"Oh . . . you're an absolute cad!" She wrestled with him, trying to keep him away.
But it was a futile exercise. Although her chest heaved from the exertion, he dominated her easily. With her hands held down, she groaned as she felt him loosen her laces. Her unsupported shift fell down to one shoulder, and then his warm, searching fingers roamed over the intimate swells and valleys within her bodice.
"Well, it's not in here," he murmured wickedly, his hand lingering over one of her breasts.
"Then stop touching me!" she demanded, blushing to the tips of her toes. But when he refused to comply, it was anger, not humiliation that drove her to the final rash act. Her teeth clamped down on his roving hand.
"Ugh!" Avenel grunted, and pulled his fingers from her teeth.
Angrier still now that he had forced her into such unladylike behavior, Brienne found new strength. While Avenel examined his bitten fingers, she wiggled from beneath him, scrambled to her feet, and started to run.
"Use your teeth again, and I'll put you in a cage." With natural grace, his hand reached out and grabbed her petticoats. There was a rending tear, and Brienne screamed as she felt several of her underskirts rip off in his grasp. This tripped her up, and soon she was down again—but this time, on top of him.
"If you don't give up the comb, love, I'll be forced to rip everything off you. Shall I begin here?" He clutched the front edge of her bodice.
"Would you believe I've lost it? Perhaps it fell when Queenie bolted."
"A lady like you lose her only jewels? I think not." He swept the curtain of her hair away from her mouth. "Give me the comb, or suffer the consequences."
"I haven't . . ." Her words dwindled away as his mouth rose to capture hers. Violently she turned her head away. But by rejecting his advance, she only allowed him a better view of her gaping bodice as she lay over him. Eventually, however, her attention was called back to him—not because of the hungry stare that seemed to eat her alive, and not because of the grip that held her better than a ball and chain, but rather because of the roaming hand she felt on her backside. Beneath her ripped petticoats, Avenel's hand was ever so slowly sliding up her bare thigh.
"Is no place sacred to you? Dare you look even under my skirts?" she asked venomously.
"I dare" was all he said before his hand finally cupped her smooth, naked buttocks. The chill of the night on her skin, skin that was always warm and well protected under several layers of clothing, was a strange sensation. But the touch of his palm, like a brand on her flesh, shocked her to her very core. Yet as he fondled her, even her prudish core seemed to melt and grow hot with his expert caresses. Her unreliable body was betraying her again. She was so stunned that she hardly noticed that he'd begun to kiss her.
First her neck, then her chin, and finally her tear-stained cheeks accepted his gentle assault. Releasing an incoherent, shuddering plea, she felt his tongue, hot and enticing, in the hollows of her throat.
"Where is the comb, love? I fear, should we continue, that your first experience with a man will be in the cold, and on the ground," he whispered in her hair. His fiery hand still stroked the smooth flesh of her derriere.
"Damn you!" Half sobbing, she stood up and fumbled for her modesty. When her skirts were back down and her laces retightened, she slipped her hand into a hidden pocket in her cloak, and flung the comb at him. "May you rot in—!"
"Careful! We cannot have you talking like a lusty barmaid."
She watched through teary eyes as he took the jeweled hair ornament from the ground and placed it securely in the waistband of his breeches. She found bitter consolation in the fact that her escape had forced him to dress in a hurry. He'd obviously not even had time to tuck in his shirttails properly, nor to don a jacket, despite the coolness of the evening. Perhaps he'd freeze to death on his trip back to Osterley, she thought hopefully.
"How did you know I had gone?" she asked, not bothering to hide her hostility.
"I had a feeling that you were in my bedroom while I was bathing. I suppose that was when you got the comb. When you didn't appear for dinner, Cumberland went to fetch you and found you were missing. I guessed you had gone this way since the last time you tried to leave I saw you go in this direction from the gallery."
"Then the next time, I will try a different route." She backed away from him, wishing she could stop feeling so frightened of the future, but it loomed before her now, as dark and brooding as he was.
"There will be no next time." Without warning, he picked her up and placed her on Idle Dice's back.
"There will be a next time," she cried, beginning to dismount until he stopped her.
"There will not. I shall make sure of it." He shook his head and for once seemed to speak his mind. "You little fool, galloping off on Queenie in the middle of the night. Did you know you could have been dragged? As it is, you've injured your ankle getting it loose from the stirrup. I have seen it before—an inexperienced rider getting her leg caught and being dragged for miles. 'Tis not a pretty sight when they finally catch the horse." He snatched up her soiled cloak and swiftly mounted behind her. Quashing any further rebellion with the muscles of his arms, he wrapped the cloak tightly around her. He pressed himself so closely against her back that she was forced to ride on the pommel with her limbs resting on the animal's shoulder. They started back to Osterley, with Idle Dice taking a leisurely pace toward home.
"But what about Queenie? Hadn't we ought to fetch her?" she asked, looking back at him. His stony face made her heart stop.
"You should have thought of that when you stole her. The best we can hope for now is that she will make her own way back tomorrow and that we won't have to shoot her for a broken leg."
"I . . . meant to, return her," she said softly, her voice trembling miserably.
"Did you, now?"
"I just cannot be here when the earl arrives. Why can't you understand that? All this would be unnecessary if you would just return my comb and let me go."
"Your fighting is for naught, Brienne. You run like a panicked deer even though I have tried to make things pleasant for you during your wait."
"But he will be here soon, and—"
"What makes you think Oliver Morrow will be here soon? He's been given so many handicaps, I should think it will take him a while to overcome them."
"How long is a while?" she persisted anxiously.
"He could arrive tomorrow; he could take several months. It all depends upon him."
"Months!" She was astounded. Her tears of frustration dried up in the wake of this new information.
"Perhaps," he added enigmatically, "so diminish this sense of urgency. I would think that if it takes him that long, you could become quite comfortable at Osterley—that is, if you would allow yourself to be."
"I would know why you believe my father may take that long to arrive here?" she demanded.
"He's in Maryland now," Avenel explained patiently. "With the war going on, he will be hard pressed to find a ship bound for the British Isles." He appeared to be enjoying his explanation, as if for some reason he were responsible for the earl's inconveniences. " 'Tis more than likely he will have to come up from St. Christopher in the West Indies, and that trip alone can take months. In all likelihood we have some waiting time, my wildflower. Of that I can assure you."
"But I cannot stay here overly long. It's not right." She raised her glossy auburn head. "What can you be thinking of?" she asked, giving him a look of complete distrust.
"You don't want to know. 'Tis best," he said abruptly, and then changed the subject. "However, if leaving is your wish, you have the power to go at any time of the day or night. You may even have my coach at your disposal."
"Are you crazed? You tell me I'm your prisoner one second, and the next you tell me I may leave. Why did you follow me, then?"
"You did not earn the privilege to go, my love. Shall we again go through the motions that we wasted on the cold ground and reenact them
in the warmth of my chambers?" He smiled and pressed against her; his hand went to her nape, as if in an effort to brush away her hair and ready her for a kiss.
"You have the comb. I see no further need to repeat that disgusting display." She grew stiff and pulled away from him as far as she could without taking another fall.
"Not even for your freedom? Of course, for that we would have to go further than we did this evening. We'd have to . . . shed that cloak of maidenhood, so to speak." His other arm tightened possessively beneath her breast. She was infuriated.
"If I were a snake, I wouldn't shed my scales for you." She tried to twist his arm from her waist but was grossly unsuccessful. He only laughed.
" 'Tis your choice. But in the meantime I've no appetite for racing around in the middle of the night to fetch you. If you persist in this vein, I warn you, I will keep you locked in your room." He looked down at her, but she could not read his expression at all. "Or better yet, locked in mine."
"How is it you think to get away with this? Despite my father's poverty, you still have no right to treat me, the daughter of an earl, this way, holding me prisoner, and then forcing me into . . . this evening's . . . activity." She found herself blushing, but this only made her that much more hostile. "There isn't a decent personage of the crown who would allow you to do this!"
"So where are all these noblemen? I must say, Brienne, you have an appalling lack of protectors. In fact, taking you has been the easiest task I've performed in the past twenty years," he mocked.
"You haven't taken me yet." The second she had uttered the words, she fervently wished she could take them back. It seemed she had all but dared him.
"True. But if you're anxious to start, we could play a game of hide and seek. You hide the comb, and I shall seek it. Only this time, I bid you to place it in a more provocative spot." She could feel his warm breath on her neck. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin on the exposed part of her nape. When his tongue caressed her, her shoulders went up in self-protection.
He laughed. "How refreshingly naive you are, my love. Are you sure you do not want to gain your freedom tonight?"
No! she wanted to shout at him. Instead, she jerked her head toward Osterley's lights and watched them in bitter, stony silence. How weak and naive I must appear to him, she thought, hating herself. But at the very least she consoled herself with the fact that she hated him more.
CHAPTER TEN
When Queenie finally found her way home, she was not unscathed. Brienne watched on as the mare pranced about in the courtyard of the stable block with vines tangled in her usually impeccable mane and with many scratches on her finely boned legs, which seemed to spew dark red blood all over the alabaster pebbles lining the drive. Kelly calmed the animal down and soothed her by rubbing her silky neck with his palm until she could be brought into the stable to be treated. He did not cast any condemning looks at Brienne, but she almost wished that he had. She felt terrible that the mare had been so frightened and hurt. Brienne stared after the animal as she stood by the front steps to the house; her vision became blurred with tears of guilt.
"There, there, now. No occasion for tears." She turned to find Cumberland standing next to her, as he had been when Avenel brought the mare back. She could not stop tears from streaming hotly down her cheeks.
"It is because of me, you know. I suppose he has told you."
"Yes, he told me the entire story. But the mare will be all right. You'll see. She's just fussing now. She'll be like new soon." He took her by the shoulders.
"But she is bleeding." She hiccuped, feeling altogether miserable. "Avenel will never forgive me for hurting her." She turned her face from the older man's view. She didn't know why she should even want Avenel's forgiveness, but somehow it seemed very important.
"Horses are large animals. It seems like a lot of blood, but really it is not. She's back home now, and all in one piece. That's more than reason for you to be glad."
"But you saw Avenel's face when he led the mare home." Brienne shuddered, casting down her violet eyes that were reddened from crying and lack of sleep. "It was like the day we first met. He had that awful bloodthirsty look. Avenel hates me, I tell you. He absolutely hates me."
"There, there, love. He doesn't hate—" Cumberland tried to console her, but he was interrupted when she started to purge herself of all her horrible thoughts.
"I know. It's because of my father. Avenel somehow blames me for whatever has happened to him." She faltered. "Perhaps he is right. Perhaps there is something in my blood that makes me do the wrong thing. Things have never gone well for me, nor did they go well for my mother. It seems from as far back as I can remember, I have been running from my birth. Trying to avoid something that was terrible and obscene. Maybe I have Oliver Morrow's blood after all. I've always gotten curious looks wherever I've gone. People find me strange," she berated herself. "Perhaps I'm from the devil after all." Flooded with self-pity, she ran down the steps, not wanting to hear Cumberland's words of reassurance.
Needing the fresh air and to be alone, she knew a long walk through the grounds would do her good. When she returned to the house later that evening, maybe she would find Queenie in an improved condition.
"How—how is she, Kelly?" It was dark by the time she finally appeared in the stable. Her hands felt like two clumps of ice, and her piquant face was chapped from the cold.
"Lady Brienne?" Kelly held the lantern up to see her small cloaked figure standing at the end of the stable.
"Is she still bleeding?" she asked tentatively.
"Why, that daft mare is doing just fine! But you must get yourself inside, my lady. It doesn't do to have you out here in the cold." His concern showed in his youthful blush; she guessed that Kelly could not be more than fifteen years of age.
"She will be all right, then? I—I saw her when he brought her back."
"She'll be stiff for a few days, but that serves her right— taking advantage of you like that. She ought to be whipped."
"No, really, it was all my fault. She's a lovely animal. It was a stupid mistake. I didn't know what I was doing." Brienne's lower lip trembled, and she knew she was getting herself upset all over again. She turned to leave, saying only, "Good night, Kelly. I'll check on her in the morning."
"Good night, Lady Brienne," Kelly called eagerly to her as she walked away. "And don't you be worrying over the mare. She'll be just fine—you'll see."
Brienne tried to smile and nod her head, but she found she couldn't, so she walked back to the house in dismal silence.
When she went through the front door, she greeted the wizened footmen and then made her way wearily up to her room. All she wanted was to sleep and to stop her mind from going over and over again all the grim possibilities of her past. For a good part of the day she had sat on the marble bench near the house and wondered exactly what had caused all her troubles. She was Lady Brienne to all those around her, but she was dressed little better than a pauper and had no money of her own. She was homeless and had no relatives to speak of except the man who called himself her father. Yet he had never provided for her nor cared for her. And then there was the awful nagging question of her birth.
Her mind had flitted back and forth between the miniature in her chest of drawers and the portrait of the earl in the gallery. God, how she hated the thought of the earl's blood in her veins! She hated the man as much as Avenel Slane did. But to be illegitimate was too awful to think about. The shame that could be brought upon her was terrible to ponder. Her mother had always let her believe that the cruel man who had visited that time in London was her father. But perhaps that had been her mother's way of protecting her. If a man like the earl had reason to question her parentage, he could create grave consequences for both mother and child. Was she now learning the same lesson her mother had learned—that no matter how objectionable the earl was, she would have to accept him as her father? And that to do otherwise might prove fatal? Just thinking these t
houghts made her head ache.
Now, up in her bedroom, she sat stiffly on the yellow settee wondering what she should do next. Vivie was nowhere to be found; she missed her cheerful companionship this evening. Glumly she stared down at her hands, which were now chafed and raw from the elements.
"Are you dining like that, my dear?"
She looked up and saw Cumberland standing timidly just outside the open door to her bedchamber. "Why, no. That is, I had not expected to go to dinner."
"I saw Vivie, and she is now pressing one of your dresses so that you can come downstairs for dinner." Cumberland made no move to enter her room. Instead, he stayed back at a proper distance.
"Well, I . . ." She shook her head. "Could you tell him that I am not feeling well? I just cannot tonight." She frowned and looked into the fire.
"If by 'him,' you are referring to Avenel, you need not worry. He won't be joining us tonight. He has just left."
"Left? Where has he gone?" She raised her eyes inquisitively.
"He's gone to London."
"Because of me? Because of what I did to Queenie?"
"No, no, my dear! He has been planning to renew some old friendships. I don't expect he will be back for some weeks."
"Weeks?" she repeated dumbly. Now, why did his going away bother her? She should be elated, but oddly enough, she felt even worse than she had before. She felt empty. Was she developing a liking for that cold, hard man? Was it possible? Then, as if to deny this, she said almost too brightly, "If it's to be just the two of us, then I shall be delighted to come downstairs to dine with you, if you will give me some time to make myself presentable."
"Why, of course. And you must excuse me for being so forward as to come upstairs like this." He blushed, and his wrinkled, pink cheeks took on an iridescent glow. "I just was not sure if I would see you downstairs otherwise. Perhaps you can forgive me?"
"Of course. It need not be mentioned again." She smiled at him tenderly. Through all her troubles, he always seemed to be the one who was on her side. She knew he cared for her despite his compliance with Avenel. His thoughtfulness at times was quite touching.
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