Gallant Waif (24 page)

And she wanted more.

“I’m going to write to my grandmother asking her to take you into her house immediately,” Jack announced, entering the library where Kate was busy dusting books.

She whirled from her task. “But why?” she whispered, her eyes wide with distress.

He could see she’d been working hard; her hair was starting to fall out of its knot, she had a smudge of dust on her chin and a blur of beeswax over her right eyebrow. Lord, was there ever a chit so unsuited to a domestic occupation? She needed to marry a rich man, if only to keep her face clean. He tried to keep the amusement out of his eyes, forcing himself not to soften towards her.

“We can’t go on like this.”

“Like what?”

His eyes grew hard. “Like this morning and the evening before.”

She flushed and clutched the book she had been dusting to her chest. “Well, I do not wish to go to London to stay with your grandmother.”

“That’s beside the point. If you stay here, this will get out of hand.”

Kate’s eyes were fixed on him. “Will it?” she asked softly.

Jack swore under his breath and turned away. Dammit! Those big grey-green eyes made him lose all resolution. He had to make her understand once and for all.

“God deliver me from naive virgins!” he growled in frustration.

Kate stiffened, but he didn’t notice.

“You don’t realise the danger you’re in,” he said.

Oh, don’t I? Kate thought.

“Men have needs, Miss Farleigh, carnal needs. They are not like women. If the need is upon him, a man will turn to a woman to fulfil those needs. Do you understand me? I said
a
woman, any woman, whichever woman is available to fulfil those carnal needs.”

Kate bit her lip.

Jack cursed again. Dammit, he had no choice but to be as brutal as he could to her, to stop that soft glow that shone in her eyes every time they rested on him. He had no future to offer her. God’s truth, but he could not even dance with her, and if anyone was born to dance it was Kate Farleigh, thistledown maiden. He couldn’t allow her to bury herself in obscure poverty, especially since she had no idea of what she was missing.

She had never been to London, never danced until the wee small hours at a glittering ball in the arms of a succession of handsome blades, never attended the Opera, Covent Garden, Drury Lane, Almack’s. She had seen death, far too much of it, but never experienced the sort of life which London and his grandmother could offer her. She could have a splendid future; if brutal words were what it took to get her to London, then he would speak them.

“I am no exception. I may be a disfigured cripple—” Kate flinched at the raw self-hate in his voice ”—but I am still a man, with a man’s needs.” He paused to let his words sink in. “And it has been a long time since I had a woman, Kate.
A very long time.
And that is
what.
. .this is. That’s
all
it is. Do you understand me? I would never have touched you, never have kissed you, but I was drunk and it has been too long since I had a woman and I got carried away.” He turned away from her so he wouldn’t have to look at her face.

Kate stared at the cloth in her hand and slowly crumpled it. She began to polish the shelf nearest to her. He had to be
drunk
to wish to touch her? That was what he was telling her? She was
any
woman to him?
A mere available female?
The words were harsh, biting, but, she eventually realised, they hadn’t upset her as much as they should have.

Because, deep down, she didn’t believe him.

If it was an available female he wanted, then why hadn’t he bothered Millie or Florence? Or the barmaid at the tavern he frequented—from all accounts she was no better than she ought to be. No, whatever Jack Carstairs thought of her, it wasn’t as any available female. And it wasn’t the fault of his drinking either—all that did was
exacerbate
the problem.

“You will make the preparations necessary to go to London at the end of the week.” His words seemed to come from a long way away.

Kate stopped her mindless polishing. “No, I won’t,” she said over her shoulder. She had no intention of running the gauntlet of London society. Not while she had a choice. And besides, she had made a promise to his grandmother.

He was incredulous. “Did I hear you say no?”

“You did,” she answered quietly. “I have no intention of leaving.”

“Have you no sense, woman?” he growled. “
After what I just told you?
You intend to stay? And risk being ruined?”

Her lips twisted ironically and she folded the dustcloth into a hard little package. Could one be ruined twice? It was a moot point.

“Didn’t you hear what I said, you foolish chit?” He grabbed her shoulder and swung her around to face him. “You risk losing your virtue by staying here! What the devil is the matter with you?”

She wrenched herself out of his hard grasp and stood there, smoothing down her skirt like a bird who had just escaped a cat.

His eyes narrowed and his face hardened. “Perhaps that is your plan.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seduce me and try to trap me into marriage,” he said slowly.

“Seduce you?” she gasped indignantly.

“Isn’t that what has been happening here? No doubt my grandmother’s cunning claw is somewhere in the plot too.” He laughed harshly. “Yes, I’m sure it is. No doubt you two planned it nicely between you.”

“How dare you?”

He ignored her and continued. “Oh, God, what a fool I’ve been. It’s as plain as the nose on my face. My grandmother, concerned I may never marry, now that my betrothal to Julia is at an end, appears out of nowhere. She dumps poor little lost Kate on me, hoping I will conveniently scoop her up and make her mine, thus dealing with two problems at once. Ha!” He glared at her. “Only it won’t work, for I’m wise to your plot. You’ll not trap me so easily, Miss Farleigh; I have no intention of wedding you.”

“And I have absolutely
no
intention of wedding you either, Mr Carstairs!” Kate’s temper had her firmly in its grip by now. “I would never,
ever
stoop to such a shabby plot and you have
a.
. .a colossal impertinence suggesting such a thing. It’s utterly preposterous and I demand an apology at once—for me and for your grandmother too, for I am sure she would never scheme so sordidly!”

“Not sordidly, I agree; incessantly is a far better word.”

Kate ignored his interjection. “And how dare you accuse me of trying to seduce you? It is
you
who have been grabbing and manhandling me, ever since I got here, plaguing me continually, when all I have tried to do is to get this house in order,” she finished virtuously, if inaccurately.

“Oh, so I’ve been plaguing and manhandling you, have I? And who was it who accosted me in my room in the middle of the night?”

Kate stamped her foot. “I did no such thing!
How dare you even suggest it?”

“The upstairs parlour, then.
And you came slinking in, knowing I was three sheets to the wind, and proceeded to seduce me.”

“I did not slink! I never slink!” Kate spat. “And you were not ‘three sheets to the wind’, as you so poetically put it, you were
drunk!
A sot! And if you imagine I was trying to seduce you by removing that poison you were swilling, then you have a very odd idea of what is seductive and no wonder this Julia, whoever she was, jilted you!”

“Leave her out of this,” he snarled.

“Gladly.”
Kate tossed her head, wishing she knew more about his erstwhile fiancee.

“And these so-called
manhandling habits
you apparently object to so much—I haven’t exactly noticed you valiantly resisting them. And I seem to recall myself calling a halt to proceedings each time, not you.”

Kate, blushing furiously, could think of no adequate reply. Of course she hadn’t called a halt to his embraces. He knew perfectly well that his kisses left her with about as much resolution as a blancmange, leaving her with no desire to call a halt to anything. But
how.
. .how
scurrilous
of him to taunt her with it. She stood there glowering helplessly.

A slight, knowing smile appeared on his face.

“Oh, you are so infuriating!” she snapped. “For your information, I have
no
intention of marrying. Not you! Not anyone! Not ever!”

“Rubbish!”

“It is not rubbish, it happens to be true.”

He watched her from under thunderous black brows. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard her refer to this nonsense. He could no more imagine Kate Farleigh going through life as a lonely spinster than he could fly.

“And why not, Miss Farleigh?
I have heard you assert it, but you have yet to offer one convincing reason. I know what women want—” Jack could not keep the sneer out of his voice ”—wealth, a fine home, position, admiration and some poor besotted sap to hand it to them on a platter. There isn’t a woman born who doesn’t scheme after that.”

Kate winced at his cynical view of marriage. Was he speaking from personal experience? Someone had hurt him; she could see that clearly. Julia? Kate couldn’t speak for all women, of course, but, for
herself
, none of those things mattered—only love. But Henri had stolen Kate’s right to be respected; without respect, there could be no love. So she could not marry. Lisbon had taught her that.
Lisbon and Harry, her betrothed.

“You are wrong about most women, but I can see you will not listen. All I can do is repeat that I have no intention of marrying. As for my reasons, they are very personal and private. Your grandmother knows and that is why she did not press me to accompany her back to London, why she found me this temporary position as your housekeeper instead.”

He snorted.
“Balderdash!
My grandmother only offered you this position because you are too blasted stubborn to know what is good for you. This position was nothing but a temporary sop to your pride. She has every intention of introducing you to society. There is no reason on earth why you cannot marry some rich, respectable fool.”

He stared down at her, his eyes hard and glittering, his mouth compressed with anger. “You just have to get yourself out of my hair and up to London, flutter those long eyelashes at whichever gentleman meets your requirements, murmur softly in his ear in that smoky soft voice, smile and swish that delectable little body in front of him. Before the poor fool can say ‘boo’ you will be walking up the aisle on his arm and, no doubt, within a year or two you will be dandling his heir damply on your knee.”

His long hard fingers bit into her shoulders and he shook her as he spoke. Kate’s mouth quivered with anguish at his unconscious cruelty. To hear the impossible, put into words like that, painting such a cosy, utterly unattainable picture…

Jack could feel every breath entering and leaving her body, smell the sweet clean fragrance of rosemary in her hair. She quivered under his hands and he took a long, rasping breath.

“And if he proves a touch reluctant in popping the question, then just you look at him like that and the poor idiot won’t be able to help
himself
.” With a groan he planted his mouth on hers and she was swept again into the maelstrom of emotion that was becoming so dear and so wondrously familiar to her.

Eventually he released her mouth and stood looming over her, breathing hard. Kate, her senses still reeling under the impact of his embrace, clutched his shoulders and arms, leaning against his warm, heaving chest for support.

Shakily she gathered together the tattered remains of her self-control and pushed against the powerful chest and arms that enclosed her.

Instantly he released her and stepped back. Kate was conscious of a feeling of isolation so intense that it threatened to shatter her resolution. She wanted to lean back into that hard, wonderful embrace again, but she could not. She retreated to the other side of the room and stood there, gathering her composure.