Lady Rogue (29 page)

Chapter Forty

The fire in the great hearth leaped and sparked, warding off the chill of the night.  By the light of the Argand lamp, Dawn studied the documents John Barrister had given her, wishing she could really understand the details.  There were so many  words that they blurred before her eyes
. Still, everything seemed to be in order. It made Robbie her ward and requested a retrial. 
How strange
, she thought
, to be named as his guardian
, and yet the lawyer had counseled her to this action.  Well, to get Robbie out of that terrible place she would have done anything, even bargain with the devil himself if necessary. Dipping a pen into the ink bottle, she hastily scrawled her name to the papers spread out on the drawing room table, using the elaborate penmanship Margaret Pembrooke had insisted upon.

"We need to find witnesses who will testify to the young man's good character," the lawyer had said, cocking a brow.  "Upstanding men of consequence."  Dawn wondered just who that could be, then remembered what Black John had always said, th
at enough money could make any bloke testify that a sheep was a cow.  Well, if she had to resort to bribery to free her brother, she  gladly would.

It was quiet in the large house.  She had granted Douglass the night off
. Agnes had gone to bed early, and the others of the household had retired to their own quarters, thus Dawn was startled by the loud tapping at the door.  Glancing at the mantle clock, she saw that it was nine o'clock.  Rather late for a visitor.  Perhaps it was John Barrister, anxious to retrieve his documents so that he could be about his work first thing in the morning.

Dawn waited for just a moment
, but when the insistent knocking began again she went to the door.  To her surprise she found Garrick standing there, leaning against the doorframe.  "Garrick!"  The faint hint of brandy teased her nostrils as she stepped closer.

"Surprised to see me?"  There
was a sharp edge to his voice, and something in his smile that chilled her.

"P
leasantly surprised," she whispered, taking a step backwards. Something was wrong, she knew it immediately.  

"But not enough so to invite me in?"  There was a reckless glitter in the blue eyes staring back at her.  "Shame, shame, shame.  What is wrong with your manners?  A
proper
  young lady  like you?"  His hair fell forward across his forehead and into his eyes. Usually meticulously groomed, he looked shockingly disheveled.  His cravat was missing and his shirt was open down the front, revealing the strength of his neck and a tuft of hair on his chest.               

"I'm sorry.  Please, come in.  You are always welcome."  Suppressing her disqu
iet, she moved out of the way.

He pushed past her with a predatory grace.  Slowly, insolently his eyes moved over her as he shut the door behind them.  Walking towards her, he reached out and  touched the hair falling at her temples, then closed his fingers in a fist.  She was so very lovely.  Looking at her now it was hard to believe she had led
a life of crime and debauchery. 

Against his will,
he let his eyes stray over her, lingering with grim appreciation on the slim column of her neck and the full, tempting line of her breasts. He remembered the heat and warmth of her skin,   the taste of her, her softness, and an intense, nearly painful surge of desire swept over him.  Wanton or not he had to have her.  He was caught in her silken web.

"You reall
y are a very beautiful woman."

"Thank you."  She was confused by his tone.  He sounded angry and she could not fat
hom why.  "Garrick.......?"

"Beautiful.........."   As he spoke his lips barely moved
, and she could see that his jaw was clenched.  The firelight cast shadows across his face as he walked towards her.

"Garrick!"  This was not the man who had charmed her at the theatre and won her heart.  There was no gentleness in his face n
ow.  This man was a stranger, unpredictable and dangerous.  "You've been drinking!" she scolded. 

"Astute observation, my dear.   But then
, no doubt you've seen enough men in their cups. Unfortunately I'm not drunk.  Or perhaps there is just not enough brandy in this whole world to push you out of my blood."  His hand shot out at her and tried to grab her arm, but she scurried around the end of the table, avoiding him.

"Garrick, please leave."  Something was wrong.  Very, very wrong.    She was unnerved by the unyielding look in his eyes.  "Come back tomorrow and we'll prete
nd this never happened."

"Pretend?  Ah, yes.  You are an expert at that, are you not?"  This time when he reached for her she couldn't evade his hands.  Drawing her towards him he held her unmercifully, clasping her chin in his rough hand and turning her face toward the light.  "Who are you?" he asked suddenly.  "For I know
that Landon is not your name."

Her gaze flew to his, her face paled.  "W
hat do you mean?"

"There are no ladies of your age
in all of Norfolk." His smile was cynical, though he let her go. "Don't play act anymore. I know you for what you are."

"All right.  My name is not Landon.  It's Leighton
."

"Leighton?"  She had a very expressive face.  Her eyes were wide like a hunted fawn's, her mouth
tight and quivering.  He almost felt sorry for her until he remembered that night at the quay.  "Well, whatever your name is you are a deceiving little bitch!  Lovely but conniving."

She nearly strangled on the reply that sprang to her lips. Without even thinking she slapped him hard
.  The sound of her palm striking his cheek reverberated through the room like a shot.  An ominous silence fell as they stared at each other for a long aching moment.

Oh
, what had she done?  How had it all come to this, she thought.  Her pulse beat violently at her throat as she said, "I don't know what you have learned or why you are so angry, but I will tell you the truth."

"The truth?  I doubt you  even know how.  You, my dear are a
liar, a thief and a trollop!"

"No!"  She clung to the table for support.  How was it possible her worl
d could so suddenly crumble around her?  He hated her now. She could see it in his eyes, and it made her reel with pain.  "I was a thief once, yes.  My parents died when I was eight years old and I was condemned to the streets.  My brother and I were taken in by a man named Black John Dunn who trained us to be thieves."

"So......
a measure of the truth at last.  No lady at all, but a pickpocket!”  He folded his arms across his chest and stood glaring.

"Yes, a thief." His tone angered her.  He was so self-righteous, he who had never known what it was to miss a his dinner.  "It was either that or starve.  Certainly the men and women of 
your
class showed me no pity.  Not one crust of bread, nor even a measure of kindness.  I might have been a bug for all they cared."  She took two deep breaths, trying to regain her poise.  "Black John at least saw to it that we did not go hungry at night, albeit there was a price.  I was taught to steal handkerchiefs in his nursery of crime.  Soon it was the only life I knew."

"That and whoring.....!"

"No!"  How she hated the word and what it implied.  "I never sold my body.  I've never let any man touch me in that way.  Never!"

Her answer filled him with contempt.  "Then let me refresh your memory.  A dark night at the docks.  A soiled white dress.  A hat with a broken feather."  The scene flashed before his eyes so vividly it was as if he were reliving it.  "You sauntered up to me with your seductive invitation, hands on hips, mouth pouting.  Am I to believe you merely wanted to know the time?"  He grasped her by the wrist, pulling her face to within inches o
f his.

An anguished sob tore from he
r throat.  So he remembered and now thought the worst.  "It was a ploy.  Rob and Black John coerced me into it, much to my regret.  I was to play the trull so they could rob you."  Her admission was so damning that she winced, regretting with every beat of her heart that she had ever consented to the deed.  Because of that night Robbie was within Newgate and her life on the brink of ruin.

"Rob me."  He threw back his head and laughed bitterly.  "Ah yes, I remember that all too well.  My head throbbed painfully for weeks.  A charming little career you established for yourself.  Just
see where it has taken you."  With a show of disgust he released her arm and stepped back.  "Though I can't for the life of me understand how you could have fooled Margaret Pembrooke even for a moment."

"I didn't.  She knew what I was and showed me kindness.  She taught me how to talk
and walk, helped me escape my mean surroundings.  She gave me hope and love."

"And was rewarded with treacher
y."

"No!  Never that.  She was my friend.  I would give anything in this world to
have her back again but....."

"Liar!  How can
you expect me to believe you?"

"It's the truth...."

A tight ball of pain coiled within Garrick's chest as he caught the expression in her eyes.   He wanted to take the words back, give her a chance to explain, but stubborness overcame his reason.  She had made a total fool of him with her pretense of virtue.  He wanted to punish her. He thought of her lying naked in his arms and once again desire engulfed him.  His eyes darkened with passion, his full mouth took on a cruel, sensual curve.  He wanted her and could think of no reason why he shouldn't slake his passion. Now.  Tonight!

With
that thought, he closed  his hands painfully around her shoulders.  She was jerked unceremoniously up against the hardness of his chest as his  mouth descended, taking hers with a savage intensity. He kissed her like a man with a fierce, insatiable hunger to appease. It was as if he wanted to hurt her, wanted to cause her pain and yet she didn't fight him. The touch of his mouth, brutal as it was, evoked a fierce answering hunger within her.  Love was a healing thing.  Perhaps she could prove to him that what she felt for him was real.  She knew she could prove to him she wasn't a whore.  Always she had guarded her virtue most vehemently, despite her circumstances.  Now she would give it up to him.

His lips were everywhere--
her cheeks, her earlobes, her neck and back to her mouth again, his tongue plunging deeply, insistently between her lips.   Her hands moved restlessly over his chest, up to entangle her fingers in his thick brown hair.  His hands answered her caress, sliding down her body. Then he was sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her towards the stairs.
             

Chapter Forty-One

Moonlight streamed through the open curtains, casting eerie shadows on the wall as Garrick made his way up the stairs with his beautiful bun
dle. Kicking open the door to Margaret Pembrooke’s chamber, he made his way to the bed with Dawn in his arms.

"A woman like you doesn't understand gentleness.  But you will understand this."  His mouth was hungry as it took hers, plundering,
urgent, as he explored her mouth's sweetness. 

The pressure of the kiss  should have hurt her but it didn't.  Instead it drained her very soul,
then poured it back again, filling her to overflowing.  Despite his anger that kiss proved to her that he cared.  It was not lust alone that fueled him, no matter what he might say to the contrary.

So thinking she returned his
kiss, her defenses devastated by her own craving.  There was nothing in the world for her but his mouth.  She surrendered to him completely without even a token resistance, wishing the kiss could go on forever.  If he wanted to punish her  he'd chosen the wrong penalty.  Twining her hands around his neck, she clutched him to her, pressing her body eagerly against his chest.  She could feel the heat and strength and growing desire of him with every breath.  She loved him and he wanted her.

Garrick pulled his mouth away, looking deep into her eyes.  She looked artless and young
, but he must remember that she was a woman as false as Jezebel.  No matter what happened tonight, he must not allow himself to forget.  With a ruthless intensity he wanted to teach her a lesson she would never forget.  She was a greedy little strumpet who had lied to him, baited him into a trap, and Lord knew what else.

His voice was low, with a strange throaty quality to it. "The moment of truth is at hand, my dear," he said with a wry smile.
Depositing her unceremoniously on the huge bed, he slid down beside her.  He reached for her and she found herself imprisoned on the feather mattress.  She heard the soft rhythm of his breath as he spread her hair in a dark cloak about her shoulders.

"Be
autiful.  So bloody lovely." 

With questing fingers he unfastened her gown and pulled the material away from her shoulders. She could feel his hands forcing her dress lower, felt the warmth of his fingers as they touched and caressed.  She couldn't bring herself to utter a protest, even when he pinched th
e peaks of her breasts.  

"Aren't you going to fight for your
virtue
?" he asked mockingly.

"I'm not going to fight you at all.  I love you, Garrick.  I alwa
ys have, believe that or not."

"Love?  Love!"  The pain of his mother's rejection and her calculating heartlessness was like an ugly scar on his emotions, b
uried deep within him.  He  meant to hurt her as he slid his hands beneath her bodice to close over one temptingly full breast.  Dawn moaned as she felt his palm cup her sensitive flesh, and that sound took away all his resolve. 

"I do love you!"

Closing her eyes she refused to think of anything that might bring her back to reality.  He was the man she loved.  Her body had recognized that from the very first moment she had laid eyes on him.  Garrick, her Garrick.  Her angel gentleman.  She spent so many nights dreaming that he would make love to her that she wouldn't let his anger spoil it now.  Somehow she'd make him understand.  She had to.

"Garrick......"  H
er voice was husky as she spoke his name against his mouth.  As his hands outlined the swell of her breasts, she sank into the softness of the feather mattress.  She was aware vaguely of where she was. Mrs. Pembrooke's room.    The velvet coverlet beneath her was warm and soft.  It was red, the color of passion, the old woman's favorite color, she thought fleetingly.  She was aware only of Garrick.

"So much wasted time," he murmured. 
"But now I'll make up  for it." His head  was bent low, his tongue curling around the tips of her breast, suckling gently.  She gave a breathless murmur of surprise, and her body  flamed with desire. She ached to be naked against him.  Did that make her a wanton?  Then so be it.

Garrick breathed deeply, savoring the violent scent of her perfume.  The enticing fragrance invaded his flaring nostrils, engulfing him.   Bloody damn!  What had she done to him?  He had meant only to take her, as he might any
Soho strumpet, and yet from the moment he had walked through that door, he had been swept away by something stronger than mere lust, deeper by far than just desire. He swore furiously to himself that he didn't love her but knew that to be a lie, and it was a galling admission.

Fool that he was
, he could not make his brain connect with his heart.  He didn't care who or what she was, he only knew that whenever he was with her, it seemed as if she had been made for him.  Even now her gentle curves fit into the length of his hard, muscular body.  His flesh felt as though it were on fire whenever it pressed against her yielding softness. 

"Dawn......"  Her name was a prayer on his lips.  She was the answer to his loneliness and yet  she was  his torment. 
She's a woman, just like your mother
, he thought.  But just touching her made him want to forget.

Raising himself up on his elbow
, he looked down at her and at that moment he knew he'd put his heart and soul in pawn.  Removing his shirt, he pressed against her bare bosom,  shivering as the sensation sent a flash of quicksilver through his veins.             

There was no fire on the hearth, yet
it was hot in the room. Slowly, leisurely Garrick stripped Dawn's garments away, like the petals of a flower.  His fingers lingered as they wandered down her stomach to explore the texture of her skin.  Like velvet.   He sought the indention of  her navel,  then  moved lower to tangle  his fingers in the soft wisps of hair that joined at her legs.   Moving back, he let his eyes enjoy what his hands had set free.

"Do you have any idea how much I want you?  Do you?" he breathed.  Then he laughed.  "Of course you do.  That's the point in being so beautiful, isn't it.  To tempt men beyond endurance.  Well, you've won."  Swearing softly he took her hand and pressed it to the firm flesh of his arousal.  She felt the throbbing strenth of him as her eyes gazed into his. Then
he bent to kiss her, keeping her mouth captive for what seemed an eternity.

The warmth and heat of his lips
, the thought of her fingers touching that private part of him, sent a sweet ache flaring through Dawn's whole body.  Growing bold, she allowed her hands to explore, to delight at the touch of the  firm flesh that covered his ribs, the broad shoulders, the muscles of his arms, the lean length of his back. He so was perfectly formed.  Beautiful for a man.  With a soft sigh her fingers curled in the thick, springy hair at that furred his chest.  Her fingers lightly circled in imitation of what he was doing to her.

"Blessed Saints!"  Oh but she knew her
trade well, he thought sourly.

Feeling encumbered by his
remaining clothes, Garrick pulled them off and flung them aside.  Their bodies touched in breathtaking intimacy, and yet he took his time, lost in this world of sensual delight.  She was in his arms and in bed beside him.  It was where she belonged.  She was his, he would never let her go.  Not now.

"Dawn!  Dawn!" 

They lay together kissing, touching, rolling over and over on the soft bed.   His hands were doing wondrous things to her, making her writhe and groan with pleasure.  Every inch of her body caught fire as passion carried them into wild oblivion. He moved against her, sending waves of pleasure exploding along every nerve in her body.  The swollen length of him brushed across her thigh.  Then he was covering her, his manhood probing at the entrance of her secret core.

"You'll see.  I'm not what yo
u think......" she whispered.             

His kisses stopped any  further words she might have uttered.  She felt his maleness at the fragile entry way to her womanhood
, then he pierced that delicate membrane with a sudden thrust.  For one brief moment there was pain, but then Dawn's passion rallied.  So this was why Taddie and the others cried out in the night.  Wanting to relish this new feeling, she pushed upward.

"By
God!" Only when he entered her did Garrick realize the truth.   It couldn't be.  A virgin?  This woman who had tried to seduce him on the docks was  a virgin!  He had not believed her.  Now too late he learned  she had spoken the truth.  But he could not pull away.  She was so warm, so tight around him that he closed his eyes with agonized pleasure.

Bu
rying his length deeply within her, he moved with infinite care, not wanting to hurt her, wanting instead to initiate her fully into the depths of passion.  And love.  Yes, love, for that was what he felt. Like the currents of the sea that surrounded England, his body drew hers.

Tightening her thighs around his waist, Dawn arched up to him with sensual urgency. She was melting inside, merging with h
im into a single being.  His lovemaking was like nothing she could ever have imagined. It filled her, flooded her.  Clinging to him, she called out his name.

Garrick groaned as he felt the exquisite sensation of her warm flesh sheathing the long length of him.  He
wanted it never to end, wanted no suspicion  to intrude on the rapture of the moment. She was silken fire beneath him.  A fragile flower, blossoming at his touch. A tenderness welled within him that banished bitterness to the darkest recesses of his mind, as they were both borne up into the sweet blinding light of love’s fulfillment.