by Lauren Smith
Horrified she had actually hit him, she dropped her pistol and it landed with a thunk in the grass. She ran over to him, reaching out to check the damage.
His dark eyes flashed in surprise as she clutched his arm and examined the wound.
“Oh Good Heavens!” she cried. “The one time I fire one of these stupid things…”
By the time she realized her higher feminine tone had betrayed her, Gareth, in one swift motion, had dropped his own pistol and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her against him. He ripped the mask from her face. Her pins sprung loose from the rough movement, releasing the bound up hair. The loose waves dropped down against her shoulders, the soft strands caressing her cheeks as she ducked her head, hiding her face from him. Gareth’s look of rage turned to sheer astonishment.
“Where is Martin Banks?” His voice was rough and low. “And who the devil are you?”
His grip was too strong and Helen started to lose feeling in her arm. “Please, you’re hurting me,” she gasped.
Her plea went ignored. He didn’t release his hold on her, but he lightened his hold so it was no longer bruising.
“Where is Banks?” He shook her and shouted angrily.
“Unconscious, in our lodgings.” Helen tried to break free, but his iron grip held her fast. “I could not let you kill him.” His eyes sharpened at her defiance.
Worthing and Bennett ran towards them.
“A woman?” Worthing called out in surprise. “Really, Fairfax…you should have told me,” When Worthing strode over to her and Gareth, his eyes shifted between them as they stood locked together by Gareth’s vice-like grip.
“Let go of her, Fairfax,” Worthing slowly reached out and pried her loose from Gareth’s arms.
Gareth batted Worthing’s protective arm aside and gripped her by the shoulders, rattling her. “Who are you?” he snarled, his white, even teeth shining in the dim light. “Why are you here in Banks’s place?”
“Let go of her,” Bennett growled and moved a step toward Gareth. Worthing lifted a hand to stay Bennett and tried once more to intervene, but Gareth dragged her away from Worthing’s reach.
“Well? Answer me! I have no intention of hurting you, but I will get answers.” His angry gaze bore into her like a hot poker.
Helen bit back furious tears. “I’m his sister. He is my only family.” Her body started that awful shaking again, this time from the shock of being alive and unhurt. “I would be utterly alone should he perish.”
“Don’t you dare cry. I’ll not be moved by a woman’s tears,” he threatened, but his grip softened immediately, belaying whatever cruelty hung in his words.
“Fairfax,” Worthing cautioned at the same time Bennett said, “Release her!”
Everything happened so fast, it was almost a blur. Bennett tried to step between Gareth and Helen but stumbled back as Gareth pummeled him in the stomach. Helen screamed and struck out at Gareth, slapping him hard across the face. Worthing dove out of the way as Gareth tackled Helen to the ground. Bennett tried once more to rescue her but was felled by another punch from Gareth.
“Damnit Fairfax, hold off!” Worthing knelt by the unconscious Bennett.
“Keep that bloody fool away from me. I’m not going to hurt her,” Gareth growled. “I want her to answer me.” He was gazing down at her, a new light in his eyes, a light that was less dangerous, or perhaps more so, but in a different way. As though he was appraising her, or assessing her value, the way a man studies a good piece of horseflesh at the market when selecting a ride. It was not the gaze of a man who would strike out at her or wound her.
Helen gasped, struggling beneath Gareth’s body. She wasn’t afraid now, but more angry at the way he had manhandled her. He sat back on his heels, his knees on either side of her hips, still pinning her to the ground. His chest heaved with panting breaths, and his palms fell to his thighs.
She attempted to raise her hips but couldn’t budge. “Please, let me go.” He tensed at her movement, his fingers digging into his thighs.
“Whatever shall I do with you, Miss Banks?” Gareth’s breath evened out. “We have ourselves quite the problem.”
“Fairfax…” Worthing’s tone held an edge of warning. Gareth ignored him, a calculating gleam in his eyes.
Swallowing hard, she met his gaze as evenly as she could.
“I have a proposal for you, Miss Banks,” Gareth said peacefully, but the shadows in his gaze made her wary. One of his hands drifted to her hair, allowing her blonde curls to cascade around and through his fingers. He suddenly smiled, taking one lock and twining it around his index finger, his eyes meeting hers. “If you come to my home with me, I will forget the debts owed to me. Or I send you back to Bath, find that scoundrel you call a brother, and finish this duel properly.”
Helen blinked. Go home with Gareth Fairfax? She may have been an innocent, but she knew that if he were to take her to his home, she would be compromised—ruined for marriage. Certainly ruined for any other man. A blush warmed her whole body just thinking of what he would do to her if she agreed. Ruined. Part of her was filled with a secret, dark curiosity. Would he seduce her? She should have been more frightened by the fact that she was curious enough to wonder what it would be like to be with him. Women seemed to like seduction under the right circumstances. A spark of heat shot through her body at the thought of Gareth willfully seducing her.
“If I agree to go with you, what would you do with me?” The words came out thick, her tongue seemingly unable to form the words as she dared to ask about his intentions.
He didn’t speak for a long moment. Instead he rubbed his thumb and forefinger against the lock of her hair. Finally, he let the loose curl drop and settled his hand back on his thigh, shifting his hips slightly. It pressed him harder against her and her own body flashed with a strange, queer sort of fire.
“You can settle your brother’s debts to me one way or another.” His tone was black as midnight, dark as sin, and rather than frighten her, it made her tremble with longing. She had heard enough women speak behind closed doors at the balls to know that what could happen between a man and woman in bed could be pleasurable for both parties.
Worthing stood up and eyed his friend. “Fairfax, you can’t just take her home.”
Gareth’s eyes searched her face and settled on her lips. “She’s already said that Banks is her only relative, Worthing. No one will miss her. It’s her choice. She’s free to leave, or she can come with me and save her brother’s life.”
“You can’t be serious. The young woman was only defending her brother. You cannot ruin a lady over that.”
She watched the exchange, wondering why Worthing was so ready to defend her.
“Well, Miss Banks?” He continued to study her, his body keeping hers trapped as though there really was no option but to accept him. “Make your choice. Dawn is chasing us, and I, for one, don’t wish to be here when the sun fully rises.” He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I promise to take good care of you and give you so much pleasure you might feel you’ll die from it.” The feel of his warm breath against the sensitive shell of her ear sent sparks shooting down her spine and she tensed.
Helen gazed up at him, desire running riotously through her body, and her mind whispered dark suggestions, borne of long years of need for things she barely understood. This was a chance to taste temptation, to be with a handsome man and know passion. There would never be love, she knew that, but passion might prove a memory worth having, especially with a man like him. Did she dare, though? Any chance of marrying, having children, would be at an end, and if anyone discovered where she was, her reputation would be ruined. Even obtaining employment as a maid would become difficult. Yet Martin would be safe, and he may yet find a way to make a living and support himself and her. It was a feeble hope, but that would be the only future she could hope for. Gareth had said he’d treat her well. Really, what choice did she have?
“Yes, Mr. Fairfax. I’ll go with you.�
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The finality behind her words was heavy, and Gareth tensed above her, eyes widening. He hadn’t expected her to agree? A ripple of power flowed through her. She liked surprising him. He scanned her face again, his eyes darkening, but not with anger. This time it was something else that gleamed in their depths.
Worthing moved towards them, one hand raised. “Now, hold on Fairfax. I must insist you think this through.”
Gareth slid off Helen and grabbed her arms, pulling her onto her feet. She barely heard the men arguing. All she was aware of was Gareth’s hands on her body as he lifted her up and into him, letting her lean against his arm, as though aware she needed help to stand. The muscles beneath his shirt were taut and large. Heat emanated against her palms when she rested them briefly against his chest as she finally pushed away to stand on her own. He kept hold of her wrists, though, despite the tentative tug she gave to be released.
“I’m not in the mood for a lecture, Worthing. You take care of that…fellow. I will bring Miss Banks to my house. After you’ve seen to him, you can come and rescue the woman if you feel you must.” There was a mixture of amusement and warning in Gareth’s tone that confused Helen. “Provided you can convince her to go.”
She tugged at her wrists, still trapped by his hands. Even though she’d agreed to accompany him, the fact that he still held her caused an unsettling heat to stir between her thighs. Helen clenched her legs together, desperate to stop the sensation. She tugged her hands again.
“Stop that,” he growled and started walking.
Helen obeyed instantly. He was too strong for her to resist, so she followed, struggling to keep pace with his long-legged strides. They crossed the field and moved in the direction of the road where Helen had been dropped off by the hired conveyance. Gareth’s coach stood waiting. The driver jumped down to lower the steps, and Gareth pulled her against him as he lifted her into the vehicle. Once they were settled inside, sharing the same seat, he shouted an order to the driver and the coach jerked forward. She rubbed her wrists, wondering if they’d bruise, and tried not to look at him. She failed.
He turned his head towards the window and away from her, his expression cool and unemotional. She couldn’t believe that he actually desired her. Not when he’d had his pick of women in Bath. Compared to those other ladies, Helen knew she didn’t measure up, so Gareth’s choice made little sense.
“Why did you want me to come with you?” Helen dared herself to ask when the silence had stretched too long between them.
He fixed his cold gaze on her once more. “Because your brother must learn that his actions have consequences. If I have you, it will cause trouble for him. He’ll have to find a way to marry you off after I’m done, not an easy task for a man with a ruined sister. It won’t amount to the money he won off me, but it will be some measure of revenge.”
Helen shut her eyes for a few minutes, jostled by the battering of the coach wheels on the rough road. Her stomach roiled with nausea. So he didn’t desire her. Using her was only about revenge. Disappointment weighed her shoulders down, pressing on her chest. She sucked in a much needed breath. It was a cruel sort of feeling to go from believing she was desired to learning her seduction and ruination were merely payback for her brother’s carelessness. In that moment, Helen felt very small and alone, uncared for, and unloved in the worst way. The most awful part was the way it seemed to take the wind from her sails. All of her high spirits, even the angry ones, were dashed upon the rocks. Would it be worth it—going with him, exploring her own passions—even when he might not feel them in return? There seemed no ready answer.
When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her still. This time, his eyes were more curious than cold. He had a beautiful profile—strong and straight like the statue Michelangelo’s David. How many hours at the balls and soirees had she spent studying each feature of him? Too many. As a wallflower, she’d had endless hours to memorize him, fantasize about him. What would she have said if only he’d asked her to dance once? A girlish dream, one that now lay dead in the field they’d just left. She would never be that woman, the one that handsome men would ask to dance or pay court to. She was just another woman who would go without love, and now, without marriage. Still, his face would haunt her forever. She could recall each line, each shape of his features…draw them perfectly from her dreams, if needed.
“What is your given name?” His question drew her from her thoughts.
“Helen,” she replied, her eyes drawn to the curve of his lips as he smiled.
“Like fair Helen of Troy…do you bring ruin to my kingdom?” he mused, more to himself than to her.
“I only wished to save my brother’s life. Had I died, he would be no worse off than before. But had our positions been reversed… I would have no one to protect me.”
“A tragedy to any woman,” Gareth agreed.
At least he understood. She had no money and no friends. Without her brother, she’d be lost to decent society. She might have to sell herself to survive. Helen’s lips quivered at that thought—to be so desperate for food that she would… A dark thought trespassed in her mind. Was agreeing to Gareth’s proposal any better? She shivered at where such ideas led.
“Calm yourself.” There was an underlying callousness to his words that rekindled her fire. “I’ll not hurt you. No woman has ever left my bed with any complaints.” His tone was layered with smug satisfaction. He leaned back in the coach seat, stretching out long, muscled legs, and crossing his boots at the ankles. She was reminded of a tomcat merely biding his time to make his move on the unsuspecting female cat he planned to mate with. She was the female cat in this scenario, and it did not make her feel safe at all. What little she’d heard of him from other ladies in society was that he wasn’t rumored to be a cruel man. That was her only solace—that he wouldn’t truly harm her.
The ride was long. Helen couldn’t help but wonder what type of house he had, to live so far from Bath. At some point, fatigue overcame her. She didn’t want to show weakness in front of him, but when her eyelids kept falling shut, she knew she was lost. Her head fell against Gareth’s shoulder as she drifted off to sleep. She woke a while later when the pattern of the horses’ hooves changed and the wheels slowed to a halt. Still drowsy, she raised her head from his shoulder, blushed when she realized he was staring at her, and scooted a little ways away. Running her hands through her hair, she tried to tame the wild waves.
Gareth opened the coach door and helped her out. He kept a gentle but firm grip on her arm as they walked up a set of stone steps. A matronly woman with graying hair waited for them just inside the door.
“Good, evening, Mary. Prepare a room for Miss Banks. She will be our guest for a time,” Gareth said to the woman.
Mary’s eyes widened in surprise, but she did not question him.
Helen gulped. How long was her stay to be? Gareth had not given any indication of its duration.
“Mr. Fairfax, how long do you intend to keep me here?” She held her breath so long her lungs burned.
He did not look at her as they followed Mary. “As long as necessary. I’ll likely tire of you in a few weeks.”
His words were a slap to her soul and she flinched.
Mary departed, winding her way up the grand staircase to prepare a room for her. Helen was once more alone with the brooding and frightening Gareth Fairfax. He still held her arm as he escorted her to a mahogany and wine colored drawing room where a warm fire was lit. A pair of deep-backed chairs faced the fire, and Helen was pushed toward the one furthest from the door. Gareth took the other, his chair slightly angled toward her.
The dimness of the room, lit by only a few candles, and the roaring fire’s warmth was seductive and inviting, like a strange sort of dream. Perhaps she was dreaming, and none of this was real. She’d wake soon and prepare a meager breakfast for Martin and…but she knew the truth. This was all too real and she was very vulnerable. A little tremor stole through her arms and chest.<
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“You find yourself in an unfortunate predicament, Miss Banks. I owe your brother a bullet. The duel was not finished. I’ve taken you, by your choice, in his place.” His eyes reflected the fire’s glow, wild and untamable.
Helen could not respond. Fascination rippled through her as she studied his lips, his eyes, his dark hair that gleamed in the firelight. He was a devil, but a handsome one, and his harsh gaze made her heart beat rapidly. It was madness to long for his seduction, to pray for it with every breath. Surely the fires of hell awaited her for her thoughts.
“My temper has cooled. I have no interest in shooting anyone at the moment, but your brother owes me a great deal of money.” She’d expected him to be more businesslike, but there was a pensive musing to his voice that drew her in…made her wonder what he was truly thinking.
He seemed to be watching her for some reaction, but Helen did not understand the weight his words carried.
“We have no way of repaying you,” she replied gravely. “I used the last bit of money I had to secure Mr. Bennett’s support for the duel. I had hoped to gain a position as governess…that is, before Martin quarreled with you. If you give me time, I’m sure I could think of a way to settle our debt.”
“Would you deny me, should I demand a different form of payment? It is why I brought you here, after all.” The question was delivered very slowly and deliberately. His gaze raked up and down her body more savagely than she thought a look ever could. Helen paled, her earlier suspicion had been right.
“What would you have me do while I’m here?” Her words came out a strangled whisper. She knew what he would say, hoped breathlessly that he would, as dangerous and foolish as it was to wish for him to desire her.
Gareth stood up and, in one elegant move, came around behind her chair, his hands falling lightly onto her shoulders. He slowly swept her long hair away from her neck, baring part of her throat. One of his fingers drew a lazy pattern on her skin, teasing the tiny hairs which rose at his touch, and she shivered. He bent over the back of the chair, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke, stirring her senses.
