by Unknown
Quite suddenly, however, she was fiercely glad it had happened. It was a relief to have it over with. She knew she'd never really had a prayer of impressing Adrian, no hope of convincing him of her usefulness so that he wouldn't sell her papers. It was actually rather comforting to know she'd now be relegated to her proper place in the lower regions of the ship where she wouldn't feel so wretchedly out of place. There wasn't much use in becoming accustomed to something better when he only meant to abandon her in a matter of weeks, was there?
The silence lengthened, and, although Danielle was loath to speak for fear she'd draw even more anger upon herself, as he moved across the room to stand before her, she steeled herself to accept his wrath with a show of indifference and lifted her eyes to his. If he was going to beat her anyway, she'd just as soon have it over with. And it wasn't as if she'd never been beat before.
His expression was inscrutable, but she wasn't deceived. She lifted her chin and faced him unflinchingly, fighting the fear that twisted inside her, her heart beating suffocatingly in her throat. But her chin quivered despite her best efforts to control it as he continued his silent scrutiny, and quite suddenly she wanted to cry out for him to get it over with. She would have too, would've baited him into it if necessary, if only fear hadn't frozen the words in her throat.
As if reading her thoughts, he lifted his hand, and, despite her resolve to endure in stoical silence, she flinched away from him, squeezing her eyes shut so that the tears that had gathered there and turned her eyes to liquid amber, slid from beneath her lashes and cascaded down her cheeks. Do it! she thought suddenly, wanting him to. For then she could hate him. Then she would be glad when he dumped her. Because she realized quite suddenly that she wasn't nearly as afraid of the beating as she was of being abandoned.
The touch, when it came, was so gentle that she opened her eyes to stare up at him in surprise. He cupped her face then in his large hand, using his thumb to nudge her chin up so that he could gaze down into her startled eyes, his own eyes filled with such understanding and compassion that her resolve fled. "Poor cheek," he said gently.
"I . . . I didn't do it on purpose," Danielle stammered miserably, clamping her jaw shut as her lips trembled pitifully, torn between the painful hope of forgiveness and the equally painful fear that it would be snatched away once she let down her defenses.
Adrian studied her quivering lips and swallowed hard, forcing a slight smile. "But you wanted to?" he suggested with a questioning lift of one dark brow.
She bit her lip, nodding almost imperceptibly, and he felt the wildest urge to bite the tremulous fullness of that lip himself. He gazed down at her a long moment and finally yielded to temptation, intending to do no more than touch the soft, tempting curves with his own lips, to soothe her hurt and ease her anxiety that somehow she would be blamed and punished. He bent his head and gently brushed her lips with his own. A stunning bolt of pleasure shot through him, making his loins tighten painfully, and he raised his head a fraction in surprise, staring into fathomless brown eyes, drowning in their liquid depths.
Without conscious thought, he lowered his lips to hers once more, brushing his firm mouth across the soft, yielding surfaces of her lips, tasting and touching them with his tongue, nipping gently at the soft fullness of her lower lip as he'd wanted to before, dizzy with the sensations that rushed through him to engorge his manhood, despite her lack of response, despite the fact that she'd done no more than acquiesce to his tentative caress. He was drowning, caught up in the feel and taste of her, and rational thought fled. A groan rose in his throat as a tremor of desire rippled through him, and he pulled her forcefully into his arms, wanting to feel her against his length, plunging his tongue between her parted lips to taste the incredible sweetness of her mouth, to feel her moist warmth close about that plunging part of him even as his body yearned for a far different penetration, feeling a near feverish need to possess her completely as his mouth moved hungrily over hers. His hands slid along her back in exploration, one moving along her side to cup the tempting fullness of a breast as the other slid lower to press her hips closer to his hardness, to ease the ache there by her nearness.
It was then that sanity returned, awareness jolting through him as shockingly as an avalanche of snow as he felt her fragility, as he tasted the salt of tears on her shaking lips. He put her from him almost roughly, trying to control his harsh breathing, fighting to cool the desire thundering in his veins, his face hardening with cold fury as he saw her huge, terrified eyes. And it was terror. He could see that. She expected him to force her.
He was furious with himself, but she couldn't know that, or understand, and as she retreated another step from him, he felt a choking sickness well up inside him. What insanity had possessed him to do such a thing? he wondered. He'd come to know her well enough to realize that her plucky exterior, her bravado, was just that, a facade to hide her vulnerability. The rape, or attempted rape, by 'old Thornsby' before she'd even reached puberty had left her scarred and afraid. And God alone knew how many other times she'd been subjected to such treatment, living alone on the streets as she had. And she was little more than a child now, for all her assertions to the contrary, which made his actions doubly damning.
And yet, for all that he'd so callously discounted her as being beneath his interest, insulting both her charms and virtue in one stroke, he now realized that neither of those assertions was true. She might not be innocent of a man's touch, and probably wasn't, but she wouldn't have sold herself to it. He was just as certain of that as he was that he'd lied to both of them when he'd disclaimed any interest in her. And he now wondered if it was that that had prompted him to rescue her, rather than the compassion he'd believed it to be, and lauded himself over.
"I'm sorry, Danny," he said finally, his voice still harsh with desire. She said nothing, but he could see that she still shook and her eyes had become remote, guarded, as she watched him warily, as if she expected him to pounce on her the moment she dropped her guard and rape her with the savagery she apparently thought intrinsic in men due to her previous experiences. His lips tightened into a thin, hard line of self-loathing. He turned abruptly and strode to the door, jerking it open before he paused on the threshold and spoke again without turning. "It won't happen again," he said quietly, wondering even as he made the vow if he could keep it, if the feel and taste and scent of her that yet clung to him tantalizingly would haunt him until he was driven to possess her as she possessed his thoughts.
He cursed softly under his breath and slammed out of the cabin, paused, and favored Yvette, who was just leaving her mistress's cabin with a laden tray, with so piercing a stare that she very nearly dropped it, then strode purposefully towards Lavinia's cabin and entered without knocking.
Danielle stared blankly at the door when he'd gone, shaken to the core, her thoughts so chaotic she could make no sense of any of them. Fear was uppermost, of course, but it had begun to subside even before Adrian had left. And although at first she'd been incredulous when she'd realized that he didn't mean to rape her, she now began to wonder why he hadn't. She hadn't wanted him to. But he couldn't have failed to know that she was completely at his mercy. So why had he released her so abruptly without taking what he wanted? Why had he kissed her in the first place if that wasn't what he'd intended all along? And why had he looked at her as if he despised her when he'd let her go?
Try though she might, she simply couldn't understand his motives, either for kissing her or for releasing her without having punished her in the most debasing way a man could devise.
Had he not meant it as punishment any of the time? Had he thought he'd wanted her, then realized when he'd pulled her against him how very unattractive she was and changed his mind? She began to think that that was very likely the case, or that somehow she'd given him the impression that she wanted to have him touch her like that. And perhaps he'd remembered only after he'd kissed her that he suspected her of carrying the pox so t
hat that was the reason he'd looked at her with such loathing? And yet, instead of the relief she should have felt, she discovered that she was curiously close to tears.
She yielded to that forbidden luxury. It was a relief to let the tears that had been choking her flow unhindered down her cheeks as she flung herself to the floor and buried her face against the soft cushion of the overstuffed chair. She didn't understand any of it and no longer wished to understand the strange sensations of fear and longing he'd evoked inside her with his touch and his kiss. She simply wanted to forget it and could only hope that he would remain true to his word, since she wasn't at all certain she would want him to stop if he ever kissed her like that again.
She jumped at a touch, whirling to face the intruder in wild eyed panic.
"Pauvre petite," Yvette said gently. "Did he beat you?"
Danielle scowled at her. "If you mean to slobber over me, you can just go away!" she snapped. "In fact, you can go away anyway," she added with a singular lack of cordiality.
Yvette laughed. "Non, ange! I shall not allow you to indulge your tears any longer. To weep a little is good, but not too much, petite. See," she added, gesturing towards the table, "I've brought us something to eat. We shall enjoy le grand repas tonight," she added with another trill of laughter.
Danielle stared in fascination at the assortment and quantity of food, the sheer abundance of it causing her stomach to tighten painfully in anticipation. For several moments, she was torn between the desperate need to gorge herself and the purely feminine inclination to shun it in a grand gesture that would more surely emphasize her abject misery than mere words could express. She glanced rather resentfully at the young woman who, she felt certain, had somehow denigrated the magnitude of her distress with her misplaced efforts to befriend her.
Yvette's dark eyes twinkled with sympathetic amusement. "It is difficult, oui? But there is no reason why petite can not indulge her d`esolation with the full stomach as well as the empty one, no? And it is much more comfortable when the stomach does not grumble," she said with typical gallic logic.
Danielle chuckled ruefully. "I expect I wouldn't be so miserable if I wasn't so hungry. It's amazing how quickly one can get used to having a full stomach."
Yvette nodded smilingly in agreement and rose to fetch the tray, placing it between them on the floor and settling herself across from Danielle. "That's true, of course," she said seriously, "But then one can always pretend misery afterwards, for the sake of le aspect, the appearance, even so."
Danielle tore off a piece of chicken with even white teeth, rolling her eyes with pleasure at the flavor and swallowed it down with a gulp of wine before answering with a slight shrug. "Actually, there ain't much point to it anyway. I mean, if nobody cares, why do it for effect? I suppose it's only self-indulgence."
Yvette sighed. "True. And yet there is relief in indulging oneself from time to time."
Danielle considered it, shrugged an agreement, and they finished their meal in silence. When they'd heaped their scraps on the tray and set it aside, Yvette, who'd been frowning thoughtfully for some time, finally spoke again. "Does Lord Beaumont know you're not a boy?" she asked innocently.
Chapter Ten
Danielle, who'd just taken a sip of wine, choked on it, spewing wine down the front of her jacket. She swiped at it irritably, glaring at the woman, but she didn't see much point in denying it. One learned when to try another tact and when to give up on a lost cause. "How did you guess?" she asked finally.
Yvette shrugged. "Is hard to say. I've been watching you."
Danielle frowned at that, determinedly quelling a shudder of apprehension at the thought that came to mind. "Do you think any of the others have figured it out?"
Yvette considered it carefully. "I think not. People most often see what they expect to see, n'est-ce pas?"
Danielle studied her a long moment and finally relaxed fractionally, shaking her head in disgust. "I must have done somethin' really stupid to give myself away. Jiminey! I've been doin' this for years, and nobody's figured it out before. And here you've guessed it, and Lord Beaumont knew almost right off."
"Ah!" Yvette said with a wise nod. "Then Monsieur does know! Perhaps you're getting too old for the charade, petite? But I must tell you, Lord Beaumont, from all I have heard, is not the sort of man who can be easily fooled. Most especially where women are concerned. And I would not have guessed it except that I have watched you very closely."
"He could hardly have failed to notice," Danielle said dryly. "I'd no sooner got here than the bleedin' sod stripped me and dumped me in a tub of water. I might not look much like a girl, but I've got the right equipment!"
Yvette's eyes danced with merriment, though she carefully refrained from laughing outright. "Once one knows you are a girl, one wonders how one could ever have been fooled, I assure you, for you make a very pretty girl. And I doubt it was an accident that Lord Beaumont happened upon his discovery."
Danielle dismissed the prompted compliment with the contempt it deserved, pursing her lips in disgust. "I expect your right there. I never figured it was no accident. He just decided to let me know he knew, that's all."
Yvette nodded but then frowned thoughtfully. "If it were not Lord Beaumont we speak of, I would almost think it must be a kindness that he let you continue." She shook her head. "I expect he did not want the headache. And there is the little matter of his fiancee'. She would be bound to think you his cherie amie, if the rumors got to her, which might cause him some unpleasantness."
Danielle glared at her indignantly, unable for several moments to decide which irritant to address. Her sense of loyalty and honesty clamored for a defense of Lord Beaumont's many kindnesses to her and the annihilation of anyone unwise enough to suggest his wish to protect her by keeping her secret was due to ugly ulterior motives. And then there was the personal insult. She decided to address that issue first. "I am not his sherry. If you mean to imply that I . . . that he . . . . Well, he didn't!"
Yvette bit her lip to hide a smile. Danielle controlled her temper with admirable restraint. "Non! Please don't take insult! I meant none. For, of course, you are far too young for him for one thing!"
"I am not!" Danielle snapped indignantly, conversely insulted by the nasty insinuation that he could have no interest in making her his mistress. "I'm a woman full growed!"
Yvette looked distressed. "Oui! Yes. I know. But Monsieur prefers a more mature lady. At any rate, he means to make a match now . . . ," she trailed off in consternation at the expression on Danielle's face.
Danielle was too concerned with other matters at the moment to worry overmuch about emotions she might have given away. "But what about the Widow?"
"Petite," Yvette murmured in distress, reaching to take her hand, "you know the difference. She is of his class and widowed. There is a certain discretion in their affair. There would be none at all if he were to begin to live with his mistress. You see?"
Danielle snatched her hand back and glared at the older woman. "You needn't explain it! I've no interest in his problems one way or the other."
"No. Of course not," Yvette said quickly. "Well." She got to her feet and dusted her skirts, then reached to lift the tray. "I suppose I must be going."
Danielle didn't respond. She didn't really notice when Yvette slipped out the door and closed it softly behind her. She was mentally reviewing some of the more unpleasant rumors she'd heard about Lord Beaumont, most particularly the ones about his impending nuptials. She left the cabin shortly afterwards and sought a secluded nook above decks, where she spent an entirely restless and unpleasant night.
She enjoyed her misery so much, in fact, that she was in a fair way of making a habit of it when, three evenings later, Lord Beaumont roused her from her uneasy slumber and ordered her back to the cabin. She went without argument, realizing belatedly that her erratic behavior might have given rise to false conclusions. She had no desire, after all, to gi
ve Lord Beaumont the idea that she was avoiding him for any reason.
His kiss, she'd finally concluded, had had no real significance for him and therefore had none for her. It had merely been an attempt to soothe her, and she was determined to ignore the fact that it had had entirely the opposite effect on her.
Had she but known it, Lord Beaumont had been just as studious in avoiding her, until he'd made the discovery that they'd both abandoned the cabin in favor of restless nights above decks. That discovery had so incensed him (for he'd never pursued an unwilling female in his life and interpreted her behavior as distrust of the most insulting kind) that he'd ordered her below without even taking the time to consider possible consequences. (For how could he prove he could avoid temptation if temptation removed herself from harm's way?)
The consequences soon loomed large upon his mind, however. For he very quickly came to the conclusion that he had no desire to avoid temptation and shortly afterwards decided that there was no sane reason why he should.
True, Danielle was far younger than any female he'd ever found himself interested in. And her age had been the main factor in his decision to consider her off-limits. But there was no tabu against a relationship between them, after all. Merely personal prejudices that he found did not apply at all where it concerned Danielle. After all, any female old enough to be considered a woman was fair game as far as society, and men in general, were concerned. He'd previously eschewed a relationship with recent escapees from the schoolroom for the simple reason that they bored him to tears, and also the fact that they were bent on matrimony and he was bent on avoiding it for as long as possible.
But then that was not an issue in this particular case since matrimony was clearly out of the question. One did not wed young women of Danielle's class, no matter how appealing. One simply asked the going rate or suggested a liaison both parties could find mutually satisfying.
