“You are not my plaything,” he said at last. “I am yours.”
Fawn’s courage faltered. “Your intention is that I should live here as your mistress.” She could barely utter the word. “If it must happen, I ask that it happen quickly and be done with.”
“I don’t want you on those terms.” Crispin pushed back from the door and sat down on the bed. He rested his head in his hands. “Fawn, what is your impression of me?”
She twisted to examine him over her shoulder. “My impression of you can hardly matter, sir. You’ve made my life a torment. Is that what you want to know?”
“Damn you!” He lurched up and caught her around the waist. Crispin threw her down on the bed and bent over her. His blue eyes darkened to smoke and his full mouth beckoned. “No girl could look at man the way you are looking at me now and claim not to care about him.” When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “I must know what you think of me.”
“I hate you, Crispin Wolfe. I will never think well of you. Don’t look for it.”
Their eyes locked. They were both breathing hard, fighting rage and boiling emotion when, unexpectedly, Crispin bent lower and brushed his lips against hers.
Fawn’s breath caught. He had not kissed her before. Ever. Not even when Jocelyn introduced her as his niece. Wolfe’s mouth gently but firmly eased her lips apart and then his tongue burrowed into her mouth. Fawn melted as the kiss deepened and increased in passion. With exquisite self-control, Crispin’s lips and tongue claimed her senses. His hands cupped her face and she became as weak as a newborn kitten.
Second passed in quiet, constant, intense coupling of mouth and breath—and then he broke off the kiss.
Fawn turned her face to the wall, her chest heaving, shattered and humiliated. She was uncomfortably aware of a pulsing sensation between her thighs. Crispin’s powerful body stretched beside hers had tensed, robbing her of the ability to think. He was still fully dressed but that did not diminish the charge that went through her when his body curved around hers possessively.
“I have come to desire your good opinion,” he said softly. “But I will take you without it. You comprehend now that it is impossible to stop this. I’m aroused beyond anything in my experience. You will not refuse me, Fawn ... but I want more than your permission. I want you to love me.”
She turned to face him, her voice shaking. “If that is true, then I pity you. I will never love you, Wolfe. There will be nothing more between us than this.”
Crispin’s expression was unreadable as his hand reached down between them to unbutton his fly. Fawn experienced a shiver of longing when she looked into his eyes. He was beautiful, yet immoral. A man who would take her, use her and toss her aside when he tired of her.
The thought brought her to her senses.
“Stop,” she ordered firmly. “Whatever becomes of me, I must not be ashamed of my life. You claim to want my good opinion. You will lose it irrevocably if you ruin me.”
His sapphire eyes clouded. “Kiss me again and tell me you are not willing. I felt your passion. I feel it now. Let me make love to you ... let me be your first ... let me, Fawn ... let me.”
Her breathing grew ragged again. It would be so easy to give in and let him take her. How much longer could she resist his advances in this room? Even now, a yawning emptiness had settled inside her belly. The kiss he had given her was a glimpse at a much deeper satisfaction.
She closed her eyes and shifted under him slightly, invitingly. Her neck and face flamed scarlet. Crispin unbuttoned his trousers. Fawn opened her eyes to watch as his fingers worked the fastenings.
“Why me?” she whispered. Her feelings were deeply conflicted. “You could have had any woman you wanted. Why did you single me out to be your latest conquest?”
Before he could answer there was a light rap on the door.
Crispin broke away from her, snarling profanity as he adjusted his trousers and fastened the buttons of his fly. He marched to the door and flung it wide. “What?” he barked in a savage tone.
Mr. Greaves stood in the hall, red-faced, clutching a square envelope.
Chapter Six
“I AM SORRY to disturb you, sir. This has just arrived from Mrs. Heathcote. Will there be a return message, sir?”
Crispin ripped open the envelope and quickly scanned the contents. He crumpled the note into a ball and flung it toward the fireplace. It landed on the hearth.
“No, there is no reply needed. That will be all, Greaves.”
He slammed the door and spun on his heel to face Fawn. “My sister, in a fit of hysterics has ordered me home immediately. She claims her niece has run off and the household is in an uproar. I shall be gone for less than an hour. Do not leave the Regency in the event the police have been alerted. I shall return directly.”
Fawn scrambled from the bed to retrieve the crushed missive from the hearth. In a daze, she smoothed it out and read what her aunt had written. Her mouth dried.
With great cunning, Jocelyn had composed a message of deep concern, fearing that Fawn had run off and was likely living in disrepute with an older man. With the family name at stake, such a charge would lead to her utter downfall. In her position, Fawn was without rights. She had every reason to stay put as Wolfe instructed, but for one thing.
“The look I saw in the concierge’s eye—no man has looked at me in such a disrespectful way. The women of my acquaintance are not looked at in such a way. This is not how I want to live my life. I must be loved and given a home of my own or I will live as a spinster. If I consent to be your mistress, I will have neither home nor respect. No! No! I will not be here when you return.”
His jaw tightened. The coal of desire was still burning in his eyes but there was something else stirring in those hidden depths.
“Where will you go?” he asked calmly. “I’ll order a carriage if you can supply me with an address but I cannot allow you to roam the streets. Jocelyn is hell-bent on bringing you up before a magistrate. She could have you committed, are you aware of that? You could be sentenced to Broadmoor Asylum for the Criminally Insane.”
“I am aware of the danger, uncle,” Fawn drawled. “If you are trying to frighten me into joining you in bed, give up. My feelings are unchanged. I will not consent.”
His eyes glittered. “Uncle is a handy designation. As your guardian, it is in my power to overrule Jocelyn’s charge. I am saving you from ruin and you refuse to acknowledge it! You asked why I chose you for my latest conquest.” Crispin laughed bitterly. “It is the other way around. It is you who have imprisoned me. This obsession will destroy me. I will burn the world down if necessary to have you.”
He took her hand in his, turned it over and kissed her palm. Stunned, Fawn did not pull away but stood very still as his lips traveled up the inside of her bare arm, planting each kiss on her flesh with confusing, heart-stopping tenderness.
The world fell away and all was silent. Fawn was lost in a fog of sensation, aware only of Crispin’s lips on her skin. Her hand looked so small in his, she thought dimly. A thing of great value was slipping away from her and it was beyond her power to hold on to it.
She staggered against him, made weak from his seduction.
With great effort and a visible strain that Fawn did not understand, Crispin released her and stepped back.
“Not now,” he muttered. “Soon, soon ... after I’ve seen to Jocelyn. Wait for my return. Promise me.”
The beat of her heart slowed to its usual tempo. The room had returned to its familiar lines. Crispin’s kiss had not changed the impossible into the possible. She would not give into him.
“It won’t change anything. After a letter like that, I cannot be seen with you in public. In a few hours, all of London will think you have seduced me. My aunt has cleverly cast a shadow on my reputation. Read it!” Fawn shoved the letter at him. “I am thought to be living with an older man!”
She slumped to the chair and buried her face in her hands. “Why does she h
ate me so much?”
“She is jealous of you,” Crispin said. “She wants me for herself.”
Fawn lifted her eyes in horror. “But you are her brother!”
“We were not raised together. Jocelyn sees me as her possession, a husband surrogate. Perhaps she thinks I owe her my devotion. Perhaps I do, but I will not be bullied into it by jealous rage.”
Crispin hesitated, as if weighing the consequences of what he was about to do, and then crossed to the dresser. Reaching into the back of a drawer, he withdrew a heavily embossed envelope, opened the flap and removed a letter.
“I know its message from memory,” he said curtly.
Fawn received the missive from his hand, greatly puzzled. The heavy paper was creased and well worn, and the ink faded.
My dearest Helen,
You must never hesitate to ask anything of me. You are my oldest and dearest friend! I will always put your interests and those of your son before any social standing. So enough nonsense and write me this instant with the hour that I can expect you! However grieved I am by your misfortune, I am selfishly overjoyed at the prospect of our reunion. You and Crispin will have a home at Hawkcliffe Hall as long as I have breath in my body. This old house is lonely and I shall be glad of your company. And as Crispin is my godson and only heir, Hawkcliffe Hall will be his one day. He should become reacquainted with the estate.
Please do not hesitate. Come immediately!
Yours,
Connie
It was dated the tenth of August, 1860.
“Lady Constance was a childhood friend of my mother’s,” he explained. “Hawkcliffe Hall was her estate and now it is mine.”
Wolfe picked up his cloak and hat from the leather chair. “I’m taking you to King’s Cross Station where there is a train leaving for Stokesbay at half-past one. Purchase a second class seat on the Northwestern line. I’ll meet you at the station but if I am delayed, I want you to board the train. Upon your arrival show the letter to the station master and order a carriage to take you to the estate. If he gives you any trouble, tell him you are my niece. They only respect family connections in that part of the country.”
Her uncle straightened his cloak over his shoulders and pulled on his gloves. “Don’t look so glum,” he said and a rare smile broke across his face. “I’ll sort Jocelyn out in a few minutes and meet you at King’s Cross with time to spare. Now, quickly, get your things; we’ll leave together. There is another matter I must attend to before we can be on our way.”
Fawn straightened her stockings and pulled on her skirt, astonished when Wolfe helped her fasten it at the back and then assisted her into the tight sleeves of the black wool jacket. As she worked the fastenings, he straightened her hair into a neat twist and set her bonnet on her head.
His ministrations were disorientating because she could not trust his kindness to be genuine. I must remain on guard and remember his true objective, she thought.
Fawn gathered her mantle and muff and pulled on her gloves. Minutes later, she was following Crispin’s long stride down the hall. Her battered valise was in his left hand, an incongruous object for such a man to be carrying. When they reached the lobby of the Regency, her uncle set the bag down and stalked to the front desk, a thunderous look in his eye.
She was some distance behind, concealed behind a potted palm when she witnessed Captain Wolfe abruptly grab Greaves by the collar and shove him against the wall. What prompted the violence, Fawn didn’t know, having only heard the last portion of the exchange.
“If you ever address my niece in a manner that causes her distress, it will be the last thing you do. Miss Heathcote is under my protection; I caution you to remember it.”
Greaves trembled and purpled with terror. “I am sorry, sir. I meant no disrespect. It was an honest mistake given the circumstance. Please convey my apologies to the young lady.”
Horror-struck, Fawn stepped out from behind the plant and quickly inserted herself between her uncle and the concierge. “Captain Wolfe, it is quite all right. I accept this man’s apology. I am sure the error will not happen again. Please, may we go now?”
Crispin released Greaves who jumped back to the safety of his desk. “Shall I order you a carriage, sir?”
“No, I need the walk.” He picked up the valise and clasped Fawn’s arm. “King’s Cross Station is not far. Good day, Greaves.”
“Good day, sir. And to you, Miss Heathcote—good day.”
Fawn turned back as they left the Regency to see Greaves mopping his brow with a handkerchief. His hands were still shaking from the encounter.
The walk was done in brisk silence, a condition she tolerated until they approached the entrance to King’s Cross. “Captain Wolfe, what has upset you? Have I made you angry?”
He stopped abruptly. “You? How could you make me angry? You are my only delight. Greaves needed a lesson taught; I was glad to oblige.”
Her uncle resumed walking and Fawn was forced in step since he had hold of her arm. Wolfe escorted her inside where he purchased a ticket for her, and then walked her to a bench under the clock. Crispin set the valise down at her feet.
“Do not move from this spot until the train arrives or I return. Do you understand?”
Fawn did not bother to reply. He bid her a civil adieu before going off to placate his half-sister. She did not accept his bizarre explanation for Aunt Jocelyn’s hostility toward Fawn. Doubtless, the lady wanted her brother to conduct himself like a gentleman. Jocelyn was protective, as any good sister would be, and hated to see him to squander his future on loose women.
Fawn watched her uncle walk away, his broad shoulders elegant in his black cloak, his long legs in the high black boots. He was undoubtedly handsome and virile. As Mrs. Castlewaite predicted, Aunt Jocelyn would have trouble controlling him.
What sort of life she would find at Hawkcliffe Hall, Fawn wondered. She was angered by Crispin’s defence of her at the Regency. The unmitigated hypocrisy! The concierge was only speaking the truth. An unmarried girl in a man’s room who was not tangibly related to him was an object of scorn. A slattern.
And a slattern she would remain if she was taken in sin at his country house. Her eyes traveled to the well-dressed ladies on the arms of their husbands strolling through the station. She would never know the life those ladies enjoyed ... a happy life of respectability. Worst of all, she would never be loved.
Fawn was startled by the scream of a train whistle sounding on the platform. She glanced up at the clock. The hour was nearing half-past and there was no sign of Crispin.
He has made peace with his sister. He is not coming.
Fawn realized with a pang of embarrassment that Captain Wolfe had never intended to join her. The ticket was a ploy to get her out of London and rid himself of a nuisance—a girl who had not been cooperative in bed. What could be more tedious? He had no use for Fawn Heathcote. He had a greater need for his half-sister’s money.
The train whistle screamed again as it approached the station. The massive black engine of iron and steam pounded into the graceful tunnel of glass and slowed to a stop at the platform.
She rose to her feet and cast a last look at the grand entranceway for a sign of her uncle’s tall well-built form, his ebony hair and piercing blue stare.
There was no sign of him.
She should be glad he isn’t coming, she thought as she was handed into the second-class carriage. The journey to Stokesbay would take under five hours. She had three pounds, eleven shillings tucked in her embroidered handbag, the letter from Lady Constance and the note from her Aunt Jocelyn. Each might prove useful in time but she did not know how.
Fawn rested her head against the seat and tried very hard not to think.
§
HIS SISTER had taken to her bed, Crispin was informed and he gritted his teeth as he climbed the stairs.
He barged into Jocelyn’s room without knocking and stood at attention. “What seems to be the trouble now?”
Jocelyn sat up in bed, her mouth pulled to a mischievous pout. “I didn’t think you would come, Crispin. Dearest, I would not have troubled you for the world if I was not genuinely concerned about Fawn.”
Her long auburn hair streamed over her shoulders and she’d applied rouge to her cheeks if Crispin was not mistaken. “I’m glad to hear it. She needs your good will more than I do.”
“Where is she?”
He stared unseeing into the middle distance. “Fawn is staying with a friend and she will not be returning to this house.”
Jocelyn’s eyes narrowed. “My niece has no friends. Who do you mean?”
“Lady Gillian Coleridge until other arrangements can be made.”
Responding to his coldness, his sister changed tactics. She climbed out of bed and flung herself into Crispin’s arms. “I forbid you to be angry with me, dearest. I know better than you do what sort of girl Fawn is—she would do anything to sink her claws into you! I plan to give you a sizeable allowance and don’t think she doesn’t know it!”
“Well, she is gone now, so if that is all you have to say, I have business to attend to at Hawkcliffe Hall. I’ll be away for a week or more. My train leaves within the hour.”
“Please don’t go, my love,” she wheedled. “My nerves will not endure it after everything I’ve been through.” She clung to him. “Stay for a day or two more and then we’ll travel to Hawkcliffe together. We could devise a plan for its renovation together. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know how it pains you to see the estate fall into disrepair.”
Crispin extricated himself from her grip. “Your sudden interest in my home is touching. I’m going, dear sister, and your nerves may go to hell for all I care.” He stalked to the door.
“It’s that girl, isn’t it?” Jocelyn shriek hysterically. “She is every bit the slattern your mother was! I warn you, Crispin—if you leave this house, I will kill myself! You will never see a penny of my money! Do you hear me? Do not leave—don’t you dare leave!”
The Dark Regent Page 5
