An Indecent Proposition (37 page)

Exhilarating, she decided as her body began to accept and respond to the rhythm of thrust and withdrawal. His hand slipped between them, touching her, rubbing as he continued, and she felt flickers of pleasure with each touch, each stroke.

“Again, Annie,” he urged, his eyes heavy-lidded. “For me. Again.”

What did he want? she wondered frantically until she felt that interesting tension, her spine arching. Her thighs tightened around his hips and she made a very unladylike sound, the moan torn from her throat.

It felt so . . . good. Very good.

Incredible.

Unbelievable.

Her hands fisted in the coverlet, she stopped breathing and the world flickered away. She shuddered and clung to him, damp skin to damp skin, her body trembling with pleasure. Derek groaned and went still, his muscles hard and rigid, and she felt a curious warm fluid pulse deep inside her.

The bedroom was quiet except for their harsh breathing. Annabel, for whatever reason, began to laugh, a weak sound because she still wasn’t sure she could breathe. She clasped her arms around Derek’s neck and murmured against his throat, “I believe you now. You do want to marry me.”

His lips feathered across her brow. “I’ve never been so sincere about anything in my life.”

I
nto every Eden must crawl some serpent. The calling card arrived on a silver tray and Caroline glanced at it with disinterest at first, but as she recognized the engraved name, a sense of foreboding made her stomach flop over. Though she would normally have refused him, today it didn’t appear to be an option, according to her butler.

“He is very insistent, my lady, and claims to know firsthand you are at home.”

How that was possible she wasn’t sure, but the last time they’d spoken, Franklin had appeared out of nowhere at just the right moment.

Or wrong, depending on a person’s point of view.

Norman, hardly in his youth, was not someone to cast out Franklin Wynn, who was two decades younger and infinitely more determined. Caroline gave a very unladylike inward curse and murmured, “Very well, show him in.”

“There’s no need. Good morning, my lady.”

Startled at Franklin’s audacity in following the butler without waiting for her response to his call, Caroline stared at the man who brushed past an outraged-looking Norman into the room.

Her cousin—not that she claimed the relationship gladly—wore plum this time, she noted as he strode into the room. It was impossible to miss. A dark purple coat, a lighter embroidered waistcoat, lavender breeches, and even his shoes were that shade below white silk stockings. His pale eyes glittered with the usual ice, and his mouth curved in a way that made her breath catch in apprehension. Dark hair waved away from his coldly handsome features and one lip curled upward just a fraction.

She liked nothing whatsoever about his expression.

“You are home from the country, I see.” Without invitation or more than a brief, negligible bow, he tossed his tail-coats up and took a seat. Very comfortably. As if the room were his, not hers. “That’s the second trek in a month, isn’t it? Unusual. I wasn’t aware you traveled so often.”

How the devil did he know where she’d gone?

“Yes,” she said with very little inflection.

His next words chilled her to the bone. “How
are
Rothay and Manderville?”

Her mind went blank for a moment. Blank.

She had been going over her correspondence in the morning room and carefully set aside the letter she’d been reading so he wouldn’t detect the tremor in her hand. “I beg your pardon?”

“The two lascivious rogues that are the talk of the city right now. How are they?” Franklin leaned back triumphantly in one of the chairs, a supercilious smirk on his face.

Did he really know something or was he fishing?

Caroline shook off a chill despite the warm morning sun pouring in the windows and giving the airy room a mellow glow. “I’m confused, my lord. How should I know?”

“My speculation would be, of course, that you, despite all outward appearances that would make anyone disinclined to believe it, are the judge for their boastful contest. Why else would you be meeting them both at a dreary little inn?”

Her stomach lurched. “That, sir, is a lie.”

He leaned forward with his hands on his knees. “Is it?”

“Of course. Where did you get such an extraordinary notion?”

“Where indeed?”

It was going to be very difficult to maintain some absurd cat-and-mouse game with her heart pounding like the hooves of one of Nicholas’s fabulous horses in the stretch. “It seems a very straightforward question.”

Yet he didn’t answer it. “I am very interested to know the outcome. Tell me, did Manderville fail to perform adequately? I understand he arrived first but did not stay long. On the other hand, you and the duke spent several nights together. I take it Rothay wins?”

She felt faint with the horrifying realization that he truly did know. Of all people, Franklin was the last one she would want to have leverage against her. She tried desperately to keep her composure. It had been her only defense against Edward and she certainly needed it at this terrible moment.

In a credible voice, she said, “Do you have some reason for coming here and leveling this scandalous accusation at me?”

Franklin clucked his tongue. “Dear me, you look quite pale all of a sudden. Can I get you something?”

Leave
, her mind screamed.
Get out.
But on the other hand, she didn’t want him to go until she understood his purpose for coming in the first place.

“I’m quite well, thank you.”

“Indeed. You are lovely. I like that color on you, but your beauty is undeniable no matter what you wear. Or don’t wear, I’m sure. I suspect I’m going to find you even more appealing when you are naked in my bed, your legs spread, like the pretty whore you’ve proven yourself to be.”

Bile rose in her throat. Her trembling hands were clenched together so tightly her knuckles ached. For a moment she could do nothing more than stare at the sadistic and gloating look on his face. The resemblance to Edward was like reliving a nightmare. She had seen that lascivious glitter in those similar pale eyes before, and experienced what it meant.

“No matter what foul things you threaten to say about me, I will not be your mistress,” she said with full icy conviction.

“Nor do I want you to be.” His tone held a mocking edge and he smiled in a way that would make a reptile look appealing. “I’m proposing marriage. Your loose morals are something I can overlook when I consider the fortune I stand to gain.”

A second marriage with a man who reminded her so much of her brutal, callous husband that the mere sight of him made her feel ill? The idea was so repugnant she had to stifle a hysterical laugh. Social ruin was much more preferable.

Caroline looked him in the eye. “Never.”

His pale eyes narrowed and his sallow cheeks took on a flush. “I believe you misunderstand me. You have no choice.”

“I have every choice.” She stood and indicated the doorway. “Please leave
my
home.”

The emphasis had the desired effect and his mouth tightened. He got to his feet as well, but made no move toward the doorway. Instead he took a step closer. “I’ll destroy you. Blacken your name so no hostess will ever receive you. So no decent man will look your direction unless he wants a quick tumble with an infamous harlot.”

“No one will believe your malicious lies, my lord. My reputation for virtuous distance is well-known.” It was a bluff, but she didn’t care. All she wanted was him away from her.

“I have the evidence of the men I hired to watch you, my dear Caroline. In addition to a written statement from the innkeeper. He says you arrived with one man and left with another. Did you think it would go unremarked? If it makes you feel better, the wife of the innkeeper thought the duke’s dramatic arrival rather romantic, but then again, I understand most females fall under Rothay’s spell. She was able to describe all three of you perfectly.”

“Why would you have me followed?” The last thing she wanted was to engage in further conversation with him, but he was clearly the enemy and dealing with Edward had taught her it was good to be able to gauge their tactics. It had helped her survive with a minimum of damage, or she hoped so.

“You have something I want.”

“The money.” Should she buy him off? For a moment she wondered if it would be worth it to hand over the fortune she’d inherited to be rid of him.

Then he raked her body with a deliberate insulting perusal. “Two things I want,” he corrected softly.

That
was out of the question. “Get out,” she ordered, proud that her voice was steady and definite. “And your protestations of a family tie mean nothing to me, so please feel free to never call again.”

He took another step forward and was close enough to touch her. Menace glittered in his eyes. “This house should have been mine. So should you. Everything that was Edward’s should be mine. The title means little without the fortune he left to you instead. I am determined to gain it one way or the other.”

His cold tone sent a chill up her spine. Alarmed, she still refused to retreat. “I am going to call for someone to escort you out, my lord.”

“No, you aren’t.”

The sudden lunge took her off guard. It wasn’t that she trusted him, but gentlemen callers in lavender breeches with lace at their cuffs and embossed cards did not often grab their hostess and clamp an unrelenting hand over her mouth.

Outraged, she began to struggle, an awful sense of how disparate their sizes were swamping her with dreadful memories of this very thing, where she felt overwhelmed and powerless. When he dragged her to a small sofa in the corner and forced her down on it, she went almost limp, her limbs frozen, her mind seized with a horrific sense of the inevitability of what might happen.

Franklin thrust his face close and hissed, “You ice-cold bitch. All along looking at me as if I was some parasite, avoiding my calls, pretending not to be home when I knew full well you were in residence. My cousin must have enjoyed you very well to leave you his fortune, and I wish a taste of it too. I insist upon it, no matter how you try to deny me. Afterwards, you will be obligated to accept me or banish the idea of a respectable life.”

No. She’d endured it too many times to let it ever happen again. The delicacy of Nicholas’s touch, his wicked enticing smile, the passion in his dark eyes, swam into her memory. He hadn’t exactly proposed marriage, but with his extraction of a promise of love from her, she hoped maybe—maybe—he would, despite her flawed body’s inability to produce a child.

She bit down, managing to catch the palm of her assailant’s confining hand with her teeth so she tasted the iron bitterness of blood. For one moment Franklin loosened the pressure and uttered a curse, and she gave a small, choked scream.

“You little witch.” Franklin’s face was contorted with anger, just inches above hers, and she was certain he would have struck her if he hadn’t been more concerned with keeping her quiet. She squirmed, fighting the pinning weight of his body, trying to claw her way free. His hand raked her thigh as he jerked her skirt up.

Would he really ravish her in her own home? In the warm little room she used as a sanctuary for a morning cup of tea and some introspection as she went through the daily post?

No.

All of a sudden she heard a crashing sound and Franklin groaned, his grip loosening. Then he went lax, his weight a stifling burden, his head lolling to the side. To her surprise Caroline found herself drenched in water and rose petals.

Annabel Reid’s face swam into view, concerned and grim, her blue eyes holding a murderous hint of outrage. She said succinctly, “Sorry for the mess, but I do hope I’ve killed him.”

 

Annabel felt no remorse as she stared down at the man who toppled to the floor as Caroline Wynn struggled to push him away. The other woman sat up shivering. To think Annabel had pondered her impromptu visit because the hour was a little early to drop in, but she had been anxious to thank someone she considered a newfound friend and share the news of her upcoming marriage.

She supposed, as she surveyed the broken shards of glass and water droplets on the floral carpet and the blood seeping from the gash on the man’s head, that walking in on what looked like a very shocking attack and bashing the villain would constitute an act of friendship.

So maybe her thanks were said, albeit in a rather violent way.

Lady Wynn was ghastly pale, her usually lovely face drawn into a ghostly mask. Stray damp strands of auburn hair were plastered to her slender neck, and her gown clung damply to her body, thanks to the impetuous impulse Annabel had to use a handy vase to whack her assailant with a robust blow.

“Are you all right?” Annabel plucked a handkerchief from her sleeve and handed it over. The square of lace was insufficient in size, but it was better than nothing.

“My lady!” The elderly butler who had answered the door looked aghast in the doorway. “His lordship, that vile blackguard . . . dear me. I would never have allowed him in if I had known. . . .”

“It’s hardly your fault, Norman.” Caroline shuddered and moved to sit on a less wet part of the sofa that was farther away from Franklin’s prostrate form. She dabbed at her face with Annabel’s offering. It was hard to tell if the wetness was from tears or the water to keep the roses fresh. She looked at Annabel with silver eyes that shimmered. “Thank you.”

“Not at all.”

Dewy lashes clumped together, Lady Wynn murmured, “No, I mean,
thank you
.”