A Notorious Love

by Sabrina Jeffries

  “Daniel?” she whispered.

  “Yes, love.”

  “Have you ever…that is…am I your first virgin?”

  He chuckled and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Most assuredly my first virgin. My first lady of rank, in fact.” He paused. “And my last, too, if I have anything to say about it.”

  Her pulse quickened. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  “I intend to marry you, lass.”

  A treacherous thrill swept through her before she could tamp it down. She turned onto her back to stare up into his face. The lamplight left half of it in shadow, reminding her that only half of him was honest gentleman. The other half was wicked rascal, through and through.

  But his eyes looked perfectly sincere as they fixed on her face. “I want to marry you, Helena, if you’ll have me.”

  Hope and desire and some emotion she’d always carefully squelched blossomed in her heart. Then it wilted as her sense of fairness overtook it. “You don’t have to marry me just because you ruined me. I knew what I was doing. I made a conscious choice to become your…your lover.”

  He bent his head to brush his lips across her cheek. “And I’m making a conscious choice to marry you.” A teasing light flickered in his eyes. “Besides, you weren’t the only one ruined, y’know. What about me? Now that you’ve taken advantage of me, aren’t you going to do the right thing?”

  She snorted. “If men were ruined the first time they made love, you’d have been married back when you were…what, nineteen or twenty?”

  He winced. “I’m not sure you want to know.”

  “Oh, but I do. If you mean to marry me, I should hear what I’m getting into. So how old were you?”

  A sigh whiffled out of him. “Fourteen.”

  “Fourteen! Lord, you started your oat sowing early, didn’t you?”

  “I had a bit of help,” he grumbled. “Crouch and the others decided it was time I bedded my first woman, so they took me to a Hastings inn and paid for a tart for me. That started me on the road to perdition.”

  “A road you’ve been paving with bad intentions ever since, I expect.” She knew she sounded jealous, but that was because she was. She couldn’t help it.

  He cupped her cheek, his expression suddenly earnest. “I’ll not lie to you, Helena. I’ve had a wild life—and yes, quite a few women in my bed. But I’m not a reckless young fool anymore, and I’ve been thinking I’d like to settle down with a wife.”

  “Is that what you were doing at your lodgings when I went there?” she asked archly. “Auditioning women for the role?”

  “Christ,” he growled, “you’ll never let me forget that, will you?”

  “It was rather unforgettable.”

  “For you, p’raps, but I’d have forgotten it instantly if not for you bringing it up all the time.” He fixed his gaze on her lips and lowered his voice. “Whereas I know I’ll never forget one minute of our lovemaking tonight. You’re dancing around the subject, love, but I won’t let you avoid it. I want to know—will you marry me?”

  She bit back her instinctive “yes.” Part of her would like nothing more. Daniel was the first man who’d taken her for what she was, who’d noticed her advantages but accepted her flaws, too. He was the first to think it worth his while to coax her from behind her aloof shield.

  But charming women was his peculiar talent—and that gave her pause. Could she handle marriage to a man who’d spent half of his life bedding women ten times more experienced in the sensual arts than she? What if he grew bored with her and wanted to return to his “wild life”? She’d never live through that. She just knew she wouldn’t.

  Her silence made him scowl. “I know I’m beneath you,” he said, “and that you could probably do better, but all the same—”

  “You’re not beneath me,” she protested, “not in any sense that counts. And it’s not as if my bloodlines are substantially superior to yours. Papa used treachery to get his title, and Mama was an actress.” She laid her hand over his. “As for doing better, you’re all I could want in a man.”

  He let out a long breath. “I can support you, too, y’know. P’raps not as richly as you’re used to, but certainly not so poorly as to make life difficult. In time, when my business is more secure, we might live quite nicely indeed.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I’ll even move out of St. Giles for you.”

  “I’m afraid I’d make that a condition of marriage,” she quipped. Her humor faded. “But that’s not what concerns me.”

  “Then what is it, lass?” He swept his hand over her shoulder, then down her arm to her hip, where he rested it possessively.

  She couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, she stared at his chest, at the whorl of hair around one flat nipple. “Why do you want to marry me, Danny?”

  His hand jerked on her hip. “It’s not for that dowry Griff gave you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  At his defensive tone, she glanced up. For once, he looked vulnerable, wary. She brushed his stubbled jaw with her fingers. “I know that.”

  “I don’t need Griff’s money. Or yours.” His face was stiff with pride. “In fact, I’ll tell him to keep it.”

  “You will not!” she protested. When he lifted an eyebrow, she added, “We can use it, for heaven’s sake. And Griff owes it to both of us, after the way he made you deceive me last summer.”

  He relaxed, a smile tugging at his lips. “True enough.” He traced a circle on her hip with his thumb. “Are you saying you’ll marry me?”

  “I-I don’t know. You haven’t answered my question. About why you want me to.”

  He looked guarded. “Why does anybody marry? For companionship, for affection…” Desire flickered in his gaze as he caressed her hip. “For lovemaking.”

  For love? she thought, but didn’t say it. She didn’t want him just speaking the words to secure her, the way her former fiancé had done. Besides, it ought to be enough that he offered marriage, which she certainly hadn’t expected.

  But it wasn’t.

  She managed a shaky laugh. “You don’t need marriage to sanction your lovemaking, from what you’ve told me.”

  “Ah, but I’d need marriage to sanction lovemaking with you, wouldn’t I? I think I know you well enough to know that.” He added softly, “I’ve never asked a woman to marry me before, Helena. That should tell you how badly I want you in my life. I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you. Tonight and beyond. For good.”

  She turned away to hide her face, shifting onto her side and tucking her hands up under her head. “It’s understandable that you might…feel that way just now…when we’ve been forced to be in such close company…and…” And when I’m such a novelty—your first conquest of a gentlewoman.

  “I know my own mind, Helena.”

  “Or that you might feel obliged to marry me because—”

  “I don’t feel ‘obliged’ to marry you, damn it.” He turned her back to face him, his eyes flashing fury. “Is it really so hard for you to believe a man might simply want you?”

  “Yes!” The word tore from her before she could stop it. As she lay there fighting back tears, she realized it was what she truly felt. “Yes, it is hard to believe. No other man has done so. No other man has looked at me and seen anything but a tart-tongued spinster with a distasteful deformity. And you are a man who routinely beds beautiful women, who’s used to—”

  “That’s what troubles you, isn’t it? All those other women.” His anger had faded as she spoke, and now he lifted his hand to brush away her tears. “You’re more beautiful to me than any of them ever were. Not a single one of them held my interest for more than a night.”

  He flashed her a wry smile. “To be honest, I never held theirs for more than that, either. They liked me for the money or the moment’s pleasure, and one or two liked the idea of a dalliance with the famous Wild Danny Brennan’s bastard. They were a fun lot, but none of them cared about me. Because I knew that, bedding them was naught but an e
ntertainment. And a lonely business, too, when all was said and done.”

  He tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “But with you it’s different, because you look at me and see Daniel Brennan, not my da or my purse or even my pego. That’s why our lovemaking is so much more. It’s what passion should be, what I’ve never had from it before—two bodies as one, two hearts entwined, a great glorious joining of two people who care for each other. When I can have that, why should I want any other woman?”

  Her heart beat triple-time as she stared up into his dear face. He did have such a talent for sweet words, and she wanted so badly to believe him. If not for his vast experience with women, she might not be balking.

  “You needn’t give me an answer now, love,” he whispered. “Just give me time to prove that I mean what I say, that I intend to be faithful to you. Let me court you properly. All I need is the hope of a future with you and your promise that you’ll consider my offer.”

  “All right,” she whispered back, feeling her heart lift as she said the words. “All right, Danny.” My love.

  She caught her breath. Could she have been so reckless as to fall in love with the rascal?

  Any woman would. He was brave and strong, yet so tender. She couldn’t forget how he’d hovered protectively over her this afternoon, yet readily asked for her help, assuming she was perfectly capable of holding Wallace at bay with a pistol.

  Then there were his wicked ways—his teasing and his seductions and his daring. They enticed her beyond endurance. He dared to say what she’d always thought, to do what she’d always wanted to do, to be shocking in ways she’d only imagined in the dead of night.

  That was precisely why allowing herself to fall in love with him would be utter madness. She’d given her heart to Farnsworth and had lived to regret it dearly when he’d betrayed her.

  Though she didn’t believe Daniel would betray her, she wasn’t ready to let down her guard, either. Still, she didn’t resist when Daniel kissed her long and deep, as if to promise that if she’d just trust him, he’d make it worth her while.

  Then he lay back and pulled her into his arms. “Come, lass, we’d best get some sleep.”

  “I can’t sleep yet,” she said, extricating herself from his arms. “I wish to wash off…well…the blood. You know.”

  He groaned. “What an oaf I am. I didn’t even think of it. But then, I’m not used to virgins.” Dragging the blanket up to his waist, he added, “Go on, but don’t be long. Morning’ll come all too soon.”

  She bent to give him a swift kiss, then gathered up her chemise and pulled it over her head. Taking the lamp with her, she left the stall. She did wish to wash herself, but that was not her only reason for leaving the bed. Excitement thrummed through her like the aftermath of some delightful drug, and she knew she would never be able to lie still, much less sleep. After all they’d said, she had a great deal to think on. And she always did her best thinking with a pencil or paintbrush in hand.

  Outside by the pump, she shivered in the frigid air. The water was dreadfully cold, so she finished her ablutions quickly, praying that their young host did not take this inopportune moment to come out. Then she reentered the barn and pulled on her pelisse for warmth. Finding their saddlebags, she removed her sketch pad and pencil, then returned to the stall.

  Daniel was already asleep. She was not terribly surprised. It had been a taxing day for both of them, more so for him because of driving the gig and fighting with Mr. Wallace. Settling herself on the straw at his feet, she hooked the lamp where the light would fall partly on her sketch pad and partly on him. Then she carefully stretched her legs out beside him and began to sketch.

  The blanket covered his muscled thighs and the naughty appendage between them, but his chest and arms were plainly visible as he lay on his back with his hands tucked under his head. She sketched his body first, the sculpted chest and the shoulders roped with muscle. Later she would add the tufts of hair under his arms and the thick sprinkling of it on his chest that narrowed down to the shadowy navel.

  But first, she’d do his face. He truly had an artist’s dream of a face. Not the classic sort of handsome, of course, but the sort that would make any viewer stop and remark upon the hints of character and struggle in it.

  She laid down her pencil. He did possess a great deal of character. She was probably being foolish, balking at accepting his proposal. Even if he did go to a tart once in a while after they were married, would it matter so much?

  Pain constricted her throat. Yes, it would. It would break her heart. And she had spent so many years protecting that bruised organ that she found it hard to simply hand it over to someone now.

  He said he would be faithful, and she wanted to believe him. Perhaps she would feel better in a more conventional situation, where they could come to know each other at a leisurely pace. Where she could determine that their unusual circumstances weren’t all that prompted him to marry her. Once they’d rescued Juliet they could spend time together, and that would make her more easy about marriage.

  Juliet. She groaned. She’d completely forgotten about Juliet. Tonight Daniel had created a cocoon for them where time halted, and she’d been perfectly happy to lie wrapped up with him in it. But in the morning, all of that would end, and they’d be back to dealing with Crouch and his cronies.

  Poor Danny, to be raised by a man like Crouch. How had that come to be? Had he even known his parents at all, the ones who were hanged? She had a thousand questions for him, a thousand things she wanted to know before she gave her life and future into his keeping. But for now, it was enough just to be here with him in their cozy nest.

  She turned back to sketching. She’d sketched out his entire upper body and was just beginning to put in shadow and refine shapes when she looked up from her sketch to find him staring at her. “Oh,” she said, startled, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He dropped his hands from behind his head, and she said, “Don’t do that! Don’t move!”

  “Why? What are you sketching?”

  “You asleep.” At his grin, she added, “Though now that you’re awake, I’ll have to change it to you looking very pleased with yourself.”

  He laid his hand on her calf beneath the pelisse, then slid it slowly, sensually up to her knee. “I am pleased with myself.”

  “Are you?” She returned to sketching him, wanting to get further along before he altered his pose any more.

  “What man wouldn’t be pleased to find himself being sketched by a beautiful, half-naked woman?” He opened her pelisse, exposing her thinly clad form to his ravenous gaze. The dark glitter in his eyes made her suddenly conscious of the nearly transparent chemise and the lamplight falling on her barely concealed breasts.

  She wished she could capture that look of his—the one that said, I want you. The one that always shot her through with hunger and need. She concentrated on her sketch, feeling the inevitable blush rise beneath her skin. “I thought you wanted to sleep.”

  “I did. I take it you didn’t.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Dare I hope it’s because you’re considering my proposal?”

  “Yes.” She angled a shy glance up at him. “Although I was also…well, wondering about some things, too.”

  He turned his face just enough to put it fully in shadow. “Like what?”

  “You spoke of Crouch taking you to your first…fancy woman at fourteen. You went to live with him when you were nine, is that right?”

  “That’s right.” His voice was decidedly wary.

  “And how old were you when you went to the workhouse?”

  “Why?”

  “I just want to know. I want to know all about you. Should that surprise you?”

  “I s’pose not.” He sighed. “I was six, I think. I don’t remember much about that first day, just that it was bitter cold and I was hungry. But then, I was always hungry after my parents were hanged. I was shuffled from relative to relative—nobody wanted me. The
y all feared my bad blood.”

  “Oh, Daniel,” she whispered, dropping her pencil. “That’s awful.”

  He shrugged. “The last one fobbed me off on the parish, and I was sent to the workhouse in Maldon. That’s in Essex, where I was born.”

  “So you lived there three years until Crouch found you?”

  “Yes. He happened to be in Maldon buying a cutter, and he needed an extra body to sail it back to Sussex. So he came to the workhouse and picked me out, paid them good money for me. I was large for my age, large enough anyway for what he wanted—someone to scurry up and down rigging—and I expect that Crouch found it amusing to have Wild Danny Brennan’s son join his gang.”

  “The owners of the workhouse knew who your parents were? They told him?”

  “Yes,” he said tersely.

  “I suppose they thought nothing of sending you off with a smuggler,” she said, trying to imagine being sold like so much chattel. “Even though you were only a child.”

  “They did me a favor, to be honest. Crouch treated me ten times better than the workhouse. Before I met Griff, I thought Jolly Roger the finest man I knew, because of how he took me in.” He shifted to lay on his side. “That’s why it’s so hard to think of him doing something like this—kidnapping Juliet. He’s a rascal, to be sure, but except for that fight between him and Griff, I never thought him a villain. This isn’t like him a’tall.”

  “I suppose he must have some goodness in him to take an orphan of nine into his care.” She played idly with her pencil. “What about your parents? Do you remember anything about them?”

  A wild, bleak yearning touched his rough features. “A bit. I have one snatch of memory that never leaves me. Mother used to always kiss the tip of my nose when she put me to bed. ‘There’s a brave boy,’ she’d say. ‘Brave as your da.’” His face hardened. “Yes, he was the bravest man alive, wasn’t he? Tangling my mother in his reckless adventures, taking her to the gallows with him, not caring what might happen to his own son—that was right brave of him. Shows a great nobility of character, don’t you think?”