She had guessed correctly when she thought that the Marquis would not be a party to this, but she must now try to convince him that neither would she.

  "I don't know how I came to be here in your bed. I—I was as surprised and as shocked as you were to find myself here, but please you must be—" she tried to tell him, but his mouth came down on her mouth cruelly, cutting off any explanations she might have made. She felt his hard lips parting her softer ones, his tongue finding hers, shocking her with its touch, and its intimate searching of her mouth.

  Elysia was gasping for breath as his lips lifted from hers, having explored and plundered their softness. His lips were moving down her throat in quick, hard kisses, and she could feel his hand searching out the curves of her body, exploring them with each persua­sive caress. She struggled helplessly against the hand which still held her bound, his mouth teasing a pink tipped breast until it tautened.

  What was he doing to her? She had never felt this way before, had never experienced a man's kisses or a lover's caresses. She was frightened. But a liquid fire was burning through her blood-an odd excitement flaring deep inside her-equal to her fright.

  "You've bewitched me," he murmured thickly, in between kisses, "made me dizzy with desire. My head feels as if it would explode."

  His lips moved along her temples to her wild eyes, closing them with his kisses until finally his mouth settled possessively upon her reddened lips.

  "My icy, green-eyed witch, so disdainful with her flaming hair—I'll make you come alive with passion, Elysia," Lord Trevegne whispered almost incoher­ently, her name sounding like a caress on his lips.

  His mouth pressed against hers, hurting her as he smothered her protests and moans with his' hungry kisses that became deeper and rougher as the endless minutes passed. Elysia felt him searching, then the feeling of something hard and alien to her feminine body touching her intimately. She felt terrified, and renewed her struggles with a new-found strength, but she knew she was fighting a losing battle. And then she heard the noise.

  The door to the room was swung open, and voices seemed to fill Elysia's ears, and she felt the hard weight of Lord Trevegne's muscular body lifted.

  "Here we are, Terry," a familiar voice said, and then abruptly stopped. "I say, I'm awfully sorry! I must have mistaken this for my room."

  Sir Jason's voice sounded shocked and apologetic. Lord Trevegne, who had rolled off Elysia at the first sound of voices, was now sitting up, staring with a deadly look on his face, at the two confused-looking gentlemen standing nervously in the doorway .

  . "If you will excuse us, Trevegne . . . " Sir Jason paused delicately, his eyes wandering over Elysia's disarrayed hair and bare shoulders as she huddled under the sheet, " . . . and, Miss Demarice, please ac­cept our deepest apologies."

  The other gentleman's face was suffused with a bright red color as he nervously looked at Lord Tre­vegne, and the murderous expression in those golden eyes, and then, unable to control himself, at the delectable-looking creature with the wild, red hair and huge, green eyes lying next to the Marquis on the bed.

  "Uh, yes, yes, please accept my, uh, apologies," he mumbled, making a quick retreat from those two pairs of disturbing eyes; and the blackening temper of the Marquis—a man he would not care to anger.

  Sir Jason followed a little more slowly, looking over his shoulder as he closed the door, a wide triumphant grin tinged with undeniable malice upon his face, which neither Lord Trevegne, nor Elysia, could pos­sibly have missed.

  Lord Trevegne put his face into his hands and gave himself a shake as if trying to clear his mind of cloud­iness. Then he turned his head and gave Elysia a dev­ilish look, his eyes penetrating and steady, still darkened-but now with anger, not passion. "I am afraid that I was in no mood to listen to your explana­tions earlier, but now I want the truth, and no fabri­cations," he added menacingly, "for I believe we have just been witness to quite a performance by Sir Beck­ingham, and if that entrance was by accident, then I'll sell all my horses to the first country bumpkin I meet for a damned shilling!”

  "You, M'Lord, have the nerve, after trying to rape me, to sit there and swear in a rage at me, demanding that I should be the one to give the explanation, when it should be me demanding one from you!” Ely­sia began in indignation, having at last found her tongue, only to be interrupted by his snarled oath.

  "Hell and damnation, you don't really want me to stand and bow, and present myself most gentlemanly, begging your pardon?" he demanded making a threatening movement to leave the bed. "We've gone a little beyond Court manners, I believe."

  Elysia gasped. "Of course not!” she conceded quickly, not unaware of his nakedness.

  "Now, how did you come to be in my bed, my dear?" he drawled casually, his golden eyes alert as she answered.

  "I really don't know. After I left your company, and Sir Jason's, I went directly to my room which is the last one at the end of the corridor: Why, I don't even know. where this one is!” Elysia looked wide-eyed at the Marquis' thoughtful stare.

  "It is at the opposite end of the hall from yours, op­posite the staircase. I happened to see Sir. Jason enter his room at the end of the hall last night—probably the room across from yours—that is why I doubt very seriously whether he could have mistakenly entered my room thinking it his," Lord Trevegne answered, his eyes narrowing. "Proceed. You went to your room and . . ."

  "I was tired from the day's journey, and I was preparing for bed when the innkeeper brought me a hot drink, rum I believe, because I remember feeling drowsy afterwards because of its potency. It had been sent up by Sir Jason, and that is all that I remember before I fell asleep. You must believe me, M'Lord. That is the truth, I swear to you," Elysia added as she noticed the fierce look that had settled on his face.

  "So Sir Jason ordered you up a hot rum toddy," he speculated softly. "As it so happens, he also insisted that I join him in one before retiring. I would hazard to guess, my dear Miss Demarice, that we were­ drugged insensible last night by those infamous rum toddies and while senseless—Sir Jason was up to mis­chief."

  "But if what you say is true, then what was the purpose? Sir Jason has no reason to feel ill will towards me," Elysia asked in puzzlement

  "Ah, but he feels that he has a legitimate grievance against me, I daresay, and you, my dear young woman, unsuspectingly became his pawn of revenge against me."

  "I am afraid that I still fail to see how this can be revenge against you? It has been an insult, and an in­dignity to me—but revenge on you . . . ?"

  "Yes, revenge. Sir Jason hoped to entrap me in a position that I would find most difficult to extricate myself from—that of being found compromising all innocent young lady of quality. One does not seduce, and then desert the daughter of one's peers—if one is a gentleman," he looked at her mockingly, "and if the young lady in question has vengeful relatives, who will no doubt, hear about this escapade. It will, of course, be the talk of all London by tomorrow eve­ning how Trevegne and a lovely woman were found locked in an embrace and . . . You do get the idea? I need not elaborate further?"

  "Well, it will not work, for Sir Jason's plan has gone awry," Elysia stated firmly, "for I have no rela­tives who would either demand satisfaction or would force you into marrying me to save my good name. My God, aren't you married?"

  "My dear Miss Demarice," Lord Trevegne said softly, leaning over her, forcing Elysia back onto the pillows, and placing a hand on each side of her shoul­ders, "no one forces me to do anything that I do not wish to do. I am answerable to no one, do you under­stand? And—I am not married."

  "Yes, I understand, but wouldn't Sit Jason also be aware of this? If you are so impregnable, then why are you so upset by Sir Jason's treachery. He can not harm you-his plan has failed."

  "No one makes a fool of a Trevegne!” the Marquis said angrily, staring down into Elysia's face as if pon­dering something of interest to him
.

  "Then it is just your injured pride that causes your indignation," she said scornfully, gasping in pain as his hard fingers closed over her soft shoulders in warning.

  "Well, I cannot be forced into a marriage either! You, M'Lord, are not the only one who will not be blackmailed into something distasteful to him."

  "Oh, you would find marriage to me distasteful would you?"

  "Yes, but then since the fact of a marriage between us does not arise, it does not signify how I feel."

  "Hmmm," he replied noncommittally. "Surely there is someone who cares about your welfare?"

  "No, Lord Trevegne, I have no one who would care if I were found drowned, and floating in the Thames; merely an inconvenience for having to send to Lon­don to fetch my body," Elysia spoke bitterly. "You said I have been used as a pawn, well I can tell you, M'Lord, that it is not the first time I have been cal­lously taken advantage of to further a revenge. My aunt would have me married off to a fat, lecherous, old squire against my will, because of some grievance against my parents, which she has nurtured for over thirty years."

  "This aunt of yours, surely she would be upset to hear of this occurrence?" he asked curiously.

  "My aunt would be overjoyed to know of my pre­dicament, and furthermore loathes the very sight of me. And if you would allow me to get up, I will leave the room and not further complicate your life, M'Lord," Elysia told him, trying to push him away, but he resisted her efforts easily, and continued to stare at her, a gleam of amusement entering his eyes.

  "I am afraid that I cannot allow you to leave, Miss Demarice," he said decidedly, having come to a deci­sion.

  Elysia looked at him wide-eyed. "You can't keep me here against my will!" she cried, fearful he might be planning to resume where he had left off before being so timely interrupted by Sir Jason and friend.

  "Are you daring me, Miss Demarice?" Lord Tre­vegne asked her meaningfully, pressing down on her shoulders with his hard fingers.

  "You know very well that I don't have half your strength; it would be foolhardy of me to try. But I fail to see any reason for you to keep me here. The damage is done, and as a gentleman, I know you won't . . . " Elysia paused in embarrassment, trying to select her words carefully.

  "I won't continue to make love to you—no matter how enjoyable it was—if that is what you wanted me to say?" He looked amused at her confusion, his lip curling slightly. "Did you run away from home, Ely­sia?" he asked, giving her a slight shake as he watched the mutinous look on her face, compelling her to look into his eyes. "Is that why you are travel­ing without a maid, or proper chaperone? And without an excess of baggage? Traveling light, I believe you said."

  "Yes, I was," Elysia told him honestly, defiance in her voice, "it was no longer possible for me to live with my aunt. I had to leave. She was quite insane, I believe," she whispered brokenly, thinking of her aunt's contorted features as she had raged at her in fury.

  "Then you have no home—no place to go?"

  "No, I have no home, but I am going to London."

  "What were you planning to do in London? Seek employment?" he asked doubtfully.

  "Yes, I shall look for a position as a governess, or possibly as a companion."

  "You won't, you know," Lord Trevegne stated baldly. "You are going to marry me."

  Elysia felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. She looked at him as if he were crazed. "But that is absurd!” she cried. "You have just told me that no one could force you into marriage, and I don't want to marry you anyway."

  "No one is forcing me into marriage," Lord Tre­vegne answered silkily. "I have been thinking of acquiring a wife, and you happen to be here, and available. I am merely taking advantage of the situa­tion. You also have several points in your favor, the most inviting being your lack of relatives, for I should hate to have a bossy, interfering mother-in-law trou­bling me all the time. You also look as though you could bear me several fine sons," he laughed at Ely­sia's outraged expression, "and you happen to be a damned fine looking woman." He dropped a light kiss on her nose, thoroughly enjoying himself.

  "I will not marry you!” Elysia told him angrily, her eyes glinting greenly. "I have no intention of agreeing to your proposals. I shall continue to London as planned and seek employment," she stated firmly, staring him in the eye. "You insult me, M'Lord. Pro­posing to me as if you were purchasing a mare ­going over my finer points, indeed!”

  "Do you actually imagine that any woman would hire you to be a governess for her children, or as a companion to herself? Have you no awareness of yourself as a woman?" he disbelievingly demanded. "I've never yet met a woman who was not vain about her looks, and you are certainly a beauty, and bound to be a distraction to any man—especially if you're sleeping under his roof. I can't believe that a wife would willingly put you within sight of her husband's eye. Nor would some dowager enjoy seeing you ev­eryday—a constant reminder of her lost youth and beauty, which she will never recapture again."

  Elysia stared up at him; dismay written across her face by his words, spoken in obvious truthfulness.

  "And furthermore," he continued relentlessly, "your reputation will have preceded you to London. Do you actually believe that any decent woman would hire you to look after her children?" he asked incred­ulously.

  "And don't doubt for a moment that Sir Jason will waste any time in telling his tale, without his own du­plicity of course, and if not Beckingham, then that thick-headed friend of his, Twillington. He arrived late last night. I don't believe you had the pleasure of meeting him until this morning. Of all the men I how, he must be the biggest windbag in all of Lon­don. His tongue runs on wheels, so you may be as­sured that the clubs of St. James will echo with this story. No doubt he will have lavishly embroidered it in’ exaggeration, so we will indeed my dear, be paint­ed black. That is, if it is possible for my reputation to be made blacker," he laughed deeply. "But you, my dear, will become notorious, for having been found in bed with me, and I would not give your chances of finding employment-decent employ­ment, that is-as much of a chance as a snowball in Hell has."

  "You don't feel regretful or embarrassed about my predicament at all!” Elysia said in rising indignation. "I don't believe you have a shred of decency."

  "No, I doubt if I do, but would you have me be­lieve that you would rather work in some ungratify­ing and degrading job than marry a wealthy and titled gentleman, and have your every wish granted?"

  "If that gentleman be you, then yes, I would! I would hire out as a scullery maid before accepting your name! You are no gentleman, M'Lord," Elysia declared hotly.

  "By birth, yes. By reputation. . .?" he shrugged doubtfully. "But you sound quite the affronted and scorned female—well, if that is how you feel . . ." He released her shoulders, and leapt easily from the bed, ripping the covers from Elysia's naked body. He picked her up in one swoop, deposited her on the cold wooden floor squarely in the middle of the room, and then stood back and leisurely allowed his eyes to rove over her body. Elysia stood rigidly with her long hair rippling down below her hips. Her breasts were firm and round above a small waist and slender hips, her skin as smooth and white as alabaster. She could feel the flush of embarrassment heat her body as she tried ineffectually to shield herself with her hands.

  "That's quite unnecessary, my dear, for I've already seen your charms-and sampled a few," he said cru­elly, not sparing her from his ridicule. She kept her eyes averted from his bare body as he stood there unashamedly, with his broad muscular chest, its black curly hairs tapering down to lean narrow hips and long, firmly-muscled thighs, his obvious maleness flaunted before her shocked eyes. She had never seen a man's naked body before, and he was making her feel uncomfortable, very much aware of herself as a woman-and the difference between them.

  "Now if you really are the well brought-up young lady you would have me believe, why aren't you making plans to drown yourself in some deep and murky pool, your honor saved? Of course, you could' always wa
it until you reached London, and then jump from a bridge into the Thames. Much more dra­matic, my dear, and society would love it. You, of course, would be pitied, becoming a martyr for young womanhood betrayed. After all, you have spent the night with the notorious rake of London society—Lord Trevegne, and taken the only possible, and in­deed, honorable way out."

  Elysia felt tears swell in her eyes at his sneering and ridiculing remarks; her eyes large and luminous beneath her arched brows. She hung her head in de­jection, tears of despair running down her pale cheeks. She tried valiantly but in vain to stifle her sobs as she felt all defiance drain out of her.

  Something soft and warm was placed around her shoulders, and through her tears she saw that it was Lord Trevegne's coat. He guided her over to his bed, helping her in and covering her with a warm blanket. He stood staring down at her as she stared up into his face with watery, green eyes.

  "You see, my dear, you really have no choice in the matter," he said not unkindly for once, "and I might add, that it would be criminal of me to allow so lovely a child to fling herself into the cold arms of Death, when mine are much warmer."

  With that last jibe, he turned and proceeded to quickly dress. While pulling on his tall Hessians, he said shortly, "You stay where you are, and I’ll fetch your belongings. You may dress yourself in here. My carriage should be arriving momentarily, and then we will leave. But first I’ll have some breakfast sent up to you."

  Elysia glanced at him as he left the room, his tall, broad form blocking the doorway, then disappearing as he closed the door behind him. She stared unsee­ingly up at the ceiling. Maybe she should try to drown herself, or even hang herself from the rafters, but that would give the inn a bad name, and that was hardly fair to the friendly innkeeper, she thought practically. She really should feel like killing her­self—but the horrible thing was that she didn't feel in the least like 'taking her life. It was true that she had nobody left in the world to love, but some spark, some will to live was too strong in her to succumb to the death wish. But what would life be like married to Lord Trevegne, a roué and a knave, who admitted to his own blackened reputation?