Suzi Love

by Embracing Scandal

  “Looking for — ”

  “Looking for what?”

  She hesitated a moment before giving a shrug. “Money. Thieves. Looking for coins.” She cleared her scratchy throat. “I carry few.”

  She studied her wrists and wouldn’t meet his eyes, making him even more suspicious. With a finger under her chin, he raised her expressive green eyes to his. “Rebecca Jamison, do you remember when we were children and you used to try to deceive me into doing your bidding by telling me an exaggerated tale of woe, or a half truth?” The emerald circles widened and she gave a reluctant nod. “And do you remember that I never believed your larger-than-life stories, yet I helped you anyway?”

  With her usual shrewdness, she sidestepped his questions and adopted a defensive position. “Are you saying … you don’t … believe me?” Shamelessly, she used a haughty look and an affronted attitude in a vain attempt to make him feel guilt. Despite the grim situation, it amused him. He may admire her audacity but he wouldn’t fall for her tricks.

  “Oh no, my sweet, you may save your manipulation for someone more gullible. I always know when you’re lying to me.”

  She remained silent and went back to staring at her clasped hands. “Which begs the question of why you’re telling me a fib now. There is something you’re not telling me about these men. And what happened.”

  Aunt Agatha interrupted by rushing into the room, red and flustered. He heard Becca’s sigh of relief at her aunt’s fussing. Normally, Becca hated anyone making a fuss over her so something was seriously amiss. “Oh, my goodness, my darling. How are you? I was so worried. We must get you home. You need to go to bed. Thompson must summon Doctor Simmons.”

  “No. No doctor.” Becca cleared her throat and waited until she was able to speak in a stronger voice. “Fine. Just bed.” Her anxious aunt and sister helped her to her feet and she shuffled towards the door.

  Leaning close to her ear, Cayle whispered,

  “Saved by your family’s intervention. However, our conversation is merely postponed. Not forgotten.” Her eyes widened again and he heard her breath catch.

  • • •

  Brian called for the carriage to be brought to a side door of the theatre, and with a minimum of fuss Cayle manoeuvred the family out of the theatre. He asked Brian and Tony to remain at the theatre to question the footman as to how Becca’s attackers had gained entrance to the theatre and if anyone had seen them leaving.

  Once back at Grosvenor Square, Cayle followed the women inside and addressed Aunt Agatha with exaggerated politeness. “Lady Jamison, I request a private word with Lady Rebecca before she retires. I will only keep her a moment.”

  Becca shuddered slightly at Cayle’s request. She’d known Cayle would demand a reckoning as soon as he could arrange to be alone with her and she needed to have a feasible story prepared. His tone of voice brooked no argument and his temper held in check only by the sheer force of his strong will.

  Her aunt dispatched her sisters up the stairs and to their beds chambers. But before departing herself, her aunt’s perceptive gaze flicked from Cayle to Becca and back again. “You seem to be making a habit of requesting privacy with my niece. Is there any reason I should be worrying, or informing Michael?”

  “No,” Cayle and Becca snapped in unison, then turned to glare at each other with belligerence.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Aunt Aggie said, raising her brows. “You two sound like an old married couple.”

  She laughed with glee at her own joke but neither Becca nor Cayle were amused. They continued to watch each other in a hostile way until her aunt also departed. Cayle moved to the door, turned the key to lock it and then paced the room like an enraged lion. Becca was nervous at being left alone with him. Locked in with him. She sensed that he’d been barely holding his anger in check during the carriage ride home and he was now about to unleash his fury. In her direction.

  “Marry me!” He barked it out as an order as if she were a hound to be brought to heel. She jumped in fright.

  “I beg your pardon?” She was stunned. Annoyed and bewildered. She’d expected anger over her being at the centre of yet another dramatic incident but she hadn’t expected this. Never this. Several men had proposed to her with flourish in romantic settings, although all for selfish motives. Arthur Bennett had gone down on bended knee in this very drawing room to offer her marriage. It was the normal manner of requesting a woman’s hand in marriage.

  Gentlemen didn’t demand the charade of a temporary betrothal from a woman. And they most certainly didn’t issue a command that a woman marry them, no matter what the reasons.

  “I said,” he enunciated slowly, holding his jaw tight and his face contorted, “you need to marry me.”

  “You mean you ordered me to marry you,” she corrected. “Not the most romantic proposal I’ve ever had. What possible reason could you have for wanting to marry me?”

  “I don’t want to marry you.”

  Her shoulders slumped and her head bowed. Unwittingly, he’d wounded her. Again. He kept doing it. “It seems to be a pattern with me. Men ask me to marry them. However, they don’t actually want me. I’m merely a means to an end.”

  “No. No, I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “So why did you ask?”

  “I can see no other way to keep you safe. Under the protection of my name, no man would dare lay a hand on you, or your family.”

  “So you’d marry me simply to keep me safe?”

  “If that’s what it takes, yes.”

  “At least you’re more honest than the others.”

  “Then it’s settled, we’ll become officially betrothed to marry,” Cayle said, as if he had just arranged the purchase of a new mare.

  “Nothing is settled as far as I can see. I’m still in the dark as to your reasons. Are you saying you love me?”

  “No!”

  “Well, that’s making your feelings clear enough. At least you aren’t going to tell me lies.”

  “Love is not the key issue here. Your life is. You can’t leave here and go running around all of London unless you’re under my protection. So, from this moment on, we’re promised to each other. More or less.”

  “Promised?”

  “It’s just a figure of speech. Until we sort this out.”

  “And as my promised husband, will you be continuing my lessons on pleasure?”

  “No. I’m not a complete enough cad to pressure you into anything more. At least not physically. Consider it a … business association.”

  “So, I will still be free to ask other gentlemen to instruct me further on the rules of intimacy.”

  “No! You most certainly will not. I forbid it.”

  “I’m uncertain of the rules of being promised, in a business sense, to someone. But somehow, I don’t imagine such a vague agreement should give you the right to forbid me anything.”

  He sucked in a deep breath as if searching for patience. “You’re quite correct. I can, of course, forbid you nothing. You’re a grown woman with a mind of your own. Nevertheless, I beseech you to refrain from engaging in any flirtations — ”

  “Oh,” she said with a hoarse chuckle, a reminder of her sore throat. “What I have in mind is rather a lot more than flirtation.”

  “You’re deliberately trying my patience with this pretence of other flirtations. And of taking other lovers.”

  “And how do you know it’s a pretence?”

  “Because I know you. You’d do nothing to get yourself branded a trollop. You value your family too greatly to take that risk.”

  She studiously ignored his use of such a derogatory word as trollop. He was trying to rattle her defences. Get her to give in to his demands.

  “And has it not been a risk with you? What we’ve done?”

  “Despite what happened between us before, I’ll not take any further liberties with you.”

  Then he shook his head and moaned deep in his throat. “God! Not unless you ask me. Or perhaps b
eg me. Will you do that, Becca?”

  She wisely ignored his question. It was too close to the truth. If Cayle continued being her hero, her fantasy come true, and riding to her rescue, she could well be reduced to begging him for his favours. And soon. She’d tasted bliss and she craved more. Madame had assured her that one day she’d meet a man who was her match and she’d surrender her innocence to him with a willing heart. He’d be a man who understood her compulsion for knowledge and allow her to explore, to learn and grow, even in the bedroom.

  Unfortunately, Cayle was that man. The one who wanted to dominate and protect her, yet at the same time understood her enough to allow her freedom to fly. She knew his feelings on the subject of love and marriage. She understood them. Until recently, she’d thought the same way, had wanted the same things. She’d hide her feelings from him for both their sakes. He’d be embarrassed and she would be mortified if he rejected her.

  Changing the subject, she said, “You’re foolish if you believe a promise between us will be a deterrent to these men. I have no idea why men think they are the planners. Women have more intuition for the finer points of a problem.”

  “It was Tony’s idea.”

  “Your brother thinks we would suit?”

  “No!” At his vehement reply, she hunched like a wounded sparrow trying to avoid further attack from a larger bird of prey but if he noticed her pain, he gave no sign.

  “Tony thought that if we married you could live at our country house where you would be guarded more closely.”

  “I see. A wife in name only?”

  “Not necessarily. In time, I will require an heir. Children.”

  “Let me understand.” She studied him, searching for some hint of kinder, gentler feeling towards her after the closeness they had shared in this very room only days earlier. “I’d be your wife, hidden away in the country, waiting until you to decide which year you will join me in bed so I could become enceinte. Waiting until you decide I’d be useful to provide you with an heir. Followed I assume, by the requisite spare child.”

  Her calm exterior was a deception and one she knew Cayle would normally have been perceptive enough to recognise. It should have been enough warning for him to retreat while he still wore his skin. But tonight for some reason, he was being obtuse. He’d suffered a fright on her behalf at the theatre but that didn’t excuse his deliberate coldness in speaking to her of an arranged marriage. She deserved more from him.

  Once, a marriage to him would have been a dream come true. Now, she shuddered at the thought of tying herself to him without even a small concession to love. Some sign that his heart hadn’t hardened to an unbreakable stone block while he was abroad.

  “Precisely,” he answered, still oblivious to her dilemma. “And I assure you that when the time came, I’d make being in my bed enjoyable for you.”

  “Huh! Enormous conceit on your part, Cayle. But I don’t doubt your skills as a lover. After all, many women have spoken on that very subject.”

  He groaned.

  “And your honesty is a refreshing change from my other proposals.”

  “Exactly how many proposals have you received?”

  “I think the number is above twenty now. Lottie keeps count.”

  A small sound of pain escaped him.

  “And just why did they want to marry you?”

  She shook her head in disbelief at his continuing stupidity.

  “Not … not that your obvious beauty and charm is not enough.”

  “Naturally,” she replied with sarcasm. “Several of them, I won’t embarrass myself with a number, only wanted to marry me for my connection to Michael and his expertise. Some thought to also gain a willing bed partner from the bargain. They mistakenly imagined I’d be content at home like a typical downtrodden woman, preferably at a distant country estate, to produce an heir.” She scowled at him. “Exactly the same thing you wish for me.”

  “My proposal differs from theirs in that I only want to protect you.”

  “How noble of you. Cayle St. Martin, once again slaying my dragons.” She whirled from her pacing to confront him.

  “And what of your agreement with Julia?”

  “As Anthony pointed out, marrying me will not cause a scandal, it will prevent one for you.”

  “And I’m causing an outrageous scandal, one to be prevented at all costs. Even if the cost is your loss of freedom.”

  “If you carry on as you are, flaunting your knowledge of the consortium at every opportunity, thumbing your nose at dangerous men, there’ll be consequences. I care deeply for you, Becca. I don’t wish to see harm befall you.”

  “Does caring mean loving?”

  His expression instantly hardened. “I’ve learned from my father’s example that love is a term used by people who want something from you. It never lasts. But as my duchess, you’ll have everything you require.”

  “Except a man who loves me.” Even as she recognised how perilous it was to persist, she wanted to goad him into revealing something more. She needed something from him other than the announcement of a business attachment, or the grudging admission of a deep caring. What she wanted, all she needed in a marriage, was destined to be forever beyond her reach; however, she knew she’d never be content to settle for less.

  “Love is a foolish notion,” he announced with a small grimace of distaste. “With your penchant for scientifically proven facts, your research would have shown you it doesn’t exist.”

  A month ago, even a week ago, Becca would have agreed. All her life she’d studied information, analysed it and accepted the conclusions. With her sisters, she’d researched lovemaking, not love. Now, when love had hit her like a bolt of lightning, she felt disorientated, unable to reach a reliable conclusion. Unable to process the facts.

  She only knew that the man before her must never discover how she felt. His embarrassment would lead to even more humiliation for her. She needed to dismiss him without arousing his suspicions. Had to distance herself from him and she had to do it immediately. It would hurt, it would hurt a lot. As an awkward child, Cayle’s protection had been a blessing. As an adult, Cayle’s assistance, his involvement in her life had become something she counted on. But depending on someone else was a luxury she couldn’t afford and she was dimwitted to let herself think she could, even for a few weeks.

  Saying goodbye to him would be like cutting off an arm, but if the alternative was that he or his brothers risked their lives, she had to find a way to cut him loose. But, oh my goodness, the pain was going to be enormous. Much, much worse than when Cayle had left without explanation four years before. She did the only thing possible to save them both face. “While I appreciate the noble gesture, Cayle, it’s just that, a gesture. An empty one at best. And one which I have no hesitation in refusing.”

  The momentary look of relief on his face told her everything. It had been a spur of the moment proposal, one he instantly regretted.

  “I’ve vowed never to marry, never to become beholden to any man. I intend keeping that vow.” Leaving him slightly taken aback by her refusal, she turned and fled to the door. In two lengthy strides, he caught her by the arm and spun her to him.

  “Are you crying,” he demanded roughly, catching a tear on his finger.

  “Of course not. I’ve received many marriage proposals and I’ve never cried when I refuse them. Yours is no different. Simply another way of controlling a woman.” This time, she fled the room, bunching her already rumpled gown to run up the staircase as if escaping a demon. Him. He was the angel of love and the devil incarnate.

  She heard him snap at Thompson as he went out the door to his waiting carriage. Fine, let him be angry. She felt angry too. A momentary insanity had possessed him when he proposed marriage to her when he clearly didn’t want her as a wife.

  She’d read the panic on his face when he asked. And the relief when she’d refused him. Freeing him had been the right thing to do. But that didn’t stop the ache.


  In her body and in her heart.

  Chapter 13

  Cayle couldn’t do it. He couldn’t even contemplate climbing the steps of a brothel and bedding another girl after tasting even a small sample of the pleasure to be had with Becca. Despite her baffling rejection of his marriage earlier in the evening, he still wanted her. And her alone.

  His first reason for accompanying three acquaintances from his club to Mistress Duval’s was as a way of avoiding Becca and her family. If he kept busy elsewhere, he wouldn’t succumb to the temptation of scaling the wall to visit her bedroom. God knew he wanted to. With every fibre of his being he longed to see her, to touch her, and more importantly, to make love to her. He’d no one to blame for his unrelenting state of painful arousal but himself.

  The other men had all been well in their cups when they’d discussed a visit to the brothel to round off their night’s entertainment. Having spent a boring hour pretending an interest in gaming, Cayle had tried valiantly to escape to his home and his lonely thoughts, but the men had insisted. His second reason had been the more pressing because these men were associates of Baron Mitchell and Viscount Melrose. Once they’d mentioned a rendezvous with them, and Bennett, at their favourite brothel, Cayle had allowed himself to be coerced.

  But now he felt only regret. And self-loathing.

  • • •

  Neither the baron nor the viscount had appeared by the time the three Cayle arrived with deserted him for an adventure with three willing ladies in another room. He’d refused their invitation to join them. Even the watered down wine he consumed in the parlour didn’t help.

  A redhead with green eyes and enormous bosoms spilling over her décolletage seated herself on his lap, attempting to entice him upstairs with soft words and brazen caresses. Nothing helped. The woman he wanted wasn’t here. Most probably, she was tucked up warmly in her own bed, exactly where he wished her to be after returning from the dinner that had been on the Jamison’s program for the evening. But he also wanted to be in her bed. He refused to consider the idea that she would put her theory to the test and find a willing rake to experiment with. She wouldn’t dare, would she?