Whatever the truth, Walgrave seemed to be trying to fill his father’s shoes in all ways, including enmity to the Mallorens.
It was, as she had said to Amanda, quite lunatic to feel a physical response to the man. Yet even now, literally a prisoner in his unkind arms, she could feel that erotic energy, feel it along her nerve endings and deep inside, where a wanton part of her stirred hopefully.
Oh, foolish creature, she told herself. Stop it!
As Elf was pushed toward the Stairs, she glanced back, wondering if Amanda would be following. What she saw, however, was three ominous figures close behind. All wore dark cloaks, tricorns, and masks. Despite the masks, they looked not one bit like merrymakers.
They looked like assassins.
“Yes,” Walgrave said, still speaking French. “You really are safer with me. They will slit your pretty throat without a care.”
And these were his conspirators? How could he be so foolish?
“Don’t be afraid, though,” he added without warmth. “If you do as you’re told, no harm will come to you.”
Boats were still depositing merrymakers, but by now there were plenty waiting to take revelers home. Elf began to ponder ways to use the boatmen in order to escape. At Walgrave’s approach, however, a powdered footman separated from a group of waiting servants and blew on a silver whistle. Immediately, a personal barge glided toward them under the power of six sturdy oarsmen.
Elf watched with dismay. These were the earl’s own men in his livery. She should have expected it. Rothgar generally traveled the river in this style.
The center of the boat contained an enclosed area curtained in green velvet adorned with Walgrave’s crest and lit by hanging lamps. He pushed her into it, then took his place beside her, drawing the curtains as the boat shot off into the center of the wide river.
The area could seat about eight, so two didn’t crowd it, especially since Elf sat on one side while the earl lounged on the other. She still felt trapped now she was alone with him. She had no illusions about being able to fight him off. He was twice her size and she knew he enjoyed all the usual manly sports, including the new one of pugilism.
“What are you going to do with me, my lord?” she asked, easily able to sound nervous.
“An interesting question.” He took off his mask and dropped it on a cushion. It had been merely a strip of black silk, but without it he looked a little less menacing. That did not mean, however, that Elf underestimated her danger.
“Take off your mask,” he said, studying her in a most disconcerting manner. Could he recognize her?
Elf put her hand up as if to hold her mask on, but in reality to cover her mouth and chin. “Oh no, my lord!”
“Why not?”
“I’m embarrassed, my lord. Truly, I’m a good girl. It was just a silly adventure . . .”
“Do you think you can stay masked for a week?” A trace of amusement crinkled his eyes, making him look quite the stranger . . .
Then his words penetrated.
“A week!”
“I can’t allow you out of sight until certain matters are finished.”
Treason, she remembered. How could he be so deranged?
“And,” he added, “if you’re thinking of trying to escape, be aware that those other men will catch you and kill you. It may be a strange notion, but you are far safer with me.”
Elf looked away, worried now far more than afraid. Amanda might not raise the alarm tonight, but if Elf didn’t return home tomorrow, she’d call out the military!
Therefore, she had to escape Walgrave tonight.
She parted the curtains, peering out at the dark water, at the bobbing lanterns of other boats, and the distant lights of wharves and buildings on the riverbanks. No escape there, and the assassins could be following.
“I’m sure they’re there,” he said lazily. “So. The mask?”
Elf turned back. “Let me keep it a little longer, my lord. Please. I’m so scared.”
He shook his head. “You’re a foolish creature. How old are you?”
“Twenty,” she lied.
“Old enough to know better, then. Give me a name. I’m sure it will be false, but I need to call you something.”
“Lisette. And it is real.”
Unconvinced, he said, “It will, at least, suffice.” He held out a hand to her.
Elf instinctively responded as she would with any gentleman. She placed her hand in his. Instead of kissing it, however, he gripped it and jerked her over onto his lap.
With a cry of alarm, she braced her arms against his chest to keep her distance, but with a sharp blow, he knocked them up and trapped her against his body. “We have a journey ahead, Lisette, and I require entertainment.”
The wretch! As Lady Elfled Malloren she wanted to slap him, but she had to play her part as silly Lisette. What’s more, now they were so close, the danger of recognition was much greater.
She twisted her face away. “Where are you taking me, my lord?”
“To my house.”
Which lay close to the river and could well have private steps. Elf began to worry that it might, after all, be possible for him to keep her prisoner. She couldn’t escape from the boat without drowning in the Thames. At his private steps, with his servants waiting and six sturdy boatmen nearby, she couldn’t imagine breaking free. Once in his house, she might be caged.
She thought of one way to improve the odds. If he believed she was flattered by the attention of a noble seducer, and if he became sotted with lust, then his vigilance might slacken.
Could she do it?
After a moment’s cool thought, Elf decided she could. The safety of the nation apparently lay in her hands.
She turned back and relaxed against him. “I’ve never been in a lord’s house.”
To keep her head down, she acted coy, fiddling with the carved jet buttons on his coat. It was black too, for these days he wore deep mourning at all times—a simple black frock coat and breeches. Her fingers brushed against the finest quality wool, though. Even for treason, Lord Walgrave did not dress poorly.
“Never been in a lord’s house?” He already sounded less alert. One arm stayed tight around her, but the other slid up to stroke her neck. “Then it will be an adventure, my dear.” His teasing touch sent shivers down her spine. “You can order the servants about, bathe in milk, and take breakfast off golden plates. If you please me, that is.”
That was bringing matters to a head with a vengeance. But she supposed women fell at the crook of a finger from such a handsome young aristocrat. Or at the touch of a finger. The brush of his hand traveled to a spot just beneath her ear, causing a sensation so truly remarkable that she shivered.
“Oh, my lord, I’m a good girl,” she protested again, without much hope of convincing him. Wouldn’t a “good girl” find his touch repulsive?
Perhaps not.
“Virgin?” he asked bluntly.
She nodded, and in truth she was embarrassed now.
“I’ll take care with you, then. You won’t find it too unpleasant, and after the first time, it will get better. Now,” he said, ceasing his teasing touch and raising her chin, “tell me truthfully, do you have family who’ll kick up a fuss?”
If you only knew! Elf hoped that didn’t show in her eyes.
“At my being missing, my lord? I am visiting from France, living at the house of my English cousin. A married lady.” She took the opportunity to lower her head again. “I don’t think she’ll raise the alarm just yet—”
“How very obliging of her.” His voice had a cynical, knowing edge. “And what will happen when you don’t return in a day or two?”
She traced the braid down the front of his coat. “If I were with a fine lord . . .”
“They’d not be unduly upset. Good.” His fingers slid into her hair again, but this time to twist her face up to his. “I dislike scenes, Lisette. Let us be clear. I have no intention of marrying you. If you get with child, I
’ll pay for its care, but I will not marry you. I am not even interested in a permanent mistress. When I tire of you, there will be a generous parting gift, but I’ll expect you to take your dismissal without a scene.”
Elf shut her eyes. She hoped he took this for shock, but she needed to hide pure fury. The arrogance of the man! And how wretched that many women accepted such terms every day.
“Well?” he demanded.
He really didn’t care, which was another cause for fury. “Lisette” could be one of a hundred young women. She just happened to be the one to hand.
Elf told herself that the fact that Lisette was Lady Elfled Malloren had nothing to do with it. But Lady Elf was definitely not accustomed to being treated just as someone conveniently to hand.
Concentrating on appearing overwhelmed and flustered, she opened her eyes. “Of course you would never marry me, my lord. I would never expect it! But it’s a terrible step to take, to give my purity—”
“Sell,” he corrected. “Five hundred guineas when we part. Enough to make a future husband ignore any little details.”
Elf had lived her life among wealth and position and feared she could be just as arrogant in her own way. Her brothers were surely capable of this cold bartering of the flesh.
Viewed from the other side, however, it appalled her.
“Well?” he asked again. “I won’t rape you, but if I must keep close guard on you for a week, some sensual experiments will help pass the time.”
She reminded herself that she would use this to escape and snuggled closer. “If you promise to be kind, my lord,” she whispered.
“Good girl.” His hand rubbed against her neck, a comforting stroke now, as a person might stroke a cat. “You won’t believe how kind I can be, Lisette. Now, let’s see a little more of you.”
He unfastened the ribbons that held her domino closed and pushed it back. Then he blinked at her gown. “My dear Lisette! You need lessons in taste.”
Elf pushed away. “How dare you!”
“Offended you at last, have I?” he said with a laugh. “My dear, that is the most appalling ensemble I have ever seen.”
Now Elf did want to hit him, but she feared she’d let her ingenue manner slip. “These are my very favorite garments,” she informed him with a sulky pout.
“Then thank heavens I don’t intend to present you at Court.” He touched her angry lips. “Dress in the colors of the rainbow for all I care, poppet. I’ll even buy them for you if you want. But mostly I’ll want you naked . . .” Then he tilted her head back and brushed his lips over hers.
Despite her outrage, Elf couldn’t really object at this point, and so she let him tease her out of her annoyance.
He knew the tricks, did Lord Walgrave, and as he said, he could be kind. He did not force a kiss on her, but played with her lips while stroking her body, until she relaxed and responded without conscious thought.
Elf had been kissed a time or two, though never—being Lady Elfled Malloren—with such confident finesse. Even her boldest suitors had kept their senses alert for Rothgar.
Walgrave did not know he needed to be alert for danger. In fact, at the moment, none threatened and he was supremely at ease.
Having overwhelmed her first reluctance, he tightened his hold and brought his tongue into play. Elf struggled for a moment, but then relaxed. She was being thoroughly kissed by a master of the art and might as well enjoy it.
Taking a hint from his own practices, she slid her hands up to his shoulders and caressed his neck as he teased her mouth. She didn’t know how it felt to him, but touching his skin was almost as pleasurable as being touched.
The texture beneath her fingertips blended with the taste of him in her mouth, and with the feel of his body close to hers. The pleasure built faster than she’d imagined possible . . .
Then she realized he’d slid his hand between them to rub against her breast. Even through layers of stomacher and shift, the pressure tormented her. He unhooked the front of her open gown so it parted, leaving only her lace-frilled stomacher and scarlet satin petticoat to protect her.
She pulled her mouth free, intending to protest, but he laid his fingers over her lips and said, “Shhhhhh.”
To her bewilderment, she did.
Those eyes were the culprit, those bright blue—almost kingfisher blue—eyes smiling down into hers. She’d always known they were dangerous and she’d never seen them smiling before.
He should smile more often.
And now the aura surrounded them both, that aura of erotic energy she had always been aware of. It had been strong even in casual contact. Now it overwhelmed her, dizzying her as if with a fever.
Was it a smell?
No. A slight aroma surrounded him—a musky perfume and a subtle personal smell. But the aura could not be detected by anything except the especial part of a woman designed to respond to a man.
His hands had slid behind her, the touch on her ribs and spine sending shivers through her. With a few expert tugs at her stay-laces, he loosened her stomacher so he could ease it down from her breasts and fully touch one nipple.
Elf had definitely traveled into unexplored territory.
She knew she should protest, should fight, but it felt so utterly wonderful!
And would this ever happen again? She had escaped Elfled Malloren, who must be treated with respect at all times. Here she was just a woman being pleasured by a man. And such a man . . .
She relaxed against his arm and smiled.
He smiled back, looking so unlike her brooding, critical brother-in-law that she could almost be persuaded he’d traded places.
Traded places with the man of her dreams.
“Like that, do you, puss? And there are more wonders to come.” He eased her nipple up over the stiff stomacher and lowered his head.
At the first flick of his tongue, Elf gasped. When his teeth touched her, she squeaked and seized his hair, thinking to stop him.
Then he sucked at her and she whispered, “Juste ciel!” and held him closer.
“Ah,” he murmured softly against her flesh. “You recognize heaven, do you, little one.” He moved to torment her other breast.
Elf realized she was clutching his silky hair so tightly she was pulling it out of its ribbon. She relaxed her tense fingers, but then became aware of a throbbing itch between her legs that she understood all too well.
Never before, though, had she experienced hot desire quite like this. She wanted, needed, a man in a way she had never imagined possible.
Oh, she had certainly missed a great deal!
A purring noise startled her, especially when she realized it came from her own throat. That shocked her back to reality. She was in danger of falling into the trap she’d intended for him. She’d soon be so muddled she’d forget entirely that she planned to escape!
Escape, she reminded her dazed brain.
That meant she must fuddle him.
How, she had not the slightest idea. A wanton part of her body whispered that she could let him fuddle her entirely and see what happened next.
Still suckling at one, he touched the other exposed breast with delicate fingers. Oh yes, thought Elf, purring again, she could just let him enlighten her. After all, she’d wanted to experience this, and Walgrave clearly possessed useful skills.
Then her wits cleared. She could never make love and keep her mask on, yet to reveal her identity would be disastrous. Quite apart from scandal and his feelings about Mallorens, she didn’t want a traitor to know Elfled Malloren knew his secrets.
Traitor.
Treason.
Think, Elf!
So Elf did her best to ignore his sensitive attentions, drag her wits together, and find a way to turn the tables.
As a well-raised lady protected by four brothers she lacked experience, but having grown up with four brothers—one a frank-talking twin—she was not entirely ignorant. She had some theoretical notions of how to go on. Did she have the courage
?
Of course she did.
She was a Malloren.
Shifting slightly, she pressed her hand to his chest. Then, while he continued to drive her mad with his skillful lips and fingers, she slid her hand down his front till she found the solid shape she sought.
A solid shape, she knew, meant he was at least half fuddled.
Lud! He must be almost entirely fuddled.
He raised his head and looked at her, amusement warm in his eyes. “I thought you were an innocent little bird.”
“Oh I am, my lord! But not entirely ignorant . . .” She had no idea what to do next, so she tickled with one fingernail.
He laughed. “Your imprisonment and education promise to be delightful, Lisette.” But he removed her hand and sat her up. “We must delay it, however. We’re here.”
With the calm efficiency of a well-trained maid, he tucked her breasts back behind the stomacher and tightened her laces. Then he hooked her gown, rearranged her cloak, and pulled her to her feet.
Elf let him handle her like a puppet, stunned to realize that the boat had reached the stairs and been tied up without her noticing a thing.
Fuddled indeed!
She shivered, nerve endings raw with arousal and fear. She’d have to be a great deal more careful if she wanted to even recognize a chance to escape.
He climbed out and turned to hand her onto the well-lit private stairs leading to Walgrave House. Glancing back, looking for the enemy, Elf saw only the dark river dotted with the bobbing lights of other boats. There was no way to know if the assassins were still close by.
She looked around, hoping against hope for some escape path. The head-high walls of the gardens of Walgrave House surrounded her, however, and ahead loomed the solid mass of the house itself. Some windows glowed with welcoming light, but it looked like an effective prison to her.
Don’t be a fool, she berated herself, as she walked along the path beside Walgrave, torchbearers before and behind. Chastity had escaped from a most efficient prison, and Bryght’s Portia had climbed out of an upper-floor window! There were always ways.
Jo Beverley - [Malloren 03] Page 5
