Love Not a Rebel

by Heather Graham

  “Then ask Robert,” Geneva said sweetly. “Excuse me, dear, will you? Men are flocking to your father’s study, and I’m quite certain they’ll have Lord Cameron on the cooking spit, searing him away. I should love to see him defend himself.”

  Geneva hurried toward the hallway door. She bypassed it, excusing herself to various people to escape out the open doorways at the back of the hall. She would walk around the terrace to the floor-length windows and find a seat upon one of the swings, out of sight, and therefore able to listen in on the conversation.

  Amanda looked around the room. She didn’t see Robert anywhere. She had to find him and speak with him. Geneva was lying. Robert loved her, and though she couldn’t give him a new title, she did come with a rich dowry. There was no reason they should not marry. They were Virginians, both of them. He couldn’t wish to live across the sea.…

  And yet Geneva’s words had left her with a set of chills, for the woman had not teased or taunted, she had simply stated what she knew and disappeared, eager to chase Lord Cameron.

  Amanda sighed, determined to follow.

  It was not so easy, for she was stopped by young men and older women, and as her father’s hostess, she was obliged to be polite to their guests. Finally, though, she managed to escape down the hall while the musicians played a minuet.

  Outside, Amanda did not see Geneva, but as she moved near the open windows, she felt her heart suddenly pound, for Robert was inside the study with her father, Lord Cameron, and Lord Hastings.

  “You turn your back on us, Cameron, when you do such things!” Lord Hastings was saying.

  Seated before her father’s desk, Cameron set down his brandy glass. Then he rose, setting his thumbs into the waistband of his breeches, and faced Hastings.

  “Lord Hastings, I beg to differ. The House of Burgesses determined that a day of prayer for our sister city would not be out of order. Tell me, sir, who is it that we offend with prayer!”

  “You were not obliged to attend!” Robert said fervently.

  Cameron arched a dark brow at him, turning to face him. “No, sir, I was not obliged to attend, I did so because I desired to do so. The British closed the port of Boston—”

  “The British! We are the British!” her father proclaimed.

  “There is no land I would claim with more ardor as my mother country than Britain, sir, but I am not, I fear, British. I am a Virginian. I am his Majesty’s subject, but I cling to my rights as his subject. I attended a day of prayer—”

  “Boston is not our sister city. Not when she behaves as she does!” Hastings exclaimed.

  “To feel so, sir, is indisputably your prerogative,” Cameron said, bowing deeply. He turned then toward his host. “Lord Sterling, I cannot apologize for what I feel to the depths of my heart. There was nothing wrong with prayer. Lord Dunmore has now dissolved the House of Burgesses, and yet I fear her members will only meet with more regularity. They have elected representatives to their Continental Congress, and I fear that the way to peace must soon be found or else—”

  “Damn it, Cameron! You’re a fine soldier, a wealthy man, and we all admire you. But you’re talking treason again!” Sterling thundered, pounding upon his desk.

  “I have spoken no treason, sir. But beyond a doubt, our difficulties with the mother country must be solved. I offered to give up my place on the council, sir, because I know how my opinions distress you all. I shall continue to offer my own absence if you feel that you cannot tolerate my opinions, although I hope that I speak with reason. And now, gentlemen …”

  His voice suddenly trailed away. Amanda realized that he saw her staring in at him, listening to the conversation—and searching about the room. She quickly ducked behind one of the pillars but kept her eyes upon the man. He smiled, bowing his head, yet she saw the laughter in his eyes and the rueful curve of his lip and the devil’s own humor at her expense. He knew that she was looking for Robert, she thought.

  Damn the traitor. And then she didn’t care, because Robert had seen her too. Lord Cameron quickly recovered his poise and continued speaking. Robert did not do so well. A gentle smile touched his features and he started toward the floor-length windows.

  “Robert—” her father began with a frown.

  “Ah, sir, I was just feeling the need for a bit of air myself,” Eric Cameron said. “Shall we break, milords?”

  He gave the men no opportunity to protest, but bowed sharply to them all and quickly departed the room.

  “Well, I never—” her father began, but Robert interrupted him hastily.

  “Sir, it is frightfully hot in this room. Excuse me, Lord Sterling, Lord Hastings.”

  He bowed his way out. Amanda quickly ducked back around the pillar and hurried to the doors leading out from the hallway. She could hear the musicians clearly there, playing a Virginia tune. Men and women swayed in one another’s arms and parted to a far different tone and beat from the minuet. They laughed and touched and their eyes danced as they participated in the more energetic reel.

  Amanda searched for Robert, and yet her eyes rested upon one couple on the floor.

  Lord Cameron had found Geneva. Well and good for them both, they deserved one another! Amanda thought, and yet she paused, for they were enchanting together. He so tall and dark as he bent over her blond beauty, pulling her close. She so full of laughter, her eyes those of a cat, feline and feminine. One could almost feel the heat between them.

  Hers was a finer love, she assured herself. And Geneva was a liar. Robert was not going to marry another woman.

  Geneva whispered something to Lord Cameron. The two of them disappeared together.

  Amanda looked again for Robert, and at last she saw him hurrying toward her down the hallway and through the doors. She was so glad to see him, and so glad to be alone, that she threw her arms around him and came upon her toes to kiss his lips. For a moment he was still, then his arms swept around her and he held her tightly. His lips eagerly sought hers, indeed, he hungered for more, smoothing back her hair, passing the barriers of her lips with his tongue.

  She drew away from him, not so alarmed by his ardor as she was by their nearness to the party.

  “Amanda, for the love of God, let me touch you! Last night we were not alone a second, your father was always there!” he cried, but she silenced him, pressing her fingers against his lip.

  “Let’s go into the maze,” she urged him. Catching his hand, she hurried down the back steps, pulling him along. She knew the maze, she had played within it as a child, and now, with fingers entwined with Robert’s, she scampered quickly into the very heart of the foliage. The night was warm with the softest of breezes. The high foliage rustled in the breeze and the flowers, in summer bloom, caught silver light from the moon and lay around them abundantly in a dazzling display of color.

  “Amanda!” Robert called to her, but she laughed, winding around a cherry hedge and coming to the statue of Venus with its tinkling waterfall and fountain. The statue was beautiful, draped in marble as if Venus lived, an innocent virgin. Twin cupids played by her head with the long tendrils of her marble hair, and a wrought-iron loveseat awaited those who came to the Venus garden in the maze.

  Breathless, Amanda fell into the seat. “Oh, Robert!” she whispered delightedly. “Now! We’re alone at last!”

  There was a curious rustling sound, and she frowned, then determined that it was nothing more than the wind in the bushes. She smiled up at her lover, adoring his lean and poetic features, and reached for his hand.

  “Come sit by me. I have to speak with you.”

  “Amanda, I have to kiss you.”

  “Robert! Sit!”

  He did so and she curled against him, resting her head upon his shoulder. He bent down slowly to her, very slowly. Then his lips found hers, and the kiss was rich and deep and sweet. She moved her hand against his cheek, and she felt his fingers against her own. Then he gripped her tightly against him. She felt the power of his heart. And she felt
his fingers, fervently wandering upon the bodice at her breast, seeking the rise of bare flesh.

  Some inner warning sounded and she realized that she was not behaving like a lady. She was in love. She just wanted to touch him, and to be held in turn, and to believe in their future together.

  She had to pull away. He was growing reckless with his kisses, and with his hands, and although it was private in the Venus garden in the midst of the maze, she knew that she was tempting the man too far.

  “My love, please!” She gasped, capturing his straying fingers and bringing them to her lap. He still didn’t quite seem to hear her. Breathing heavily, he stared at her. He tried to lift his hand to touch her, but she held tight. “Robert—”

  “I have to have you!”

  “I love you, and our time will come. Robert—”

  “But I need you now. I need to feel your lips and I need to touch your flesh, I need to be with you. I am a man, my God, can’t you understand that!”

  “Oh, Robert, I long for you too, but we must wait. Surely you understand. My father …” No, it wasn’t her father, not really. It was her upbringing. She was Lord Sterling’s daughter, of Sterling Hall, and even if she was in love, and loved in turn, she had to wait. Until the words were spoken. Until they were joined before God.

  “Come to me, love. Feel my lips, my kiss.…”

  She was startled when he drew her back into his arms with an alarming force. They had teased and laughed a dozen times together, and it had never been like this. Her frown alone had stopped his ardor before, while now her harried fingers had no power at all against his touch.

  “Robert!” Leaping to her feet, she escaped him. He stood quickly, coming behind her, gently holding her shoulders. His voice was harsh when he spoke to her.

  “Amanda, come, we’ve played this game again and again. Surely you must feel it, you must ache and crave as I do, you long for consummation of this desire as deeply as I! And I would die for your touch, for your kiss, and still you play the tease, and you taunt and torture me. We are not children any longer. I cannot stand it!”

  She swung around, heartfully sorry and somewhat alarmed. She didn’t want what he wanted, not desperately at all. Marriage was not the same for men as it was for women. She liked to be close, and she liked to be loved. The rest, she was certain, would have to come with time.

  “We cannot, Robert. Not until we are married.”

  “Married!”

  She knew the moment he repeated the word that Geneva had not lied to her. She need not feel guilty for a single thing she might have done to Robert, Lord Tarryton. Pain spilled through her. She wanted to fall to the ground, and she wanted to scream, and she very nearly wanted to die.

  “It’s true!” She gasped, backing away from him. “You’re to marry some duchess for her estates!”

  “Amanda—” He reached for her, his misery written clearly upon his face. “Amanda, I love you. I have no choice. It doesn’t have to make any difference between us.”

  “You have no choice!” she cried. “Oh, you dreadful, despicable, cowardly bastard! How dare you!” She slapped him as hard as she could across the face.

  He gasped, staring at her, his eyes narrowing. “I have no choice!”

  “Don’t you ever come near me again. Ever.”

  “I am no coward, milady. You wait until your father has chosen for you, lady, and then tell me how to fight what we are honor-bound to do!”

  “Honor bound! You say you have no choice,” Amanda retorted. “You say no, milord, and that is that! But you don’t wish to say no, do you? Ah, that’s right. You’ll be a duke. Well, so be it then. Marry the duchess for a title. I hope that it will be well worth the price of your soul and my heart.”

  “Damn you, Amanda!” Robert cried, and he reached for her, dragging her hard against him. “You’ve no right! And you wait! You will be promised to a man like Lord Hastings, a man with three chins and four stomachs, and then you shall be sorry that you taunted me so! I love you, and you will not forget me. You will see. And for now, my God, you’ve played the bitch and the tease—”

  “How dare you—” she began, her voice low and husky and shaking with emotion and pain.

  “You’ve led me on! You’ve taunted and teased with your eyes, you’ve driven me near madness with your touch, and now you tell me that I shouldn’t come near you—”

  “Let me go!”

  “I’ll not! I’ll have tonight what you’ve offered from the start, and when you’re forced into a wretched marriage, then you’ll understand. It will happen. The day will come, and your father will force you into wedlock with some monster, an old goat perhaps, and then you’ll come to me. You’ll know the world is not perfect, no fairyland, milady.”

  “Let me go!”

  He did not. His lips came down upon hers, hard and suffocating. She slammed against his chest, to no avail. He was making her dizzy, and she wondered how long she could fight. And she couldn’t believe that she had to fight, that love had turned to nightmare, that her dreams were being shattered one by one, here in the Venus garden, beneath the summer moon.

  “No!” she cried out, wrenching from his lips, horrified when his fingers latched hard upon the velvet ties to her bodice. Desperate, she twisted in his arms, certain that she had not lost as yet and determined to kick him into agony. But just as she freed herself enough to strike he leapt forward and she fell hard upon the ground, the breath knocked from her. He jumped down upon her and started to speak.

  “Amanda—”

  His word was cut cleanly from his lips as he was grasped from behind and lifted high and tossed into the bushes. Stunned, Amanda gazed past her fallen foe to see the tall man standing before her, watching Robert where he had fallen, with immense distaste.

  Cameron. Lord Cameron!

  “How dare you!” In a rage, Robert was up and on his feet. Bellowing like a wounded bull, he lunged forward.

  Cameron sidestepped him neatly, then delivered a hard chop upon his nape, sending Robert down into a heap at his feet. Robert groaned, then staggered up again.

  “You! What right have you here! None at all. This is a private affair!”

  “Oh?” Cameron said, not even breathing hard. He crossed his arms slowly over his chest and his eyes fell upon Amanda. “I don’t think that there is anything between the two of you anymore, do you?”

  “It’s none of your business!” Robert repeated.

  “I’m afraid that it is. She asked you to let her go—I heard her.”

  “This is none of your affair!”

  Amanda’s cheeks blazed despite herself. She could not believe that she had been dragged into this horrible and humiliating position. She longed to skewer both men through.

  “You … bastard!” she breathed.

  “Amanda—” Robert began.

  “Robert, you’re a mewling coward, and I hate you, I swear it.”

  Robert glanced at Eric Cameron and took a sudden, wild swing at the man. It was almost pathetic, the ease with which Cameron caught the flailing arm and twisted it.

  “Well, Milord Tarryton,” Cameron said softly, “I can well believe that the lass has elicited a fire in your loins, and I do believe that she could tease and tempt a man to hell and back again. But still, she said no. And you, sir, are considered an aristocrat. Hardly the manners one should expect, eh?”

  Amanda gasped enraged that he should speak of her so—and witness so much of her humiliation. She couldn’t be grateful to him. She swallowed hard and took a step toward him. “Lord Cameron …” She kept her voice soft and quiet, demure. Ladylike. “You! You again! You are the plague of my life!” she charged him softly.

  Then she slapped him.

  His features went rigid but he barely blinked. “Once, milady, you may take that liberty. Don’t take it again. As to you …” He shoved Robert forward. “The night, milord, is over.”

  Robert’s head bowed. “I still say that it’s none of your affair!”

&nb
sp; “But that, sir, is point two. The lady’s behavior is every bit my concern, as is her welfare. Tonight, Lord Tarryton, we have sparred and played. Touch her again, and I might well determine to kill you.”

  “What?”

  “I am that horrible, wretched, monster man she will be forced to marry, Lord Tarryton. The old goat. I have asked her father for her hand, and he has most graciously agreed.” He bowed to Amanda. “Truly, mam’selle, you are about to find me the plague of your life!”

  IV

  “I don’t believe you!” Amanda gasped, stunned. And of course, it had to be a lie. Still reeling from the impact of Robert’s words and actions, she was afraid that she was going to be sick. She hurt, as she had never hurt before. Her sense of betrayal was already complete, yet now she was discovering that not only Robert but her father had turned from her. It could not be true. Her father had not let her go her way so freely and so far to turn her over to a rebel! She backed away from him, shaking her head. “Sir, you are a liar!”

  He arched a brow and though he maintained a pleasant enough countenance, his silver-blue eyes narrowed sharply. He didn’t like being called a liar, no matter how nonchalantly he stood. “No, I am not, milady,” he said softly, and his gaze rested upon Robert. “Lord Tarryton, my warning stands. And as you are a man affianced, perhaps you should be casting your attentions upon your future bride.” He paused, pointing a finger at Robert. “Go. Now.”

  “Amanda,” Robert said, appealing to her. “We can discuss this later—”

  “Discuss this!” she cried. “No, Lord Tarryton, we will never discuss—this. Or anything else, for that matter. You fool! I loved you!” she whispered.

  “Amanda, I do love you, I tried to tell you—”

  “Lord Tarryton!” Eric snapped. “This is a touching scene indeed, but under the circumstances …”

  There was a deadly note of menace in Eric’s voice. Robert stiffened and walked past Amanda and Eric without another word. Amanda listened to his footsteps falling upon the earth as he disappeared, then she spun around on Cameron.