With great effort he tore his lips from her sweetly clinging ones, burying his hot face in her hair. He could feel the quivering of her body against his, the heaving of her breasts and the way her arms clung tightly to him.
“I love you, Jane,” he whispered, “and I want you— not just now, but forever. Marry me my sweet little darling, be my wife.”
Marriage. She had never thought of that with Owen. The tumult within her began to subside. She couldn’t possibly marry him. The only man she had even considered for a husband was dead and even if he wasn’t it wouldn’t matter. He had been in love with another woman while she had lusted after him all along. Owen expected a guileless, innocent virgin on his wedding night, not a woman enamored of a ghost, who had lost her virginity long ago in an ill-fated affair.
Jane had to admit that she had come closer to feeling again with Owen than she had with any other man since Scott. But it wouldn’t work. He expected her to be what she was not. What if she told him? But how could she? He would never understand in a million years and she would only humiliate herself in the process. It would be better to keep the secret locked away safely in her heart and spare them both.
She tore free of his embrace unexpectedly and Owen looked at her anguished face, tears streaming in her darkened eyes.
“Jane!” He tried to snatch her back into his arms but she held him off with just a look.
“No, Owen,” she whispered dolorously. “It is impossible, it would never work. We are too different.”
“The only thing that matters, Jane, is love. Any other problems can be overcome.” He touched her soft cheek fleetingly. “Can you honestly tell me you feel nothing for me? Tell me you don’t love me and. . .”
“Will you leave me alone then?”
“No!” he groaned. “I can’t! I can hope, can’t I? You might change your mind.”
“Very well. I will tell you the real reason. You are poor!” She almost stopped when she saw him flinch as if she had slapped him. “I will not live in poverty. I refuse to do without everything I am accustomed to. Maybe some women can but I cannot!”
Owen’s hands clenched, white knuckled, into fists and he looked at her as if she had just shattered his last remaining hope. Jane had a horrible feeling she had just destroyed him and she opened her mouth to take it back, to tell him she lied.
“Go!” he cried hoarsely sinking down onto a bench with his face in his hands.
For a second she had a crazy impulse to kneel beside him and kiss away the hurt, to hold his face against her breast, stroke his hair and comfort him.
“Get out of here, damn it!” Owen growled and Jane picked up her skirts and fled like a swift wind through the garden and into the house.
Angela was standing before the French doors in the sitting room when Jane burst into the room whitefaced, almost knocking her over. She took one look at Angela and promptly burst into tears sinking into a heap on the Aubusson rug. Angela knelt beside her and put her arms around her, comforting her as best she could.
Jane couldn’t help herself from pouring out the whole story into Angela’s sympathetic ear and her friend sat beside her quietly absorbing it all.
“Do you love him?” Angela asked gently when she was through.
“Yes, no, I don’t know!”
“Jane, Jane, if only you had told him the truth; anything but what you said! I’m afraid you will never know how much you have hurt him. Owen was just beginning to recover from one disastrous—no, I am saying too much.” Angela got to her feet. “You must tell him the real reason.”
“No, I can’t and you must not either. Promise you won’t, Angela!”
“I promise nothing!” she said emphatically, walking toward the open doors.
“You are supposed to be my friend!” Jane called after her. “What about all your secrets I never revealed?"
“This is different. You and Owen are both my friends. How can you ask me to divide my loyalties? I will do what I think is best.”
Angela walked toward the summerhouse, her mind in a turmoil. She didn’t know what to do, only that whatever happened she would probably lose a friend. She was caught between Owen and Jane and had a feeling that probity must win out no matter what.
Owen appeared around the corner of the path, his face expressionless. His eyes though revealed some of the torment he was going through. He forced a smile and Angela reciprocated.
“Just the person I wanted to see!” he said jauntily. “How about a deliriously wild night on the town? This time you can help me drown my sorrows!”
“Of course, Owen, but you don’t have to pretend for me. I know what happened. Jane told me everything. I...”
“No, I don’t want to talk about it! I have to get some perspective on the subject before I can look at the situation objectively.”
“Owen,” she sighed sadly taking his hand, “it’s not quite what you think. I know the real truth.”
“Does it matter? Jane doesn’t love me or want me. I have been rejected and know when to quit!”
“We are very much alike, you and I,” said Angela, “but with one exception. I never quit. Not until. . .” her voice trailed off.
“Now I’ve depressed you! I’m sorry. You’re an angel.”
She swung away from him, her eyes wide in a white face. “Don’t ever call me that! No one calls me that but. . .”
“Your husband,” Owen supplied. “Please forgive me. I didn’t know.”
Angela gained a semblance of control. “You couldn’t know. I should apologize for snapping at you. Quite a jolly pair we should make tonight!” She forced a laugh.
“Look at us! Two outcasts cast up on the same shore by fate, both of us mooning over what we cannot have!”
Angela clasped the opals around her neck where they blazed like a hundred pinpoints of different colored fire. Her gown was white silk, simple in cut and design but shimmering with opalescent threads. The match was perfect. She slipped the heart-shaped diamond onto her finger. Angela felt naked without it and everyone at Madame Saisset’s identified her by it. They couldn’t help noticing the unusual stone flashing on her hand as they played cards.
She felt daring tonight and although many women wore their hair in short curls she decided to flaunt convention and let her luxuriant long tresses float free this evening. Smoothing back the curls that tumbled around her face she fastened two jeweled combs on either side of her head, holding her hair out of her eyes.
Angela tossed the mask aside. Why wear it when everyone knew who she was anyway? The Prince of Wales had seen to that. He had been enchanted with her story of the Twenty-Eight Club but claimed he could never become a member. It would be utterly impossible to ferret out all the shepherdesses in his house. He laughed and promised to keep the secret, vowing she amused him more than anyone.
Angela took everyone’s breath away as she entered with no mask and her long raven hair unbound like a gypsy. She had even diverted Owen and he declared that if both of their hearts were not otherwise occupied he would have proposed on the spot. Angela gave him a teasing smile and replied that she just might consider it.
As always there were the bizarre sights at the club. Eyes rolled when the Earl of Bridgewater appeared with several cats and dogs in attendance dressed like miniature men and women. Rumor had it that he had a whole houseful of animals with servants just to look after them and change their clothes. He had them driven out every day in his carriage and they even ate at the dining room table with him. Heaven only knew what else went on there.
As Angela sat playing ombre a servant handed Owen a note. He interrupted her briefly to say that it was urgent that he see someone in the other room.
“Just stay here while I’m gone and you will be safe,” Owen suggested. “I will be back in just a few minutes.” He had barely left before another servant appeared with a message that Keith was upstairs and wanted to see her. If she didn’t meet him he would create a scene in front of everyone. Angrily Angela withdre
w from the game and followed the man upstairs. The effrontery of Keith to spy on her! Well she would give him a piece of her mind and a good tongue lashing too.
She opened the door and slammed it behind her enraged. But her blazing eyes encountered not Keith but the small jet eyes of Thurston Vaughn. Before she could make a move he was at her side between her and the door, blocking her way to freedom.
It was a trick and there was absolutely no way out. Stupidly she had played right into the big clammy hands that were touching the bare skin of her arms. She suppressed a shiver and tried to gather her wits. She had no chance fighting against him physically. He was twice as big as she, his thick muscles bulging with every move.
“Will you have some wine?” Thurston asked indicating the well-stocked sideboard.
“No,” she answered primly. “I want to go!”
“Of course; I know you detest me. Has my brother been telling you stories? I assure you that’s only his point of view. I’m not such a villain as he makes me out.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his cold eyes. “You may go after we talk.”
“I don’t want to talk to you and I detest your use of devious methods to get me here!”
“But how else could I get you here? You wouldn’t come of your own free will.” They circled each other, Angela keeping as far from him as possible. “Come now, I won’t eat you! I have a perfectly legitimate proposal to put before you. I want you to marry me. We are both very wealthy and you and I together could practically rule England financially. How would you like to be the uncrowned queen of this country? You could have anything in the world.”
“Except what I really want. No one on earth can give me that. You don’t even tempt me,” Angela sneered. “I wouldn’t marry you if I was starving in the streets!”
She had the spunk and courage to face up to him. Thurston admired that. She wouldn’t be a namby-pamby, retiring shadow like Beth. What he could do with a woman like Angela by his side! The fact that he was obsessively in love with her, he could never let her know. But he was in a quandary as to how to get her to agree to marry him.
He couldn’t bribe her, or woo her. He could try compromising her but that had been done before and he knew she could be quite stubborn. He had made it his business to find out everything about Angela and knew it would be no easy feat. Force or duress wouldn’t work either because he wanted her cooperation.
With a swift movement Thurston caught Angela against him, forcing her head back. Her teeth were clenched against the invasion of his kiss and her eyes were wide open but she made absolutely no move to fight him. She could barely suppress the nausea as his wet red lips moved disgustingly on hers, his tongue trying to force an entry.
Angela stood motionless, crushed against his massive body. His hand cupped her buttocks pulling her against him, letting her feel his desire. She was paralyzed with fright. He could do anything he pleased with her and no one would come to her rescue. Owen didn’t know where she was. She was beginning to feel faint when Thurston released her as suddenly as he had attacked.
It was just as he had thought, Angela wanted nothing to do with him. He had discerned from her past history that she was an extremely hot-blooded woman and decided to try that as a last resort.
“You can go now. Let me escort you safely downstairs.”
“Everyone will talk—” she began.
“They are already talking. Is it true you are keeping my brother? At least if they gossip about us they won’t think that your dislike of me is too obvious.”
As they descended the staircase together Thurston whispered, “I will have you one way or another. Don’t let this fiasco fool you.”
She had meant to leave as soon as possible; go home and recover from the little skirmish Thurston had put her through. But as they reached the last step Keith approached her, his eyes shooting sparks of blue fire.
“So this is where Vaughn has been taking you. I should have known!” He grasped her hand but she clung to Thurston’s arm. He seemed the safe alternative now. “Just wait till I get you home!”
“The lady,” drawled Thurston in a dangerously understated tone, “is with me. Would you like to dispute it?”
“You have been with him?”
Angela nodded unable at the moment to speak. People had started staring and she saw Owen making his way hurriedly toward them.
“Angela!” Owen was frantic with worry. “I have been looking all over the place for you. Where have you been?”
“She has been upstairs with your brother,” Keith informed him, still clinging tightly to Angela’s hand.
Owen said nothing but his eyes bespoke what he was feeling. He made every effort to control his temper and keep himself from challenging Thurston again. She seemed all right although her eyes were enormous and frightened. What had happened? With Thurston only the worst was possible and he felt his temper giving way.
Angela knew she had to do something. In another moment all three of them would be fighting over her. With a slight inclination of her head she spoke stiffly to Thurston. “Sir, thank you for escorting me safely back to your brother.”
Thurston smiled his approval of her control of herself and the situation, as Angela took Owen’s arm. She pulled her hand free of Keith’s grasp and conferred an icy stare upon him.
“And as for you—what I choose to do is absolutely no concern of yours! Owen, take me back to the tables.”
Silently they made their way across the large room while Keith looked scowlingly after them and Thurston surveyed everything with a slight smirk on his face. The tongues would be wagging tomorrow and that might not be bad for him at all. Their names would be linked and everyone would know they had been upstairs together. That usually meant only one thing.
“Are you all right, Angela?” Owen whispered out of the corner of his mouth. “If Thurston touched you I vow I'll kill him this time!”
“I’m fine. Nothing happened.” She couldn’t let Owen know about that repulsive kiss and the expert fumbling. “He wants to marry me. Lord, Owen, don’t stop now. Keep walking!”
A shimmering white mist hung over the Serpentine, undulating as it broke up. Not a breath of air stirred the remaining leaves on the trees. Hyde Park was deserted at the early hour right before dawn and that was the way Angela liked it.
She rode Pegasus at a canter through the thickly fallen leaves, scattering them like rolling waves behind her. Tiny droplets of fog clung like beads to her thick lashes and black hair and the first rays of sunlight appeared turning them to gold. Deep breaths of the crisp air revived her flagging spirits.
She had returned home only a few hours ago from Madame Saisset’s after a losing streak. She had been unable to concentrate on the card games after the events of the night. Sleep had fled as her mind worked frantically, rerunning everything that had happened. So she had decided on a ride to clear her head.
She had gotten off easily this time. Thurston’s warning rang in her ears and Angela shuddered thinking of what might have happened. The kiss had been bad enough but anything further she couldn’t begin to contemplate. Thank goodness she had prevented another duel. The way things had been going all three of them would have been engaged in fisticuffs in another minute.
So deep in thought was Angela that she didn’t see the dark brown horse and rider among the trees. A shout startled her and she looked up to find a masked man astride a horse with a pistol pointed at her. He leaned over easily snatching the reins from her fingers.
“Your money or your life!” he called, his eyes taking in every detail of her richly attired form and the magnificent steed she was riding.
Her reaction caught him off guard, because she threw back her lovely head and loosed peals of laughter into the fog. Most women would have fainted or at the very least would have been terrified, so he loosed a long stream of abusive speech at her. That only seemed to amuse her more and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
Angela managed to find her voice and said
with laughter still shaking her, “But, Sir Highwayman, you are the answer to a prayer. For you see, I have come away from home without my purse and now you will have to shoot!”
She was either mad or calling his bluff but which ever it was he didn’t like it.
“I must warn you, however, that I have tangled with the best of highwaymen before and came out unscathed, so beware. Perhaps you knew him—Jack Newton? Some say he was the best but neither that nor the fact that I testified in his defense saved him from having his neck stretched.”
Although she still smiled, a rather melancholy air came over her and he cursed the luck that had made him stop her. Of course he knew all about Gentleman Jack and what had happened to him. Hadn’t the papers been full of it? Damn, could she possibly be the duchess he had abducted and had an affair with? She was certainly beautiful enough to tempt the king himself.
“Yes,” Angela said, reading his mind. “It’s me, but why do you hesitate? It would be so easy to pull that trigger and I assure you—you would be doing me a large favor by ending my miserable existence!”
They both looked up as hoofbeats sounded in the distance and the masked man gingerly handed Angela back her reins. He swept off his hat and gave her an exaggerated bow.
“Good morning to you, Duchess. I prefer to let the legend live!” And without a backward glance he swiftly rode off out of sight of the approaching rider.
Angela just sat there looking after the highwayman, a sad little smile on her lips. She had outfaced him and even though she had told him to shoot she hadn’t wanted him to. Was she finally getting over the loss of Scott? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she no longer wished herself dead, and that might be a good sign.
“Angela! What are you doing here all alone at this time of the morning?” Owen halted just inches away from where she sat.
“So you couldn’t sleep either. It was quite an interesting night, wasn’t it?”
Across Captive Seas Page 15
