Only Mine

by Cheryl Holt

  Didn’t he deserve to misbehave a bit prior to that horrid future arriving?

  “Tell me about Miss Fenwick,” he said.

  “I have no idea who that is.”

  “Annabel Fenwick? I met her last night on the verandah. She’s here with Michael Boswell. Isn’t that your new friend?”

  “Yes, but I haven’t been introduced to Miss Fenwick.”

  “I’d like her to personally entertain me. When such a ravishing beauty is on the premises, I don’t need an opera dancer to sit on my lap. Speak to Mr. Boswell about her. Ask if he’d be willing to share her for the duration of the festivities.”

  Wesley’s jaw dropped. “Ask to share her?”

  “Actually, I don’t want to share her. I want her for my own. He can have her back after the celebrating is over.”

  “Honestly, Benjamin, I’d rather be struck dead than pose such an indecent question. What’s happened to you? The Benjamin Grey I used to know would never consider such a depraved notion.”

  “I’m still a bachelor, Wesley, and I intend to act like one. Isn’t that the reason for the party?”

  “Yes, but if you’re so eager to dally with Michael’s mistress you’ll have to inquire yourself.”

  Benjamin wondered how Miss Fenwick would reply to such a lurid proposal. He wondered how Michael Boswell would view it. How intimately were they attached?

  In Benjamin’s opinion, a doxy’s head could be turned by any valid proposition. They were always interested in the man with the fattest purse, and while he wasn’t currently a pauper, in a few weeks he’d be obscenely rich.

  Would Miss Fenwick be impressed by that fact?

  He couldn’t guess, but thought he should find out.

  He couldn’t figure out why he was so intrigued by her, and with their meeting on the dark patio, he couldn’t even accurately describe the color of her hair or eyes. But she’d been gorgeous; that had been easy to discern.

  He’d overslept so he hadn’t yet crossed paths with her in the light of day, and now that he’d finished his scathing letter to Soloman he was determined to locate her. He was anxious to discover if she was as stunning as he recalled.

  Wesley had invited her, and Mr. Boswell had brought her, but it was Benjamin’s house and Benjamin’s party. Did Miss Fenwick understand that she had a duty to please him in any way he desired?

  He would clarify her role, and if she declined to participate as he requested he would enjoy having the chance to change her mind. It wasn’t being overly vain to say that no female could resist him.

  THE MINUTE HE STEPPED outside, Annabel saw him coming.

  She’d been searching for him all morning and had been surprised when he hadn’t shown up at any of the spots where she’d been. To her consternation, she was much too curious about him and keen to pursue their acquaintance.

  She’d dressed specifically for him, having donned a bright green gown with the lowest neckline she owned. Her corset was laced so tight she could barely breathe, and she was exhibiting an amount of cleavage that had the other guests taking furtive glances.

  The women were all doxies, and they were an insipid bunch. None of them could pull off the sort of grand glamour at which she excelled. She’d been taught about fashion by a French courtesan who’d fancied her father for a time—until a wealthy merchant had swept her off her feet and she’d left.

  But she’d given Annabel her wardrobe, along with invaluable lessons such as how to pick the perfect hat and where to place a seductive feather.

  Several of the men were lined up to compete at target shooting while the women were loafing in chairs. Annabel should have been seated with them, but with Benjamin Grey approaching she wanted to do something outrageous so he had to notice her.

  Her brother was explaining the rules, that contestants would get three shots and the winner would be the one closest to the center of the target. She’d played this game with him before. He used it to position himself as a leader of the socializing.

  She waltzed over and said, “May I join in?”

  “Absolutely not, Annabel. The men shoot. The ladies watch.”

  “Are you afraid I’ll beat them? How will their egos abide the shame of losing to a female?”

  Behind her, the other ladies tittered into their fans while the men huffed and preened.

  “Oh, let her, Boswell,” one of them said to Michael. “If she has her heart set on it what can it hurt?”

  “Thank you kind sir.” Annabel grinned and batted her lashes.

  She was next to the table where Michael had arranged the pistols. She grabbed one and, standing sideways to the target out in the trees and without seeming to glance at it, she raised her arm and fired, certain in advance that she’d hit it dead center.

  There was a shocked silence then gasps and clapping.

  “How did you do that?” a man demanded.

  “I have no idea,” she claimed, although she knew very well. An American circus performer had stayed with them when she was twelve. He’d shown her dozens of amazing tricks that stunned spectators.

  “Do it again,” another said, sounding angry.

  “May I?” she asked Michael.

  “Yes, if you promise you won’t make a fool of yourself.”

  He handed her a second pistol, and she shot again without peeking at the target.

  This time, the comments were fast and furious.

  “By Jove!”

  “Would you look at that?”

  “Blimey!”

  There were other, quieter grumblings from those who’d hoped to win and impress the ladies, but she ignored them and turned to Benjamin Grey who had finally arrived.

  “Miss Fenwick,” he said, “you may just be the most interesting woman I’ve ever met.” He spun to Michael. “I assume you’re Boswell?”

  “Yes,” Michael replied.

  “I’m Captain Grey, Wesley’s brother.”

  “Hello, Captain.”

  “I trust you won’t mind if I borrow Miss Fenwick for a bit.”

  “Miss Fenwick chooses her own companions, Captain Grey.” Michael pretended to be magnanimous. “If you’d like to borrow her, you’ll have to speak to her directly. If I tried to answer for her, I’m sure she’d tell me to stuff it.”

  “Come, Miss Fenwick,” Captain Grey said.

  He offered his arm, and she thought about refusing simply to aggravate him, but in the end she grabbed hold and he marched off, with her hurrying to match his quick pace.

  In the intervening hours since they’d previously conversed, she’d forgotten how incredibly dynamic and virile he was. Masculinity oozed from every pore, and she wondered why she’d blithely traipse off with him. They were rushing across the park and headed for the woods beyond.

  “Where did you learn to shoot like that?” he asked, breaking the taut silence that had festered.

  “An old friend of my father’s taught me.”

  “Why am I suspecting that you know all sorts of tricks?”

  “I can’t deny it.”

  “And where did you get that gown?”

  “At a little shop in Paris. Where would you suppose?”

  It was so easy to lie, so easy to spew false details. Usually, she voiced them in pursuit of some scheme her father or brother was hatching. But why prevaricate with Benjamin Grey? She was certain—should he catch her—he wouldn’t take it well.

  Why deceive him on such a small fact? Perhaps she’d told so many lies in her life that she could no longer tell the truth.

  “Am I displaying enough cleavage to satisfy you?” she asked.

  “I’d be happier if you were naked.”

  “Captain Grey! You shouldn’t be so blunt. You’re making me blush.”

  “I couldn’t possibly.”

  “You’d be surprised. I’m a very modest person.”

  He glared down at her. “When you’re strutting about in that outfit? You want me to believe you’re modest?”

  “Yes.”
<
br />   “I don’t.”

  They’d reached the trees, and the park vanished behind them. He led her down a path, and shortly they were on the banks of a pristine lake. As she’d figured the prior night, there was a gazebo next to it.

  “What are you thinking, Captain?”

  “I’m thinking, Miss Fenwick, that we will misbehave. Right here. Out in the open.”

  “I can’t allow it.”

  “We’ll see what you can allow and what you can’t. I’m eager to be entertained, and you’re exactly the female I require to provide the most enjoyment.”

  The remark had a swirl of butterflies winging through her tummy. There was a pocket sewn into the seam of her skirt, and she had a dagger hidden there. Occasionally, if she was with dicey characters, she carried a tiny pistol her father had had designed for her. But on this day, when nothing out of the ordinary should be happening she just had the knife.

  She hoped she could talk herself out of trouble, and she’d hate to flash a weapon. If she did, he’d likely send her and Michael packing. They’d have to trudge back to London without Michael having had a chance to gamble. He’d have to generate some other method of earning a few pounds, and the notion of tagging after him, of helping him meet and groom a new friend was extremely exhausting.

  Captain Grey was escorting her to the gazebo. Was his intent to tryst inside it? Was that his plan?

  Because she’d been raised around men and had witnessed so many of their flaws and foibles, she was typically in control of any situation. She could predict how they would act before they knew themselves, but Captain Grey might be a different kettle of fish altogether.

  He assumed he would get his way with no balking on her part, and why wouldn’t he assume that? It was a bachelor’s party, with loose females specifically invited to be...well...loose.

  “Where are you from, Annabel?” he asked, slowing the pace.

  “London.”

  “Who are your people?”

  “I have no people,” she lied.

  “You’re alone in the world?”

  “Not alone. I have many close acquaintances.”

  “Such as Mr. Boswell?”

  “Yes. He’s very dear to me.” That at least wasn’t a lie.

  “Would he give you up?”

  She frowned at him. “Give me...up?”

  “Yes. I’d like you to spend the next month with me. Name your price. I’ll pay it.”

  “Captain Grey, you have misconstrued as to the sort of woman I am.”

  “I don’t think I have.”

  They’d arrived at the entrance to the gazebo, and he pressed her to the newel post by the stairs. His lanky, muscular body was crushed to hers, and she could feel his chest, belly, and loins, could feel his legs tangled with her own. She was actually quite faint—no man had ever previously overwhelmed her.

  “Your hair is red,” he murmured. “I was wondering. I couldn’t tell last night in the dark.”

  “It’s not red,” she complained. “It’s auburn.”

  “A very amazing shade of auburn.”

  “I inherited it from my mother.”

  “Is she a great beauty?”

  “She was. She’s been deceased for many years.”

  “And your eyes are blue. Did you inherit those from her too?”

  “No, from my father. He always claimed they were the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen.”

  “He was right.”

  With a quick flick of his wrist, he pushed off her bonnet, dipped down, and kissed her. She was so surprised by his bold advance that at first, she simply stood there and let him proceed.

  He was big and handsome and determined, and it wasn’t as if she’d never been kissed before. She enjoyed it very much, but it led to places she had no intention of traveling so she never started in because she would never finish. When a man realized she wouldn’t, they ended with harsh words and recriminations.

  “Captain Grey,” she said, drawing away, “please stop.”

  “No.”

  He nibbled a trail across her cheek, down her neck. His naughty hands went to her bottom and pulled her even nearer. She was suddenly melting with desire, and she was panicked by her reaction.

  She stepped away, and when he reached for her again, she held up her palm, warning him off. She wasn’t positive he’d heed her and just in case he didn’t, she slipped her fingers into her pocket and wrapped them around her dagger.

  The blade wasn’t long enough to do any significant damage, but it could certainly make a fellow sorry he hadn’t listened.

  “Don’t act like a virginal little miss,” he scolded, his lust burning red hot.

  “I’m not a little miss, as you’ve definitely noted, but I’m not loose either.”

  “You’re a man’s mistress!”

  “I am his friend.”

  “He brought you here—where debauched behavior is on the menu. It doesn’t say much for his opinion of you.”

  “He and I have known each other for ages.”

  “I don’t like flirting and lover’s games. Don’t play them with me.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “What is your ploy, Annabel Fenwick? And don’t pretend to be confused by my question. You practically ooze temptation, and you’re flaunting yourself to reel me in on a tight leash.”

  “I am not! And I have no ploy. Before I bumped into you on the verandah last night, I hadn’t thought about you at all.”

  He gestured from his body to hers. “You feel what’s occurring between us. Don’t deny it.”

  “You’re exceptionally virile and intoxicating, Captain. I’m sure any woman would be bowled over by you.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “There’s something happening when I’m close to you, something important.”

  “You’re wrong. It’s not important.”

  “Did you wear that gown just for me?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes, absolutely.”

  “You prance about looking like that, but I shouldn’t notice?”

  “Yes, I want you to notice. I admit it.”

  “But I should ignore you.”

  “You’re engaged to be married, Captain.”

  “So? I’m not married yet.”

  “You’re promised to another so I can’t dally with you. I’m sorry.”

  He studied her, his gaze narrowing as he tried to figure her out, but he never would. She’d been taught by the master of deception, that being her cunning father, and she was wicked in a manner Captain Grey couldn’t begin to fathom.

  “Tell me the truth,” he said. “You don’t care that I’m betrothed. It doesn’t concern you in the slightest.”

  “I do care, Captain. I have a very tender heart.”

  “A tender heart?” he scoffed. “You’ll never make me believe it.”

  “If I got involved with you, I would fall madly in love, and in two month’s time when you strolled off to walk down the aisle with your bride, I’d be devastated.”

  He assessed her for an eternity then he snorted with disgust. “Gad, but you’re good. You’re really, really good.”

  “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “I assume you and Mr. Boswell are working a scam on my brother, Wesley, but you should watch out.”

  “I have no scam proceeding against your brother. I have no designs on you. I’m simply hoping to spend two weeks in your beautiful home and enjoy your gracious hospitality.”

  He eased away, his appraisal turning caustic. “Leave my brother alone. If you hurt him, you’ll have to answer to me.”

  “Will you listen, Captain? I have no devious intent toward anyone. I am a guest.”

  “Sure you are, Miss Fenwick. Sure you are.”

  He started off, and to her stunned surprise she was mildly bereft at his departure.

  When he’d been standing so near, when they’d been bickering and sniping, the air had cracked with the energy their proximity generated. She’d never felt anyth
ing like it.

  She’d tantalized him in ways she hadn’t planned. Or perhaps it had been in ways she’d absolutely planned, but she could never follow through as he expected.

  She’d seen too many of her father’s friends cheat on their wives, and she would never be that woman in any wife’s life. She had a higher opinion of herself and would never treat another female so despicably.

  “Goodbye, Captain,” she murmured too quietly for him to hear, but he heard anyway.

  He stopped and whipped around. “What am I supposed to do with myself for the remainder of this stupid fete?”

  “It’s a party. We can be cordial.”

  “I don’t want to be cordial with you, Miss Fenwick. What I want from you is a different matter entirely.”

  “I realize it is, but I can’t give it to you.”

  “I suggest you reflect on that response.”

  “I don’t have to. I know what I can consent to and what I can’t.”

  “We’ll work on it. I have powers of persuasion you wouldn’t believe.”

  “I imagine you always get your way.”

  “Yes, I always do.”

  Then he was gone, and she plopped down onto the bottom step, staring at him until he disappeared into the trees.

  She stood on shaky legs and headed to the manor, thinking she probably ought to change her clothes. The green gown had supplied much more attention than she’d bargained for, and she didn’t dare keep it on.

  NNABEL LOAFED IN THE corner of the main parlor, avoiding the leering stares of the male guests and the jealous glares of the female guests. Several men had stopped to chat about her shooting skills, but she was so uncommunicative that they didn’t tarry.

  Supper was over, and it was a meal she hadn’t attended. Since her encounter with Captain Grey earlier in the afternoon, she’d remained in her bedchamber, figuring she shouldn’t tempt fate by bumping into him again so soon.

  The evening was about to devolve into a more raucous event, and it was the facet of her abnormal life that she liked the least. Though she came from a family of debauched libertines, she had few vices of her own, her penchant for a glass of liquor being the sole one worth mentioning.