Her Master's Touch (9 page)

"From me," Damon replied.

Eliza laughed lightly. "And do you plan to
keep me on as your laundry maid and pay me in gowns?" she asked,
her voice playful, though her heart was beating frantically with
the thought of what she had to do next.

"Not as my laundry maid," Damon said. "As my
mistress."

"Your mistress?" His proposal caught Eliza up
short, pointing out her station in life. A half-blood, someone to
become a man's mistress, never his wife. Then she realized it
didn’t matter. Soon she’d be away from Lord Damon Ravencroft and
the effect he had on her.

Damon peered down at her. “Why so serious,
gypsy girl? Surely you like the idea of gowns and jewels and silk
against your skin? I’d have you dressed like a queen and riding in
a fine coach, and all you’d have to do is warm my bed."

Eliza put her hands on his chest. “I’ll think
on it and let you know tomorrow,” she said, knowing there would be
no tomorrow for them. Only the next few minutes. Nothing more.

Damon planted a kiss beneath her ear, and
said, “Is it so hard for you to choose between working in a wash
house, or wearing silk gowns and sleeping in my bed?”

Eliza tipped her head back, allowing him
access to her throat. “I’ve never been a man’s mistress before…
umm," she moaned, as his lips moved down the column of her throat.
"Perhaps I would not meet your expectations."

"You already have. You're everything I want
in my bed." Damon kissed her chin and her jaw and teased her lips
apart, caressing her tongue with his, sucking it deeply into his
mouth and allowing her to slowly retrieve it before sucking it into
his mouth again in a pre-mating ritual as old as time. As the kiss
deepened, his hands began to seek those places that gave her
pleasure, until she was almost overcome by the need that was
building again.

But she would not be distracted. Not this
time.

While the kiss deepened, she glided her hands
up his back and threaded her fingers into his hair, then moved her
palms down his sides and up his back again, then every so slowly
down his sides, and into his pocket, where her hand closed around a
smooth round object the size of a hen's egg. Heart thumping,
adrenaline rushing through her, she whispered against his ear, “Yes
I’ll be your mistress,” while feeling a flush of remorse that she
would never know the delights his intimate caresses promised.
Although she'd been distracted by his kiss and the path of his
hands, she'd obtained her objective.

Anxious to flee before he discovered the opal
missing, she gave him a kiss, and said, "Goodnight, my lord. Until
tomorrow then..." And turned left the room.

The opal clutched in her hand, she scurried
down the hallway and left the house. Crouching low and staying in
the moonlit shadows, she crept toward the gates where she could see
Januz's shadowy figure. But as she approached, she caught sight of
something laying in the path... A body. She recognized at once
Damon's gateman, with her ivory-handled knife in his heart. She'd
found her knife missing from the sheath on her leg when she'd
changed into the black dress. Now she knew where she'd lost it. In
the spot where she lay with Damon, and where Januz had found her.
She reached for the knife, but Januz grabbed her arm, dragging her
to where the horse stood waiting. "Let me go," she cried.

Januz tightened his grip on her arm. "They
find gateman with ivory-handled knife in heart... knife belonging
to gypsy girl who steal opal. You in big trouble,
posh-rat
."

Eliza looked toward the dead gateman. Damon
would recognize the knife as hers and blame her for the murder of
his gateman, as well as for stealing his opal. And she had been
betrayed by gypsies who used her to recover their talisman, yet had
no intention of allowing her to return to the tribe. "The opal,"
Januz said. "I take it.
Now!
"

"No!"
Eliza tightened her fist.

Januz grabbed her wrist. Iron-like fingers
pried her hand open and he took the opal.

From the direction of the house came excited
voices. With no time to recapture the opal or retrieve her
ivory-handled knife, Eliza launched herself onto the horse, kicked
it in the flanks, and sent the animal racing down the moonlit
road…

London, England – Two Years Later

Lord William Sheffield offered his hand to
the elegantly-clad gentleman in the silk brocade tunic, fitted
black breeches, and gold silk turban. “Prince Rao Singh, I
presume,” he said, clasping the man’s hand while patting him on the
shoulder. “Welcome to London, my friend. You’re looking well. I
trust your ocean crossing was uneventful?”

Damon let out a short guffaw. “As uneventful
as it could be for a Rajput prince from the Punjab." He stroked his
moustache and smoothed his neatly-cropped beard. "It seems the
ladies have a fondness for whiskered princes garbed like harem
dancers. I look forward to my return voyage when I can be my
depraved self again.”

Lord Sheffield smiled in amusement. “The
moustache and whiskers do you justice, Damon. They hide your
perennial scowl.”

Damon lifted a cynical brow. “The scowl will
go, along with the bloody whiskers and the dandified Indian garb,
when I clear my name and claim my birthright.”

“And you expect to accomplish that while here
in London?” Lord Sheffield asked.

“I intend to get the process started, with
your generous help," Damon replied. "And I will be forever indebted
to you, William.

“Well, I wish you luck, my friend. It’s been
a long time coming," Lord Sheffield said. "I only hope my daughter
will receive you well. She’s been away at finishing school so she
knows nothing about you or your quest while here in London, and
we’ll leave it at that. How much time can you spare for
courting?”

“A few days at most,” Damon said. “But
judging from the reaction of the ladies aboard ship, a prince from
the Punjab has an edge over London’s fops and dandies, and
definitely over Lord Damon Ravencroft, if my infamous name followed
me from India.”

“If it did, Elizabeth will have my assurance
that Lord Ravencroft is a man of honor. You are still a man of
honor aren’t you, Damon?”

“Where your daughter is concerned, I give you
my word, William. But when do you intend to tell her who Prince Rao
Singh really is?”

“Only when necessary," Lord Sheffield
replied. "All females like to talk nineteen to the dozen, and it
wouldn’t do for word to get out that Lord Damon Carlisle is roaming
around on British soil, at least not until your solicitor has built
a solid case for you.”

“I’m glad you see it that way," Damon said.
"My half-brother had powerful friends who, even after his death,
wouldn’t hesitate to tamper with documents in order to prove I’m
not rightful heir to Westwendham."

“Well," Lord Sheffield said, "if Elizabeth
accepts your hand, this will be behind you in the near future.”

“I hope so," Damon replied. "And I look
forward to meeting Elizabeth.”

“I think you’ll find her not only a woman of
rare and exotic beauty, but poised and gracious as well, now that
she has completed finishing school." Lord Sheffield eyed Damon with
an air of uncertainty. "However, I do need to explain the
circumstances leading to her flight to India," he said, in a
guarded tone. "In our correspondence I touched only lightly on it.
I didn’t want to scare you off before speaking directly to
you.”

Damon laughed. “You should know by now,
William, that I don’t scare easily.”

“I know, but it would be dishonest of me to
withhold from you Elizabeth’s motives for leaving school, as she
did, the way she did.”

Damon looked at Lord Sheffield with interest.
“Go ahead. Fill me in.”

Lord Sheffield steepled his fingers, drew in
a slow breath, and said, “When Elizabeth was eight, and we were
living at
Shanti Bhavan
, her mother did something that was
so beyond the pale, I led Elizabeth to believe she had died. I also
thought it best for Elizabeth to leave India, so I sent her to
boarding school in London. But, when she was fourteen, her mother
learned of Elizabeth’s whereabouts and wrote to her. When Elizabeth
found out that her mother was alive and living in Calcutta, she was
so angry with me that she left school, cropped her hair, signed
onto a steamer as a busboy in the galley, and made her way to
India, leaving me to assume that she’d been kidnapped from school.
She didn’t contact me for several years. But when she did, I
arranged passage for her return. She’s a very resourceful young
woman, Damon, and not disobedient under normal circumstances. I’m
sure you’d have no trouble with her as a wife.”

Damon shrugged. “No trouble at all. Every man
wants a poised, gracious, rare and exotic run-away for a wife.”
Seeing the worry in his friend’s eyes, Damon smiled and added,
“Actually, William, she sounds fascinating.”

Lord Sheffield's brows gathered in a deep
frown. “I don’t know whether fascinating is the right word to
describe Elizabeth," he said, his thumb and index finger stroking
his chin. "Maybe impulsive, though she’s not impulsive as a matter
of course, only at rare times and under extreme circumstances.”

“I suppose that’s understandable,” Damon
said.

Lord Sheffield smiled. “I’m relieved you feel
that way. It’s not been easy finding a match for Elizabeth. I would
not delve into her dubious behavior with any of her suitors, unless
of course, they asked for her hand, in which case I'd have to tell
them. I’m relieved you’re still open to the idea of taking
Elizabeth as a wife. I had faith you would be, which is why I wrote
to you about her. I’m glad it coincided with your plans to clear
your name. I’m just sorry I cannot offer you my youngest daughter,
Helen. She’s much more settled than Elizabeth. But I have to marry
my eldest first. You do understand?”

“I do indeed," Damon replied. "I’m thankful
you’d entrust either of your daughters to me. And you’re very
generous with the dowry. It should more than cover the expenses
needed to clear my name. And your offer to intercede in my behalf
is greatly appreciated.”

“That’s because I know you are a man of honor
who would be good to my daughter," Lord Sheffield said. "But
there’s one thing more about Elizabeth.”

Damon gave Lord Sheffield a wry smile. “I’m
beginning to think there’s a lot more to this woman than you’re
revealing, which I suppose adds to her mystique. Go ahead.”

“Well, she also tends to be a bit more
outspoken than a woman should be.”

Damon pondered another rare and exotic beauty
who was too outspoken—a gypsy wench who absconded with his opal.
Had it not been for the chit, he'd long since have returned to
England, but not in the guise of an Indian prince. Nor would he
have to resort to an arranged marriage and a woman’s dowry to clear
his name.

The thought that he'd allowed a piece of
gypsy fluff to dupe him not only once, but twice, still grated.
Even while the memory of her passionate kisses and eager body
clinging to him refused to let go. “I don’t have a problem with
outspoken women,” he said. “And your daughter sounds intriguing. In
the short time I’ve been in London, rubbing shoulders at the clubs
while trying to ferret out information about my enemies, I’ve heard
nothing but talk about the beautiful and mysterious Lady Elizabeth
Sheffield who appeared on the London scene from out of nowhere. If
she’s outspoken as well, I can handle that.”

“Good," Lord Sheffield said, "because it had
me worried. She undoubtedly picked up the unladylike behavior while
in India, though finishing school seems to have curbed that
tendency. But since she tends to be a headstrong young woman, and I
know you to be an honorable man, I give you permission to rein her
in and modify her behavior as you see fit, though never with
physical force, but with firmness and understanding.”

Damon leaned forward, and said, “I give you
my word, William, I would never lay a cruel hand on your daughter.
In any event, I’m glad she’s finally returned to you.”

“Yes, so am I," Lord Sheffield said, "though
I regret to say, I could learn nothing about the family she claims
to have lived with while in India. She’s determined to put that
part of her life behind, and I could get nothing out of her before
she left for finishing school. I leave it to you to ferret out that
information, if it’s important for you to know.”

“It’s not," Damon assured him. "And maybe
it’s best left at that. If she’s happy with her life now, you
should feel blessed. She’s returned to you, and that’s what’s
important.”

“Yes, I suppose," Lord Sheffield said, in a
wistful voice. "And I’m sorry you won’t have a chance to meet her
before her coming out ball, but she, along with my wife and younger
daughter and everyone else in the household are busy with
preparations, so it won’t be possible.”

“I understand. Nor can I take time," Damon
said. "I have a lot to achieve in a short stay. If I am here too
long, London’s bobbies will start asking questions about Prince Rao
Singh and learn he doesn’t exist. In any event, I look forward to
meeting Elizabeth at the ball. And I’ll do my best to make my way
to the top of her list of suitors.”

Lord Sheffield rapped Damon on the shoulder.
“Good luck, my friend. If anyone can capture her willful heart it
would be you.

***

Elizabeth spun around in her white satin ball
gown, sending the wide skirt with its numerous petticoats billowing
out. “I feel like a giant bell,” she said, eyeing the gown with its
puffs and satin ribbons and overlay of numerous tulle flounces.

“But you look like a princess,” Cora
Sheffield replied, stepping back to admire her step-daughter. “You
will be
the
sensation of the season.”