Dangerous Lord, Seductive Mistress

by Mary Brendan

  His eyes narrowed, grew dark with desire as he sensed her meaning.

  ‘I want you to take me to the Lodge,’ Deborah whispered.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Bunched muscle was visible beneath the gauzy lawn of his shirt as Randolph attended to the fire. Deborah watched him patiently coddling small sparks into flames, then, once the glow was strong enough to stamp his shadow on the wall, he stood in a fluid movement and came to sit opposite her at the kitchen table.

  She sensed the strength of his stare on her profile, but felt suddenly too shy to meet his eyes. As her pulse accelerated, making more acute the painful thump beneath her ribs, she tried to subdue her apprehensiveness. She had suggested they come here. She’d understood what he would read into her offer to go to the woods with him. She’d understood, too, that her reputation would be irrevocably damaged if ever it leaked out what she’d done.

  On the journey from Hastings, seated in front of him on his horse, she’d felt relaxed and cosy. Randolph had told her about his youth as they’d travelled at a slow trot towards Hartsmere Lodge. She hadn’t turned once to look at him, nor had she interrupted; but an inner tranquillity had settled on her as she had quietly listened, resting against his chest with his words resonating against her cheek.

  ‘I wasn’t a smuggler for very long,’ he’d begun his story. ‘As a boy of fifteen, I wanted to experience the excitement of going on night runs with my older brother. My parents discovered I’d become involved, but didn’t stop me. In an odd way I think they hoped my presence might moderate Sebastian’s craving for danger. In fact, I was another pair of hands and so he took more risks. It wasn’t the jeopardy that brought me to my senses. By the time I was nineteen, and despite the cash to be had, I’d been sickened by the evil in the adventure.’ He’d paused at that point as though the memory of that evil still had the power to disturb him. ‘But I’d made Ross’s acquaintance.’ An unseen smile had lightened his tone. ‘We became colleagues and firm friends and for that alone I don’t rue all my misspent youth.’ A stream had been splashed through and dry land again encountered before he’d carried on. ‘Sebastian didn’t enjoy the camaraderie as did I. He could be violent and greedy, so had few friends. The turning point for me came one night on a French beach when Sebastian ejected émigrés from our craft so he might load on more kegs of brandy. A count had begged passage for himself and his wife and young son. They had no money and Sebastian would only take those who could pay. Ross and I brought many French refugees to England on night runs for no more than a merci beaucoup. Sebastian was contemptuous of the fact we refused to make a profit out of those poor souls.’ His voice had faded away and he’d tilted up her chin so their eyes had merged. ‘Am I a vile criminal?’ He’d sounded defensive, uncaring of her answer, yet his feral eyes had demanded her acquittal. She’d simply touched her warm lips to the stubble on his cheek, making him groan and kick the stallion in to a gallop.

  * * *

  ‘Do you want to go?’

  His toneless enquiry made her start from her reverie. Her wide eyes quit the fiery dance in the grate to clash on his knowing gaze. He understood her fears and because of it she felt obliged to deny them. There had been no coercion on his part. It had been her idea to come here, she again reminded herself. Still she felt nervous, overpowered by the force of his virility. She pressed together her lips to still their quiver and shook her head. ‘No,’ she murmured gruffly. ‘I…like this little house. I…I’m glad we came.’ She smiled slightly and again avoided the eyes that seemed to gleam in the firelight. She was very susceptible to his masculine appeal, she realised with a pang. His white shirt, gaping at the top, exposed a strong, brown column of throat. On the table a dark hand lay idle, fingers lightly curled, their length and strength partially hidden. ‘But I…I can’t stay long. My mother will be terribly worried if I am again very late home,’ she stammered.

  ‘Where does she think you are?’

  ‘I left her a note that I was visiting a friend. She will think I’m at the vicarage.’

  ‘Did you use similar excuses when you were with Edmund?’

  ‘Oh, if we were not socialising in company, Edmund always courted me at home.’ Her answer was artless, ejected on a single breath.

  ‘Always? A woman surely wants some private time with her fiancé?’

  The hard irony in his voice thrust to her attention something that had been niggling at the back of her mind. On the day they’d met in Hastings she’d deliberately hinted she was no longer chaste. She felt foolish and regretful at having done so; she’d no experience of carnal pleasure other than what Randolph had taught her. She was ashamed, too, to have made it seem Edmund had taken advantage of her. Edmund had always treated her with the utmost affection and respect. He would have dissuaded her, for her own good, from a discreet tryst with him. Wistfully she realised she’d never wanted one, and had been satisfied with his brief goodnight kisses.

  When Randolph had kissed and intimately caressed her on the night of the Davenports’ soirée she had wished the bliss never to end. Obliquely she’d been conscious her mother’s presence in the house would protect her from a full seduction if her self-control were defeated. But she was on her own now.

  Soon she might be exposed as a fraud. But there was more bothering her than that he’d discover her lack of experience and sophistication.

  Within hours of their reunion Randolph had told her it was his intention to remain a bachelor. But he’d wanted her again that first day, and he still did. The strength of his need seemed to suffocate the space between them.

  She’d guessed Randolph had warned off Seth Luck-hurst by saying they were lovers and Ned Swinton had come to hear of it. The beast had called her Chadwicke’s doxy. Randolph had hinted at propositioning her when he’d called her a seductive lady and remarked they liked one another enough to want to stay in touch. Deborah knew if she asked Randolph to take her home now he would do so; but she couldn’t make him say he loved her. The reason for her bittersweet heartache was clear: she didn’t want to be Randolph Chadwicke’s mistress. She wanted to be his wife.

  ‘Being a smuggler must have been very dangerous. Have you killed a man?’ she burst out to break her plaintive mood and the pulsating silence.

  ‘I killed Ned Swinton.’

  Deborah blinked at that news, her eyes darting to his shadowed face. Despite knowing against what sort of villain Randolph had been pitted, still she found his admission rather shocking.

  ‘If I hadn’t shot him he would have stabbed me to death, Deborah,’ Randolph said quietly. ‘He had a good try at it—I’ve got the proof.’

  ‘Are you in pain?’ she asked in concern as his hand quit the table to probe his ribs.

  ‘Not from that,’ he muttered drily. He cast a glance on her from beneath his brows, as though considering before speaking. ‘Before Swinton died,’ he began slowly, ‘he boasted how he’d long outwitted the authorities. He claimed to have killed a dragoon a few years ago and pinned the blame on a man called Snowy.’ Randolph paused, frowning his regret as lines of strain crinkled Deborah’s pale brow. He’d wanted to put to rest for her a ghost, not upset her. It was a moment before he resumed. ‘Swinton said he’d clubbed another dragoon more recently. He believed Lieutenant Barrow had perished. He showed no remorse for either crime.’

  ‘He admitted he’d killed Edmund?’ Deborah whispered.

  ‘He used Snowy as a scapegoat. No doubt he then murdered him to keep him quiet.’

  Deborah nodded slowly; she had long been sceptical of Snowy’s guilt. ‘I’m glad you avenged my fiancé’s death,’ she said simply and gave him a small smile.

  ‘Did Edmund bring you somewhere like this?’ Randolph asked softly, insistently.

  ‘Did you tell Seth Luckhurst that I was your mistress?’ Deborah countered his question with one of hers.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I think that’s a lie,’ Deborah said hoarsely. ‘Swinton called me Chadwicke’s doxy.’ />
  ‘I don’t lie to you, Deborah, I’ve told you that before.’

  ‘You lied about being in the area to buy sheep.’

  A hand plunged into a pocket in his breeches and drew forth a paper. ‘A bill of sale for the purchase of three rams and a dozen ewes to be delivered to Buckland Hall in Suffolk.’ He skimmed it towards her and it drifted to rest between them on the table. ‘I told Seth Luckhurst that you were mine,’ he said abruptly. ‘Are you?’

  ‘I…it depends what you mean by that,’ Deborah returned in a barely audible voice.

  ‘What do you want it to mean?’

  ‘I want it to mean that you have lied to me…just the once…when you said you were happy to remain a bachelor.’ The silence seemed interminable and she was unwilling to raise her eyes from the table to try, pointlessly, to study his concealed expression. Deborah struggled to her feet so abruptly the stick-back chair clattered on to its back. She put a hand to her flaming cheek. She’d virtually proposed to him and he’d said nothing. At least he hadn’t laughed. She couldn’t have endured his scorn.

  ‘I should go,’ she blurted with constrained cheerfulness. ‘My mama will be sending out a search party if I don’t soon appear…’ She headed to the dresser in the corner where her discarded cloak lay.

  Before she could don it the garment was taken from her quivering hands and dropped back on to the pine wood. A moment later a tanned sinewy arm had banded her waist, hauling her against his hot hard body. She felt cool lips brush an ear making her shiver. ‘Please don’t, Randolph,’ she gasped. ‘I know I’ve made you think I’m a shameless hussy by letting you kiss me and touch me the way you do. I know I’ve hinted that Edmund also had…But he was too gentlemanly to ever compromise me in such a way, and.’

  ‘And I’m not?’ The complaint was tinged with humour and affection.

  She twisted about in his arms and tilted up her face, then regretted having done so. Her earnest eyes merged with a blazing black gaze; their mouths were merely inches apart. Her eyelids drooped, shielding her from the power of his subtle silent seduction. ‘I know you’ve considered asking me to be your mistress,’ she breathlessly said, ‘but…I won’t, so don’t say anything. I expect, now you’re rich and influential, it was your intention to bribe me with an offer to live in town if, in return, I agree to sleep with you.’ The wistfulness in her voice was betraying and she frowned in confusion. She’d never before considered he’d use coercion of that sort, or that she’d be susceptible to such a lure. ‘I know I’ll be twenty-five soon and that’s an age to be a woman, but in truth—’ She broke off, unable to conclude the confession.

  ‘But in truth you’re still a girl,’ he finished huskily. ‘And a beautifully gallant one, too.’

  She shook her head, but whether to deny her courage or her innocence she was unsure.

  ‘I’m glad Edmund wasn’t lucky enough to have possessed you, but I envy him none the less,’ Randolph said softly. ‘He had your affection and respect. Why did you want me to believe you were lovers?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she muttered raggedly. ‘I suppose so you would think me worldly,’ she carried on with a hint of defiance. ‘I didn’t want you to see the same naïve little girl you left behind, pining for you to return.’

  ‘I loved that naive little girl. For a whole year, she kept me sane, gave me hope that she’d wait for me to return and become my wife.’

  ‘You loved me?’ An incipient glow was in her eyes as she raised her lids to look at him.

  ‘Of course I loved you.’

  ‘You never said so!’ she stormed, tears springing to her eyes.

  ‘I couldn’t, Debbie,’ he groaned. A hand cupped her face, caught tears on a thumb. ‘A marriage proposal should follow such a declaration, or at the very least an explanation for its delay.’ His arms tightened about her, his chin rested on the crown of her silky golden head. ‘Tell me honestly, Deborah, what you would have thought had you known then what you know now about my family and my past.’

  ‘I would have waited for you to sort it all out,’ Deborah insisted, thumping a small fist, twice, on his shoulder in despairing emphasis. ‘I waited years to hear from you,’ she keened. ‘I accepted Edmund’s proposal despite knowing I would never love him as a wife should love her husband.’ She read the demand for an explanation in his hungry eyes. ‘He was kind and he loved me and I would have liked a family before I got too old. I would have waited for you,’ she raged. ‘You should have told me why you had to go away.’

  ‘I believe you would have waited, sweetheart.’ His lips brushed her brow, soothing her. ‘But your parents—quite rightly—would have been horrified at the thought of it. You were a beautiful débutante with dozens of suitors to choose from and a huge dowry to bestow on the fortunate fellow.’ He bowed his head and soft strands of fawn hair tickled her cheek before he turned to sweep a kiss on her briny cheek. ‘I was scared if you learned too much about me…before I had a chance to put right the worst of it…you would not only reject me, but despise me, too. I couldn’t stand that, Deborah.’ He paused to reflect. ‘Marcus offered me a loan so I might immediately propose to you. I wouldn’t take it. I wanted your affection and respect, I told him. I went away determined to do everything in my power to be worthy of you.’

  Abruptly he let her go and took a pace away, his head thrown back as he gritted at the ceiling, ‘I damned my pride to perdition so many times. I’d rant at myself for not taking the loan Marcus had generously offered.’ His head was snapped down and he looked bleakly at her. ‘By the time I was ready to admit defeat and take Marcus’s money, it was too late. I’d heard by then of the changes in your circumstances. I knew your father had died, and your mother had remarried. Then I heard you’d got engaged to a dragoon and I knew I’d lost you.’

  ‘Did you lie to me on the day we were reunited?’ Her words were little more than a sigh. In the fire-daubed room she waited with bated breath for his answer.

  ‘Yes.’ His mouth moved and when he raised his long lashes she saw the smile was in his eyes too.

  ‘Say you love me…’ she threatened, but her lips were curving too.

  He was back at her side, hauling her into his arms, his amusement gone. With fierce passion his mouth swooped on to hers. Immediately she clung to him, coiling her slender arms about his neck, her lips parting sweetly beneath his insistent pressure.

  ‘I love you,’ he murmured against her pulsing mouth. ‘God knows I love you, Deborah. I’ve loved you in my mind night and day for longer than I care to remember.’

  ‘I love you, too,’ Debbie sobbed against his cheek. ‘And I’ve lost my dowry,’ she said sorrowfully. ‘I’ve nothing much now to bring to my husband. You should have married me and taken my money to help you when you most needed it seven years ago. I swear I would not have minded.’

  ‘But I would,’ he said vehemently. ‘I’m sorry you lost what your father wanted you to have. But I never wanted it. It was a barrier between us. I hated that you had so much when I had so little. I knew I would be thought a fortune hunter if I married you with nothing but debts and disgrace to my name. Now I can give you anything you want and I’m glad.’

  ‘But I’ve nothing to give in return…’

  ‘I’ll think of something,’ Randolph told her mock-solemnly, his eyes dangerously wolfish.

  Deborah blushed beneath his sultry amusement. ‘I wish you’d told Luckhurst I was your unofficial fiancée.’

  A choke of laughter met that demand for decency. ‘I think we’ve been unofficially betrothed for a long, long while. And soon everybody will know it.’

  Her heartfelt thanks were immediately bestowed. She went up on tiptoe and touched her mouth to his, sliding her soft lips back and forth. She slipped her tongue tip to his lower lip, mimicking the loving he’d just showed her, revelling in the growl of pleasure she drew from him.

  A furnace ignited in Randolph’s loins; he returned her passion with a force that bowed her back and sent her, he
ld in his arms, retreating a few steps. He continued the erotic onslaught until her thighs were against the table edge and he was supporting her spine close to its top. Gently, urgently, he hoisted her upon it, following her down so his torso hung above her and his weight was on an elbow. A hand rushed over her silhouette, caressing her soft curves. When it reached her thigh a fist spontaneously pulled up her skirts so his hands could luxuriate in the sensation of silky skin slipping beneath his palms. When he turned the backs of his fingers to skim the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, a trembling sigh broke in Deborah’s throat.

  Randolph looked down in to her beautiful features, taut with desire. He tilted his face to her throat and his tongue flicked moist heat against the crazily bobbing pulse before his mouth moved lower to nuzzle against the little nubs hardening beneath her blouse.

  A ragged pant broke in Deborah’s throat and she sank her small fingers into his soft fawn hair and dragged his face up to hers. Randolph kissed her gently, gripping the edge of the table to keep his hands from her beautiful body until he’d said what he must.

  ‘Do you know what I thought about a lot, Debbie, when I was in that godforsaken hellhole with Sebastian?’ he murmured against her soft, slick lips.

  ‘Me.’ she sighed beatifically.

  ‘Apart from you,’ he growled.

  She swayed her head and her arms coiled about his neck to make him again kiss her.

  ‘I thought about our wedding night,’ he told her hoarsely. ‘It was going to be perfect…a feather bed, silk sheets, champagne, beautiful night finery for you…I wanted to give you everything your heart desired. I still do.’ He put a shaking finger against her bruised lips, then drew her up so she was held hard against his shoulder. ‘I wanted your first time to be magical.’ He smiled wickedly. ‘If I’m truthful, I wanted to savour it too. I’d waited so long for you I dreamt of feasting on you for hours and hours.’ He held her against him, feeling the thunder of her heart shaking his painful ribs. ‘So…shall we stay or go, sweetheart?’