Face to Face (The Deverell Series Book 2)

by Susan Ward

  Merry’s eyes did a frantic dart of the street. Rensdale had pulled her into a deserted alley. Her eyes shifted back to his face and she nodded.

  Rensdale’s smirk made her stomach turn. “Ah, you do know your place, at last. Not quite the hellion you were in Cornwall. But then you do not have your family near to shelter you from your own folly. Or has someone taught you your rightful place with a man, my dear?”

  He leaned into her, pressing his body hard against her in a revoltingly intimate manner as his thick lips roamed the curve of her neck. Merry felt as if she’d be sick. When his lips touched the side of her neck, every muscle within her went cold and still, and Rensdale laughed softly before lifting his face.

  There was a look of triumph in his eyes as he stared at her. “No maidenly outrage and blushes? No slap of the face. I should have thanked the boy. Not hit him. Come.”

  He started dragging her again.

  “Where are you taking me?” Merry asked, struggling to keep pace.

  Rensdale didn’t look at her. “To my rooms first. I’ve spent the better part of a half of a year searching for you, you puling trollop. Your rescue deserves some kind of reward, don’t you think?”

  Merry swallowed hard, and tried again to break free of his hold. His hand only clutched her more fiercely.

  “I demand you release me,” Merry exclaimed. “If you don’t, I will make sure you rue the day you didn’t.”

  He crushed her against him, making her thrash in his arms as his lips covered her neck with loathsome kisses. Then he sank his teeth into her shoulder and a scream tore itself from Merry’s throat.

  “Your father is going to deliver you in marriage to me gladly, my dear,” he threatened, his amber eyes hot shots against her face. “So there is no reason to wait to indulge my pleasure with you. Perhaps I might even marry you after I’ve collected the bounty for your safe return from your father. You do come with a hefty dowry, and I am sure the Duke of Dorset will sweeten the bride’s purse to save you from your shame. But I fully intend to sample your wares before I am committed to the purchase!”

  He clutched her ruthlessly against the bulge in his pants, arching her backward as his mouth slowly started to descend to her breasts. She heard a rip, and realized he’d torn her bodice with his teeth.

  Doggedly fighting to contain her rising panic, she forced the resistance from her body, going pliant in his arms. She heard Rensdale’s soft laughter as his mouth lifted briefly from her breasts.

  “Oh my dear, someone has taught you well,” he breathed, his vile lips brushing her ear.

  A slight space appeared between them, separating their bodies just enough, and with all the force she could muster, she brought her knee swiftly up, making perfect contact in that perfect spot to level a man.

  His hands fell away from her and Rensdale groaned out in agony. The second he doubled over, she ran.

  “Goddamn bitch,” he growled, and a series of oaths followed her trek, but his voice was growing more distant as she scurried down the alleyway.

  Blinded by fear, she ran as fast as she could, as far as she could until Rensdale could be neither seen nor heard.

  By nightfall, Merry realized she was lost. She found herself huddled in a darken doorway, bodice ripped, bedraggled and afraid. With the coming of night, gentlefolk had deserted the streets. The sparsely lit walkways were crowded with loud and boisterous men of a different ilk than she had seen in the daylight hours; drunk and rough of manner.

  She knew not which direction to go to find the docks and Corinthian, and worry Rensdale was out there searching for her kept her in her pathetic hiding place.

  That she had no one to blame for her current predicament was no less disturbing than the fear no one would find her. Or what Varian’s reaction would be if he did.

  ~~~

  His room at the Rose and Crown Inn was dark when Varian entered. His instincts sharpened in alarm, and he struck a match to candle. It was then he found the boy, slumped in a chair, quietly sobbing into the cup of his hands.

  His senses had known something was amiss, but finding the boy a sobbing, discomposed mess confirmed his greatest fear. Only one thing could make the boy this distraught. With numbing fury, Varian asked, “What’s happened? You would not be here if all was well with Merry. What’s happened to Merry?”

  The boy’s face shot up, reddened by his tears, his black eyes uncharacteristically wild with emotion. “I don’t know. Tom and the others are searching for her. We went ashore. I don’t know where she is or what happened. We’ve been searching all day. Nothing.”

  The boy was rambling and he grabbed Indy, lifting him harshly up from the chair. “What do you mean you took her ashore? Dammit lad, answer me.”

  The boy broke free from his hold. “One minute we were together. The next thing I know I’m waking in the dirt with a bump to my head and Merry was gone.”

  Varian released the boy, his eyes searching the lad’s face. “What are you saying? That Merry hit you to escape?”

  The boy’s eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t know what happened, but not that. She would never run from me.”

  Varian’s eyes widened as he met Indy’s burning stare.

  The boy sank heavily into the chair. “I don’t know what happened. Find her. I will never forgive you if you let harm come to Merry.”

  Varian studied the boy. There was much here to deal with, but now was not the time.

  Without another word, he rushed from the bedchamber.

  ~~~

  It was Mr. Seton who found Merry. When he sank to the ground and reached to pull her from the darkened corner of a building entryway, she began to fight him wildly. She struggled against his hold as he eased her onto her feet.

  “Damn it, Merry, stop hitting me. If you hit me again I’m going to leave you here,” he warned and her eyes widened, as if unable to believe she was really seeing him. Then she melted against him sobbing. Cursing, he gently brushed back her tangled curls and said, “It’s a fine time to get all affectionate.”

  “Mr. Seton,” she wept, clutching his coat. “I did not think anyone would find me. Not ever!”

  He noticed her ripped bodice and his demeanor became more nervous. “Quickly, Merry. Tell me what happened. We haven’t much time.”

  “Rensdale,” was all she could say through the tears clogging her throat. The sharp widening of Mr. Seton’s eyes confirmed to Merry the name was not without meaning to him.

  He jerked her torn bodice in place as best he could, and began to pull her along with him. “Did he harm you?”

  Merry shuddered, shaking her head. “He kissed me and ripped my dress, but I got away before he could do more.”

  Mr. Seton glared. “After the melodrama you’ve caused, a little rough handling is the least you deserve. I’m not even going to ask how you know Rensdale. I don’t want to know and we haven’t the time. I need to get you back to ship before Morgan finds us.”

  He froze in his tracks and stared out into the darkness. His tall, lean body held the posture of a wild animal tuned into danger. He turned around to face her and clutched her chin forcing her to meet his eye.

  “Unless I’m imagining things, Morgan is going to be upon us very soon. Merry! Pay attention.” His voice intensified with greater urgency. “You must never tell Morgan of Rensdale. Do you understand? If he learns Rensdale is behind this dastardly business, there will be no stopping the Captain.”

  The words had been spoken harshly, though with genuine concern. Comprehension came slowly to Merry as the panic of the proceeding hours faded into a new panic.

  Mr. Seton swooped her up into his arms and began to march more briskly toward the docks. “An angry man is a rash man. Unless you want to see Morgan hanging from the gallows for murdering a peer of the realm, you must never let him know Rensdale is near and that he harmed you. Never, Merry. Never tell the Captain this was Rensdale’s doing,” he warned one last time, then Morgan was upon them.

  She wa
s transferred without ceremony into Varian’s arms. Mr. Seton quickly put in, “She’s well, Varian. A little harsh handling and a torn dress. That’s all. She was huddled and frightened when I found her, and wept down my shirt buttons. Ruffians tried to steal her from the boy, but as you can see she escaped, is well, and has learned her lesson.”

  Varian’s gaze dissected her face in a fast moving glance and he growled, “When will you cease in your willful disobedience of my orders?”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, reminding herself of Mr. Seton’s frantic warning. Merry carefully averted her face by staring into Varian’s chest.

  His brisk strides carried them away from Mr. Seton.

  “Don’t disobey me again. I have never ordered once in a manner intended only to be high handed. I cannot keep you safe if you will not let me. Don’t make me watch you die out of stubbornness.”

  Staring up at Varian’s face, her response was the urging of a loving heart fully distressed over the worry she’d caused him. The tears erupted in loud, choking spurts she couldn’t stop, which made wet his shirt front and harsh rivers on her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” was all she managed before the vat of her emotions ripped wide, the entirety of the day’s events—from her worry over Indy, to her fearful moments with Rensdale, to the long hours in the dark afraid, to this moment now with a clearly enraged Varian— it all streamed from her body in uncheckable torrents.

  By the time they reached the road to the inn, Merry’s anguished outpouring of emotion frightened him and made him regret having been so harsh with her. He sensed there was much he did not know about Merry’s ordeal. He wondered what Mr. Seton had withheld from him, only adding to his internally contained alarm. He felt a pressing necessity to discover in minute detail what had happened to her, yet he could not bring himself to force his questions upon her.

  He looked down at Merry curled against his chest. She was too distraught to even meet his gaze. Varian couldn’t imagine what his expression bespoke, but the few people they passed scattered when they saw him. He could feel the quick rise and fall of her shallow breathing, and realized the fast beat against his flesh was his own heart.

  He knew too well what could become of a woman unprotected in this part of the world. Hideous visions filled his mind, and he wondered if she’d been harmed, hated knowing he hadn’t protected her, and the awful wait to probe the unknown further. He couldn’t do it now. Whatever containment he had would be gone.

  The inn was stifling and loud when they entered. He could feel the heavy weight of stares and continued to his chamber. Even amid the deafening chorus of sound from the taproom, he could still hear her near soundless sobs and breathy words. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” It was all she seemed able to say and almost as though she couldn’t stop it, over and over she apologized, until they were alone in his room. He kept her in his arms, but turned her so he could see her face fully.

  “Did someone hurt you?” Varian said his voice a ragged mixture of worry and fury.

  She knew he was asking about something more serious than the rip of her dress. A horrible image rose in her mind of Rensdale mauling her. Keeping careful mind of Mr. Seton’s instructions, she whispered, “No. You found me before anyone could harm me worse.”

  A shudder moved through the rock-like arms holding her and his eyes gaze became even fiercer. Emotion was flashing unchecked in the dark depths of his eyes.

  “Damn you, Merry. Why would you do such a foolish thing?”

  The tension on the chiseled lines of Varian’s face warned her to be cautious. On a weak whisper, she said, “I’m sorry.” Her hand trembled as she lifted it to his cheek. She offered him a kiss, not knowing what words would soothe him. Whatever was in him was powerful and frightening.

  It was an act of instinct propelled by aching fear. Varian laid her on the bed. She was tired and afraid, her flesh nearly limp beneath his fingers, and the unnatural exhaustion of her quiet muscles only propelled him further into disarray. His need raging inside him was wrong, yet he couldn’t find the will stop himself. She needed his comfort, reassurance and gentleness. But Varian desperately needed to feel the burning presence of life in her flesh.

  He was undressing her, his mouth hovering just above hers and she stared at him with wide doe-eyes anxious and confused. He began to kiss her, long passionate kisses, while he continued the removal of her garments. He held her face between his hands and his eyes were burning black embers. “You could have died tonight,” he said, continuing with his task. “If you want to go back to Falmouth I will take you. But don’t die out of stubbornness.”

  She sat up, her half naked body a breath from him, her heart in her throat, her feelings in her eyes. “I don’t want to go to Falmouth.” It was the truth. It gave an added ferventness to her expression.

  Varian gently pushed her back against the bed. Merry felt him kiss her legs, her thighs, her stomach and between her legs. Then all of her senses were alive and claimed only by him, and she could feel the raging current of emotion in him, pulsing madly through his flesh. Then there was searing flame wherever he touched and no thought. She was aware of only his need, his want, and this strange intensity she felt inside of him.

  She closed her eyes, a little ashamed, as his mouth was tasting her. He was whispering things that should have melted her with mortification. Her climax came, a violent release and his body was not even inside her. When he entered her, she was soft and wet and welcoming. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him tightly against her flesh. Then there was nothing but Varian’s passion and his want and his fury.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  When Merry woke the next morning, she was alone and naked in the bed. Exhaustion had pulled her into slumber, not want of sleep. Varian had not been his usual controlled self in his passion last night. His lovemaking had been a fury. He had done shameful things to her, and she had reveled in it. She had fallen asleep atop him, his arms a possessive circle around her form, his manhood still buried within her.

  She had been enraptured feeling his flesh buried inside her at the moment of his release, then afterward in the contentment of their bodies languid, knotted, and at peace. Why did he not make love to her like that always?

  He had been so angry, more so than she had ever witnessed before. So little of his fury had shown on his face; it had definitely shown in his flesh.

  She sat up in bed and found a woman sitting in a chair. Merry wrapped the blankets more tightly around her and stared.

  “I’m Mrs. White, Your Grace,” said her stout companion. “His Grace fetched me to help you bath and dress.”

  Merry took in a deep breath. His Grace? Why did Mrs. White call Varian that, how did he manage such a grandiose fiction, and why had he left her this morning? Carefully Merry asked, “Where is…” she didn’t know what to call Varian. She didn’t know what this very proper centurion of a woman knew about her. She didn’t know why Mrs. White was here and what to make of her morning.

  Seeing her blush, Mrs. White’s manner softened at once. “His Grace had business to attend this morning. He didn’t want you waking alone after your ordeal last night.” She moved to pick up a delicate silk robe Merry had never seen before and held it open. “There is too much riffraff under foot these days, if you ask me. The streets are not safe for a decent woman at night. It broke my heart, it did, to see His Grace carry you through the lobby last night.”

  Merry could feel the blush starting to burn her neck and cheeks. If Mrs. White thought anything of finding her naked in Varian’s bed, it didn’t show on her matronly face. It surprised Merry how effortlessly the lie fell from her lips. “When will my husband return?”

  The older woman smiled, wrapping the robe tightly around her, before guiding her toward the dressing table. She began to brush Merry’s hair, and said, “When you finish bathing and dressing, you are to join His Grace below for breakfast.”

  There was a knock on the door, Merry startled, but Mrs. Wh
ite only gently patted her taut shoulder as she bade the girls to enter. Once the serving girls had completed preparing a bath, the elderly woman in gray silk shooed them away and helped Merry into the tub.

  Mrs. White had an immensely soothing way about her. As the older woman carefully washed her, she gaily chattered in sweet and comforting tones. “What a fine figure of a man, His Grace is. So handsome and strong. We were all worried, we were, when you came up missing. But I knew His Grace would find you before you came to any harm. What a beauty you are. No wonder His Grace was in such a fury last night.”

  Laying her head back against the rim of the tub, Merry tried to relax beneath the patient working of the woman’s hands. It would do no good to let this woman know her assumptions were wrong, that she wasn’t Varian’s wife, and whatever fiction Varian had related was merely a ruse.

  Mrs. White babbled on happily and Merry corrected her not once. It was better this way, she told herself, as she climbed from the tub, was patted dry and quickly dressed in a cameo satin gown. It was new, Varian must have purchased it while ashore, an elegant garment with the Spanish sleeves with crystal beads artfully arrange in the shape of flowers on the slashes.

  Seated before the full length mirror, she watched as Mrs. White carefully plaited satin ribbons into her hair. In no time at all, she had transformed Merry into the proper image of a lady. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. A lady…not the mistress of a man of notorious legend, but a woman who suited to perfection the lie Varian managed so well.

  The older woman was enjoying herself immensely. “We will show off our innocence, Your Grace. Just a touch of glow here and there to add innocence to the rose. His Grace will be enchanted and not reminded of the worry you caused him.”

  Once Mrs. White finished, Merry thanked her, excused her, and went to find Varian. The upper halls and stairs were narrow and straight, but the inn was crowded, and she was greeted by fast and proper curtsies as she made her way to the dining room. The people around her were strangers, but for some strange reason they were aware of the lie Mrs. White swallowed without question. They treated her with the dignity of such lofty rank, and quickly eased from her path as she made her way to the dining chamber.