by Cheryl Bolen
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.
“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.
“Remain here, at my beck and call, as a companion of sorts.” He caught her chin with his hand and gently turned her face towards his, his lips so close to hers she could almost feel them. She swallowed uncomfortably as her mouth grew dry. “When I tire of you, I shall return you to Bath, and your brother’s debt will be fully paid.” His hands slid down her shoulders, along the sides of her arms. For the first time in her life, she was torn, her mind and heart were warning her against him, but her body was enticed by the slightest touch of his hands, the brush of his lips. Her face flushed with heat as he kissed her softly below the ear.
“And if I refuse?” The room slowly spun, and her head filled with a strange buzzing. Her skin tingled beneath his touch. She ought to refuse. Staying here would ruin her respectability…the last thing she had left that couldn’t be bought or destroyed, except it seemed, by this dark, brooding man. Yet she’d chosen, as he’d reminded her, to come here voluntarily. She couldn’t lie to herself. She’d known of his intentions to bed her from the start, but she longed to test him, to see what he would say if she pretended to change her mind.
“Then I lock you in a room here and ride straight to Bath to find your brother.” Gareth’s words were sinister, but his voice was as smooth as honey. Helen’s eyelashes fluttered down against her cheeks as she fought to hide her emotions. It wouldn’t be wise for him to know his power over her…how easily he enthralled her with the carnal promise in his eyes. He came back around to stand in front of her.
“So, Miss Banks, will you accept?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking down at her imperiously.
Helen rose from her chair, glad for her height. She needed to be his equal if she was going to accept this bargain. He didn’t tower over her as much as he would have other women. For a long moment, she gazed back at him, weighing her options. Ruin herself and save her brother? Or save herself and sign her brother’s death sentence. Sadly, the choice was easier than it ought to have been. She would do anything to protect Martin. And she’d also not refuse herself this one chance to know passion.
“I accept, so long as you vow that my brother will not be harmed and his debt to you will be satisfied.” Her voice didn’t waver.
Gareth nodded slowly. “I will honor those terms.”
Helen held out a hand to shake upon it. “Then we have a bargain.”
Gareth looked down at her hand, a slow smile spreading across his lips. He took her hand and before she could protest, he tugged her into his arms. It was her first kiss, and not at all what she had expected. This was no innocent meeting of lovers’ lips. Gareth’s mouth caught hers, moving in deep, teasing motions that sent shivers down her spine. One of his hands coiled in her hair, twining his fingers in her silky strands. He clenched, just enough to cause her to open her mouth wider in a gasp born of pleasure at the slight pain. He plundered her mouth, his tongue diving to mate with hers.
A throbbing pulse burst into life between her legs and her knees gave way, knocking against his. He wound an arm about her waist, holding her to him. Like a limp ragdoll, she surrendered to his amorous attentions, the sensations overwhelming and intoxicating. She wished she knew what to do—how to move her lips, where to place her hands—to please him in return.
His hand in her hair held her captive for his exploring mouth, which tasted her lips, her neck, her collarbone, and behind her ears. And then it was over. He spun her gently out of his grasp, grinning at her smugly.
“That is how we seal our bargain, my darling.”
The glare she sent him only made him smile.
He gestured for her to follow him. “I’m sure Mary has prepared your chamber by now.” Helen trailed behind him as they left the drawing room. An upstairs maid stood at the foot
of the stairs, waiting.
“The lady’s room is ready, sir,” the ginger-haired maid bobbed in a shallow curtsey.
“Thank you, Mira. Which room is it?”
“The third guest room on the right, sir.” The maid looked expectantly to Gareth.
“That will be all, Mira. Run along to bed.”
Helen watched as the maid ducked back down the stairs and through a door that probably led to the servants’ quarters. It took every ounce of her will not to call out for the maid to stay and not leave them alone. She wasn’t afraid of him, but nerves made her shaky. There was so much about being with a man in bed that she didn’t know. Any woman with good sense would be nervous about her first time, even though he’d assured her she would enjoy it. Gareth tugged Helen’s hand, forcing her to follow him up the stairs and down the hall. He paused at the third room on the right, just as the maid had directed. The door stood open, the room ready for her.
It had a beautiful four-poster bed with velvet hangings and a ruby red coverlet. A thin white nightgown lay draped over the middle of the bed. Walking away from him, Helen picked the garment up, admiring its beautiful but simple design. She had never owned anything so fine in her life. Rather than bid her goodnight, Gareth came into the room and shut the door. The snick of the door settling into the frame held a frightening finality. They were alone again. Helen backed away in fear, her heart racing. Did he mean to take her so soon?
I am not ready. I want him, but I am not prepared.
Gareth walked over to the armoire that faced the bed and tapped it lightly.
“There are gowns in here. They may not fit properly, but I will have my housekeeper send for ones that will. You may rest a while if you wish. Mary will be here to help you dress later in the morning. It has been some time since you’ve eaten, I assume. The servants will prepare whatever you wish after you’ve rested.” He came back to her, cupping her chin, his voice gentler than it had been since they’d first met on the field for the duel.
“Th…thank you, Mr. Fairfax,” Helen stammered, her body shaking slightly with fear.
She’d had such courage in the field, ready to face death for her brother, but this was so different. She’d come here, agreeing to be his mistress, in a fashion. She had little knowledge of the ways of men. Would he prepare her for their joining? Or would he be ruthless, take her hard, and not think a moment about her pleasure? The second the thought passed her mind, she shoved it aside. Helen had made a study of Gareth over the last few months, seen him interact with men and women, and she knew enough of reading a person’s character to know he wouldn’t hurt her. But he also wouldn’t let her walk away from what she’d promised to give him.
“Mr. Fairfax—” she stammered.
“I give you leave to address me by my Christian name, Gareth.” He smiled again, his eyes shining with hidden laughter. “You’re afraid of me.” He teased.
Helen clasped her shaking hands together. “Of course I am. You were going to shoot me. And now I’m here…unchaperoned in your house with the agreement between us that I share your bed. I’ve never been with a man, and frankly, the prospect of it scares me a little. I would be a fool to not be a little afraid.”
“You certainly are no fool. Feisty, but not foolish. A unique trait in a woman. You’ve no reason to fear me. There will be only pleasure between us.” Gareth slowly reached out and captured her hips, his fingers digging for a better hold as he drew her against him. The smile that curved his lips heated her blood and sent her heart skittering. He rocked her into him, as though he meant to give her a gentle, teasing shake to cheer her up and relax her.
“Prepare yourself, Helen. I am going to kiss you again.” And he did. A feathery brush of lips on lips. Helen’s eyes drifted shut at the pleasurable sensation of his embrace.
The kiss changed, becoming slow and deep, his tongue easing between her lips. The sensation was strange, but Helen found herself kissing him back, her own tongue exploring him in turn. She was barely aware of him pushing her back against the bedpost until the wood dug between her shoulder blades. Gasping against him, she shuddered as he unbuttoned her breeches and slid his palm down her abdomen to part the thatch of pale curls between her legs. Gareth pinned her body with his, trapping her against the bedpost while using his hand to cup her mound. She tensed, gasping as he rubbed her with the heel of his hand. The rough pad of his thumb brushed her sensitive bud while another figure probed at the throbbing folds. She bit her lip, whimpering at the powerful zing of pleasure from his touch, and her body bucked forward. Was this how it really felt to be with a man? To feel the riotous waves of building excitement? She wanted more, so much more.
“Please!” Helen could barely form a coherent thought. His thumb tweaked her again, stronger this time, and a second finger joined the first, pushing deep into her tight sheath.
“You like this?” Gareth growled against her neck, taking tiny tastes of her skin as he slid his fingers in and out, thrusting in a slow, deliberate pattern designed to drive her mad.
Her answer was a plaintive moan. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him for support.
“Soon, I will taste you here,” he pressed firmly on the bud, and the lightning flash of that touch exploded like a fire inside her.
“And I will take you here, hard and fast. Then so slow you will beg for mercy. And just when you drift off to sleep, I’ll cover you again and thrust my cock so deep into you that you’ll scream for more.” As he spoke, his words were rough against her neck, tickling her skin, which was still damp from his kisses.
Helen gasped in breathless wonder as a powerful sensation spread through her, tingles, fire, and sparks alternating beneath her skin. Her knees knocked together as her legs gave out. His arms around her were the only thing keeping her upright. Gareth cupped her mound hard, holding her up as he continued to kiss her. She barely responded, too relaxed from the pleasure weighting her body with lethargy, so she merely consented to his rich plundering tongue. The fingers in her sheath withdrew, leaving her feeling strangely empty. But he moved his hand to her bottom, patting it softly as though to reward her for her inability to walk or talk. She knew she ought to have been indignant at his treatment of her, but she was too elated and drunk on the aftershocks of the explosion of sated desire which flashed and burned between her thighs.
He broke away when she started to seek his lips for another kiss. With a smirk of satisfaction, he left her alone in her bedchamber. She heard a click as something turned in the door. He had locked her in! She had agreed to stay here, but the sound of that lock turning infuriated her. She stumbled on weak legs to the door, tugging fiercely at the handle, which did not budge.
“Please… Gareth, let me out!” she called. “I said I would stay! Please!”
Silence.
He wanted her locked away. Why? Did he lie to her? Was he going to return to Bath, kill her brother, and return to take her to his bed? Surely, he couldn’t be so cruel. Helen twisted at the knob again, hating that it didn’t open, didn’t budge an inch. She turned to look about the room. The thick paned windows weren’t the type to open, and she wouldn’t be able to break through it fast enough to escape without waking the entire house with the noise.
Helen choked down a panicked sob and abandoned the door. She prayed with every bit of her heart that Gareth hadn’t decided to return to Bath and kill Martin. Maybe he had another reason for locking her in, even if she couldn’t fathom why.
“Gareth, please…” she whispered into the wood of the door. Still silence. A wave of exhaustion swept her with such force that her head was too thick with a fog that made it hard to think. Gareth wouldn’t kill Martin. He’d made a promise to her. Tomorrow she would demand to know why he’d locked her away tonight, and she would not let him do it again.
She retrieved the nightgown and, after a moment, prepared for bed. When she climbed between the sheets, she buried her face in the soft mound of pillows. Hot tears leaked from the corner
of her eyes, soaking the cloth. Helen fought off the drowning despair that swamped her, but she couldn’t hold long. Between this morning’s near disaster on the field and the way Gareth had so coldly abandoned her just now, she was completely confused, both mentally and physically, and her crying grew harsh and ragged.
What had she done? She was trapped here by her own foolishness. And Martin… Would he try to find her? Would Gareth kill him if he came here? It was a long while before Helen cried herself into a deep sleep, unaware of the shadow that lingered outsider her door, listening to her weep.
CHAPTER TWO
Gareth listened to Helen tug on the locked door handle. He was on the verge of going to his own chambers when she began to cry. He froze mid-step. It was such a quiet, sweet, sad noise. It reminded him of a time when he’d captured and caged a wild thrush.
The little bird had been stunned at first, quiet and unsure, before it began to sing a sad little song, a plea of mercy. The thrush had only lasted a few weeks in a cage before its chirps lost their wild charms. Gareth knew that he had to release the bird if he ever wished to hear its song again, but the fear of letting go struck him deep. He had worked hard to make the bird his own, and he didn’t want to release his hard won prize. But he knew with certainty that the bird would lose its song. Finally, he’d had to set it free. The memory of letting it go was burned into his heart. As the cage latch sprang open and the bird shot out of its prison, it fluttered away, and Gareth’s heart fell. He would never hear it sing again.
