His mouth tightened as he thought of the girl’s shabby, made-over clothes. Clearly that bastard, Rupert Crowe, did not intend for her to have a pence of what was rightfully hers.
“Are you certain there was a later will?” Lucian asked.
Angel nodded. “At least two, but neither can be found. The first one Papa executed after my mother left him so that she would inherit nothing. Then after my brother Charlie died, he made one that left everything to me.”
“Did you actually see that second will with your own eyes.”
“Aye, Papa showed it to me and to my uncle.”
Now Lucian knew how he would achieve his revenge on the Crowes.
And fittingly, Angel would be his instrument.
He would find her father’s later will, and then he would have the pleasure of legally taking Ashcott’s fortune away from the Crowes.
They would curse the day that they had decided to make him their victim.
Eager to launch his scheme, he asked Angel, “Where can I find your uncle who saw the will?”
“In the graveyard. He is dead, too.” Lucian bit back a curse.
Angel, her voice weighted with frustration, said, “My worst fear is that the Crowes may already have found the will and destroyed it.”
If they had, Angel would not have a prayer of recovering what was rightfully hers.
She patted her stomach and said wistfully, “I want our baby to inherit Belle Haven someday.”
“Angel, there is no baby,” Lucian said in exasperation. “Making one is not quite as easy as you think.”
“It is not?” She looked so surprised and perplexed that he had to smother a sudden urge to simultaneously laugh and hug her. A fierce desire to protect her suddenly gripped him.
“No, little one,” he said gently, “a man must do more than merely lie on a bed beside a woman to give her a baby.”
“What must he do?”
“He must make love to her.”
Her dark brows knit in puzzlement. “How does he do that?”
“He takes her in his arms—”
“But you did that to me.”
“He also touches her in special places that I did not.”
“What special places?”
Angel looked so fascinated and delectable that Lucian was seized by an overwhelming desire to show her instead of tell her.
And why should he not? Before the day was done, she would be his wife.
He touched the tip of her breast and caressed it lightly with his finger. “There.”
From her amazed look, he knew that no man had ever touched her like that before. Through the thin, black material of her gown, he felt her nipple harden, and she gave a little moan. She was so responsive to his touch that he was certain she would be a wildly passionate little creature in bed.
His own body reacted with embarrassing fierceness to her innocent provocation. God’s oath, but she was so sweet.
Lucian knew just as surely as he knew that his manhood was swelling to unusual size that he was playing with fire, but he could not help himself any more than he could prevent his erection. Smiling at her, his hand dipped lower.
His fingers lightly teased her belly. “And there.”
Chapter 8
Angel gasped, her face flushing hotly with the sheer pleasure of Lucian’s touch. It unleashed wild sensations, simultaneously exciting and aching, deep within her.
“Then,” he said, his eyes so intense and hot that she was reminded of molten silver, “if I wanted to give you
baby, I would caress you in an even more private place.”
He gestured vaguely toward the apex of her legs that suddenly seemed to be bathed in an aching heat. She found herself yearning for him to touch her there.
“Would that give me a baby?”
“No, to do that I must unite my body with yours and plant my seed in you.”
Angel stared at him uncomprehendingly. He sounded like a farmer cultivating his crop.
“You see,” he continued softly, “when people say a man and a woman have lain or slept together, they do not mean that they have merely reclined on a bed together. They mean that they have joined their bodies.”
Angel’s brows knit in puzzlement. “How could our bodies be joined? You mean by wrapping your arms around me.”
He paused as though he were searching for the right words.
“Tell me,” she prodded.
A faint flush crept into his face. “I would, er, insert part of me inside you.”
Her eyes widened in amazement. “Truly?
“Truly?”
“What part of you?”
He glanced downward. Angel followed suit.
At the sight of the bulge that strained against his tight breeches, she gave another gasp, this time of shock and fear instead of pleasure.
Angel could not believe her eyes. Surely that would never fit in her! It was huge.
When he had been naked this morning, she had noted the curious difference in his anatomy there, but then it had been small and flaccid. It could not possibly have swelled into this giant appendage, could it?
But even as she watched, the bulge seemed to grow larger.
She gulped, then stammered, “That .. . that is the part you are talking about?”
“Aye.”
Dear, merciful heaven, it seemed even larger now. She trembled at the thought of having that giant thing thrust into her.
He took her face gently between his hands and raised it toward his own. “I am sorry. I do not mean to frighten you, but I am helpless to do anything about it.”
Angel jerked her face from his grasp, looked down again, and blurted, “No wonder Lady Bloomfield said it was agonizing for a woman the first time she slept with a man.”
Lord Vayle looked positively chagrined. “That is not necessarily true,” he said sharply.
“Why? Are some men smaller than you?”
“Aye, but that is not the reason.”
“Surely you do not expect me to believe that would not hurt!”
“With the right man, only briefly.”
“I definitely do not think you are the right man for me,” she said nervously. “We cannot possibly be married. You are much too large!”
His fingertips gently stroked her face. It was so pleasant that for a moment Angel almost forgot her fear.
Almost.
“I promise you, little one,”—his deep, rich voice was as caressing as his fingers—”that I would see that you would like it very much.”
“No, I do not think that would be possible,” she said with conviction. “I am quite certain that I would not like it at all. In fact, I do not think I would like any man making love to me.”
He smiled ruefully. “That is not what your soon-to-be husband wants to hear.”
“But there is no reason for you to marry me! Don’t you see, you have done nothing!”
“I have seen that from the beginning,” he said dryly.
She remembered the certitude with which she had assured Lady Bloomfield that she had slept with him.
“Dear heaven, what have I done to you,” Angel wailed. “I did not understand. I have unintentionally misled everyone.”
“Aye,” he said without rancour.
“You did not sleep with me. You did nothing to me!”
“No,” he agreed, “nothing.”
“No wonder you were livid with me. I wonder that you did not throttle me.”
“I thought of it.”
“I must tell everyone that I made a terrible mistake. Then you will not have to many me.”
“Save your breath, little one. It will do no good. After that scene in my bedroom this morning, no one will believe you if you belatedly tell them the truth now.”
“Not believe me! Why not?”
“Among other things, the bloodstains on your night rail.”
She frowned. “I cannot understand how they got there. I did not hurt myself.”
“Un
doubtedly your stepfather put the blood there, but no one will believe that either. They are all convinced that I robbed you of your virginity.”
It was a word Angel had not heard before. “What is that?”
He rolled his eyes heavenward. For a moment she thought that he did not mean to answer her, but then he said patiently, “A girl is a virgin until a man makes love to her the first time. When he does, he breaks her virginal barrier and she bleeds. It is how a husband knows that his wife has slept with no other man before him. If a girl gives her virginity to a man who is not her husband, she is considered a fallen woman.”
“Fallen?” Angel inquired uncertainly.
“Dishonoured.”
“Oh!” She had thought of honour differently, in terms of honesty and integrity and courage. “So that is what Lady Bloomfield meant when she said you had robbed me of my honour.”
“Aye, everyone is convinced that I did so.”
There was no anger in his voice or his expression. His silver eyes were oddly tender, making the sensations he always seemed to stir within her stronger than ever.
“But you did nothing,” she protested.
Now that the sharply carved planes of his face were relaxed, Angel thought him one of the handsomest men she had ever seen.
“Nor did you.”
He caught her face gently in his hands. When he rubbed her cheeks lightly with his thumbs, she felt as though she would melt.
“You are as much your stepfather’s victim as I am. He has made the world believe that I have ruined you, even though I have not. I cannot abandon you to face the world’s scorn alone.”
Angel perceived that beneath Lord Vayle’s veneer of cynicism, he lived by his own rigid code of honour, and it required him to marry her even though that was the last thing he wanted.
“Listen to me, Angel. No other man will marry you.”
“Therefore, you must do so!” Her gaze met his stubbornly. “I do not care! Do you not see it would be wrong to marry you when you have done nothing.” Especially when you do not want me.
He studied her assessingly for a moment, then said sternly, “You will do me far more damage if you refuse to marry me.”
“Why?” she demanded in surprise.
“Because my honour would be destroyed as well as yours. I would be regarded as an unspeakable blackguard for apparently ruining you so publicly, then not marrying you.” He gave her a calculating look. “Perhaps you do not care about your honour, but I—”
“I care very much!” she interjected hotly.
“As I do about mine, That is why I beg you not to dishonour me by refusing my suit.”
Angel frowned in consternation. “Are you saying that I must marry you to save your honour?”
“Aye,” he answered gravely, “that is precisely what you must do.”
Questions of honour could be more perplexing than Angel had ever imagined. The choice she must make dismayed her. She could not deliberately cost a man his honour. Yet neither could she disregard her father’s warnings against marrying a man who did not want and love her. There was also Kitty to think of.
“But you want to marry Kitty.”
He shrugged. “It is too late for that now. After that scene in my bedroom this morning, her parents would not permit it, and she would not want it.”
No doubt he was right, Angel thought glumly. She knew that Lady Bloomfield was opposed.
Angel dropped her gaze and caught sight again of the bulge in his breeches. Unnerved, she blurted, “I could not possibly marry such a large man.”
A sound escaped Lord Vayle that was part groan, part laugh. His silver eyes suddenly gleamed. An irresistible grin softened his hard, dark features, making him look boyishly mischievous and deliciously handsome. He took her face in his hands again, and his mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was at first gentle, then grew bolder and more demanding.
It made Angel tingle all the way to her toes. She never wanted him to stop.
He might not want to marry her, but she realized in that instant that she wanted to marry him.
Wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything.
When the long kiss ended, he grinned down at her as though he were fully aware of the effect it had on her. “Any other objections?”
Sanity was slowly returning to her, and she mentally catalogued them in order of importance. She would save the most important—that he could not love her—for last.
“I cannot marry a man who thinks I am so appallingly ugly that he calls me a horror. I know that I am very plain, but I truly do not think I am a horror.”
To her surprise and indignation, he started to laugh. “Oh, little one, you are priceless.” He hugged her to him, smoothing her hair gently with his hand. “I think you are very pretty, especially when you smile. Even when I was angriest at you, I never thought you were that kind of horror.”
She was perplexed. “What other kind is there?”
“The one I was talking about is spelled w-h-o-r-e.”
“What does that mean?”
“A, ah, fallen woman, but I know now you are not that kind either.” He drew back a little and grinned down at her. “Have we taken care of your objections to marrying me?”
Angel wished he would not smile at her like that. Not only did it affect her heartbeat, but it made refusing his offer all the harder. But she must stand firm, she reminded herself. He neither wanted nor loved her.
“I cannot marry a man who will beat me daily.” His grin faded, and he looked insulted. “I will not beat you, Angel.”
“That is not what you said this morning.”
“That was when I thought you were in league with the Crowes to trap me into marrying you.”
“What?” she cried, grievously offended. “How could you think that when I was the one who warned you of their plot?”
“What else was Ito think when I awoke and discovered you in my bed beside me.”
Angel was appalled and outraged. “How could you think me such a despicable person?”
A sardonic smile tugged at his lips. “It was quite easy, actually.”
Belatedly Angel understood what he had been saying to her stepfather that morning. “So that is what you meant by my doing Sir Rupert’s dirty work for him! I would never, never stoop to anything so low.” Her indignation was rising like a river at flood stage. She had never been so insulted in her life.
Her father’s exhortation to her brother flashed through her mind: “Never allow anyone to cast aspersions on your character. If any man does so, you must call him out... You must never permit a man to challenge your honour without demanding redress.”
She glared up at Vayle. “My lord, you have insulted my honour and I must have satisfaction. I challenge you to meet me on the field of honour.”
For a moment, he merely looked flabbergasted. Then he laughed uproariously at her, as though she had told him some particularly funny joke.
Thoroughly incensed now and determined to make him take her seriously, she cried, “I have no glove, so I must use my hand.”
She would have slapped his face then had he not caught her wrist before her hand could impact on his cheek.
“God’s oath,” he exclaimed, “you are serious!”
“I have never been more serious in my life,” she informed him frostily.
“You are also out of your bloody mind?” he thundered. “You cannot challenge me.”
“Why not?”
Lucian uttered a succinct expletive. “Because a woman cannot challenge a man to a duel.”
Angel tilted her head proudly. “Well, I can. And I am doing so now. Papa said one must not let a slur upon one’s honour go unavenged.”
“Angel, don’t be a fool. You cannot hope to defeat me.” Lucian was not bragging, but merely stating a fact. His reputation with a sword caused most men to go to great lengths to avoid duelling with him. “I am an expert swordsman.”
“So am I.”
Lucian admired
Angel’s pride and determination and courage, but the thought of a green girl thinking herself in his league with a sword was so laughable he had to rub his hand over his mouth to hide his smile.
He teased, “Are you not afraid that I will run you through.”
Angel held her head proudly. “It is you who should be afraid!”
The more Lucian tried to talk Angel out of duelling him, the more stubbornly insistent she became. It soon became clear to him that she would not be dissuaded from defending her honour.
Then he saw a way to use her challenge to get what he wanted from her with no further argument.
“Very well, Angel, I will accept your challenge on one condition. You must promise me that when I—er, if I win,” he corrected himself hastily, “you will marry me immediately without further protest. Do you swear to me that you will do that.”
“I swear,” she said gravely, “but you must promise that if I win, you will marry Kitty.”
If she won! Lucian had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing aloud. It was a moment before he could manage to say with a straight face, “I promise. Now I will find you a sword. Meet me in the long gallery in ten minutes.”
Chapter 9
“David, I require your sword,” Lucian told Inge when he answered the knock on his door.
“Why?” David gestured toward the weapon at Lucian’s side. “You have one of your own.”
“But my opponent does not.”
“Odd’s fish, have you gotten yourself involved in a duel? That will only make the scandal that much worse.”
“I do not intend anyone but you, me, and my opponent to ever know of it.”
“I see. Does that mean I am charged with secretly disposing of your opponent’s body afterward?”
“It will not come to that.”
“You should not have challenged—”
“I did not. I tried very hard to avoid this meeting, but my opponent was adamant.”
“I own I am amazed,” David said as crossed over to the chest of drawers where he had laid his sword. “I did not think that either of the Crowes would have the courage to challenge you.”
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