Samantha James (5 page)

“And just where did you intend to go?”

She paused, but only for a moment. “I don’t know—anywhere!—as long as it was far, far from here!”

Gabriel surveyed her over the rim of the glass. He wondered that he had even asked, for her bitter words to Black Jack had made her plight quite clear. Nor did he doubt that every word was true. His gaze swept over her ragged gown, the faded pouch she clutched so desperately still, to settle at last upon the cracked, dry skin of her hands.

Cassie flushed when she saw where his gaze dwelled. She swallowed, gathering her courage around her like a cloak. “I cannot stay here any longer.” Her tone was low but fervent. “I
will
not. So if you intend to take me to the constable, just—just do it and be done with it.”

Gabriel was unwillingly impressed. The girl had spirit—and courage as well. Oh, he knew she was terrified. He hadn’t missed the desperation in her eyes. She was, he admitted, a worthy adversary. One perhaps even worthy of standing up against his father. Indeed, he wondered what his father would think of this upstart little Yank…

From out of nowhere, there was an echo in his mind, the words Christopher had spoken only last night.

No farmer’s wife, this one, eh? No doubt she could aim far higher…

Slowly he lowered the glass from his lips. He stared at her intently, as if seeing her for the first time.

The girl was a thief. Fiery and unruly. Low-born and uncivilized…

An uncivilized
Yankee
.

It came to him then…an idea spawned by years of neglect, and a ragtag but beautiful wench.

Sweet heaven, that was it…

He was across the floor in an instant. Catching her by the arms, he pulled her from her perch at the end of the bed. He grabbed her chin and turned her face up for his inspection.

His gaze roved intently over her features. “How old are you, girl?”

When she said nothing, his hands fell to her shoulders. “Answer me, girl,” he said sharply. “How old are you?”

Cassie wet her lips. “Eighteen, I believe,” she said faintly. “Though I cannot be sure…”

“Nell said your mother deserted you when you were just a child. Have you no other relatives?”

Her eyes, trained on his face, were huge. Wordlessly, she shook her head.

“What if I told you I could rescue you? Save you from this wretched drudgery? What if I told you I could take you far, far away?”

She blinked. “Wh-where?”

“All the way across the sea—to England. Perhaps to Paris someday. Yes, you would like Paris, I think.” He traced the back of his knuckle along the hollow of her throat. “I could give you jewels. Furs. How long since you’ve had a new dress, Yank? I could make certain you have a new dress for every day of the year.”

Cassie shook her head slightly as if to clear it. “I-I cannot think why you should want to!” she blurted.

Gabriel smiled tightly. Oh, it wasn’t out of the goodness of his heart, for indeed he wondered if he possessed such a thing. No, it had far less to do with generosity…and far more to do with revenge. And what sweet revenge it would be…

His father wanted him to marry. By God, so he would.

Cassie tensed visibly. “I-I thought you meant to punish me,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Set your mind at ease, girl. I’ve no intention of turning you over to the constable—or to Black Jack.”

“Sir, are you…unwell?” Cassie muttered.

He gave a short, harsh burst of laughter. “Indeed I’ve never been better.” He paused. “So what do you say, Yank? You left this place this morning with little thought for your destination. I offer you the chance to see England—the entire continent. You have my word, you’ll never again have to scrub floors.”

Cassie bit her lip. “Such things do not come free,” she said slowly. “And there is nothing I can give you in return…” He watched as deep color suffused her cheeks. “Dear lord,” she gasped. “Never say you expect me to be your—your mistress—”

A grim smile lurked on his lips. “’Tis not a mistress I want, Yank…but a wife.”

A
wife
.

Cassie’s mind was racing. Oh, but the man was mad. Surely it was so! Or was it some monstrous jest? Or perhaps…sweet Lord, perhaps
she
was the one who was mad…

She could not tear her gaze from him. His posture exuded utter ease. But it was his eyes that chained her endlessly, for she knew she did not imagine the cold glitter of calculation in those strange silvery depths.

No, she was not mad. Nor was he.

Slowly she began to back away. She was scarcely aware when the mattress bumped the back of her knees. Dazedly she sank onto the rumpled covers, the powers of speech beyond her.

And still he smiled—a mocking smile. A taunting smile. A smile she could not fully comprehend…

At length she spoke, her tone very low. “You toy with me, sir. And ’tis monstrously cruel of you to do so.”

“Monstrously cruel?” He laughed, a genuine mirthful laugh. “Yank, in truth I am being monstrously generous.”

“And in truth I can think of no reason why a man like you would want to marry the likes of me.” The words came out sharper than she intended.

“Ah, but I can.” There was a fierce light in his eyes, a light that was somehow almost frightening.

“And I say again, sir, you toy with me!” Her chin lifted bravely. “I do not forget that you are an English lord—”

“Nor do I, Yank.” She watched his slow-growing smile with mounting unease. “Why, you could soon be a countess…and the future duchess of Farleigh.”

A countess? A duchess?
Her
? Why, the man had clearly decided she was a simpleton. Sheer anger propelled her to her feet. Cassie silently gauged the distance to the door. “I’ve no doubt marriage may well be on your mind—but not to me!” she cried, rushing forward.

He caught her mid-stride. Fingers like iron talons curled around her arm, thwarting her flight and whirling her around to face him. Cassie looked up at him with a gasp.

His smile turned chilling. “I assure you, my dear, I am deadly serious. I may be many things, but I am not a man to speak lightly about such matters. Marriage is most certainly on my mind, but make no mistake—’tis marriage to
you
that I am about.”

Cassie could not help it. She blurted the first thing that came to mind. “But I-I do not know you…I’d be a fool to marry you!”

His smile vanished. “You’d be a fool not to,” he said coldly. “You no longer have my watch, Yank.
Have you considered what your life will be like if you remain here?”

“I-I am skilled with a needle.” She tried to speak defiantly and failed miserably. “I can find work as a seamstress—”

“And what if you do not? Who will hire you? You’ve no one to recommend you, no one who may testify as to your abilities. Indeed, what respectable dressmaker would hire a former tavern wench? And where will you live until you do find employment? In the streets? What if you chance to catch some man’s fancy? Could you defend yourself if he decided to have his way with you and you did not wish it? Believe me, Yank, that is no way to live, in Charleston or any other place.”

Cassie told herself he was trying to frighten her. She tried to shrink away, struggling to be free of his hold. He would not let her, but pulled her close—so close she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheeks.

“You could always go back to serving ale. Perhaps you don’t mind the leering glances, the hands beneath your skirts…”

Cassie shuddered.

“You’re fetching enough to earn your living with your body, I vow. Of course, if you’ve no aversion to spending the rest of your life on your back, exchanging one man for another, rutting between your thighs, night after night…”

Cassie’s cheeks burned at his frankness, her expression reflecting her revulsion. Confusion roiled within her. Was this a nightmare—or a godsend? She knew, now more than ever, that
she could never go back to the life she had been leading. She longed for nothing more than to leave it behind…forever.

She swallowed, forcing herself to look up into his hard, dark features.

“I do not understand,” she said, very low. “What possible reason could you have for such an offer? You say you do not forget the differences in our station.” Her voice caught. “So why—why me?”

Gabriel did not say it was those very differences that made him determined to wed her. To do so might jeopardize all that he sought.

A stab of black humor struck him. How ironic it was that all these years his father had had no use for his second son. But now that Stuart was gone, his father was determined to push his way into his life. Only now, the tables had been turned.

And at least the girl was passable to look upon. His gaze roved slowly over her upturned features, absorbing the smooth, creamy perfection of skin unadorned by powder or perfumes. Indeed, she was far more than passable…

His father was determined that he marry. Well, Gabriel decided with a grim feeling of triumph, he would be a dutiful son. He would give his father what he wanted, only it would not be quite as his father planned.

He would take as his wife this thieving, lowborn wench.

But he would offer her no more explanation than necessary. He realized he had snared her attention, if not her consent. He arched a brow, but did not flinch from the directness of her gaze.

“I see in your face that you do not delude yourself, Yank. I like that, for it would be a grave mistake to believe it’s love which motivates me.”

He released her, but his eyes commanded her attention. He acknowledged, with grim satisfaction, the flush that flamed her face as he scrutinized her from head to toe.

“Nor,” he added with a tight little smile, “is it lust.”

While Cassie smothered a sigh, he moved to stand at the window, his back to her. Strong hands linked behind him, he stared out at the harbor. After a moment, he turned back to her.

“You ask why I should wish to marry you. Very well, then, I shall be frank. My father is the duke of Farleigh. I am the youngest of two sons. As the eldest son, my brother Stuart was my father’s heir. Stuart died several months ago.”

Not knowing what to say, Cassie remained silent. Nor did he appear to expect anything from her; his features, like his voice, reflected no hint of emotion.

“Farleigh, my father’s estate in Kent, borders lands belonging to Reginald Latham, the duke of Warrenton. Warrenton’s only daughter, Lady Evelyn, was betrothed to my brother Stuart at the time of his death,” he went on. “When Stuart died, I inherited his title—earl of Wakefield—much to my father’s distaste, I suspect.”

The subtle hardening of his tone did not go unnoticed by Cassie. She could not help but wonder why…“You do not seem to have much liking for your father,” she said slowly.

He gave a harsh laugh. “As much as he has for
me. You see, Yank, my father’s wishes and mine seldom coincide.”

Cassie frowned. “And what has this to do with marriage?”
And me
, she amended silently.

“Before I left on this voyage, my father informed me that he expects me to inherit Stuart’s future bride as well as his title. I’ve no desire to marry Lady Evelyn, or any other woman for that matter, but my father feels it is my duty to marry.” A brief spasm of fury crossed Gabriel’s face. “My father is a strong-willed, powerful man who has seldom had his wishes turned aside. But I’ll not let him lead me down a path that is not of my own choosing. If I let him control me in this, he will be convinced he can control me in all things. And yet I’ve no wish to turn my back on all that might someday be mine. Therefore, I shall fulfill my duty—only my marriage will
not
be to the bride of his choice.”

There was a small pause. “As for why I’ve chosen you, by your own admission you have no relatives. There is no one to further interfere in my life. And I’ll be blunt, Yank. I’ve no time to search for a bride, either here or in England. If the deed is done upon my return, there is nothing my father can do to change it.” He was silent for a moment.

“We both wish to have control of our future,” he said with a shrug. “Your future will be assured. And if I am already wed, there’ll be no more simpering little misses eager to get their hands on my pocketbook. It seems a suitable match after all, does it not?”

An unlikely match is more like it
, she nearly blurted. She managed to stop herself in time. Yet when she offered no reply, he arched a
dark brow. “Well, Yank? I can be your salvation, if you will only let me. What do you say?”

Cassie could not help it. Bitterness spread through her like slow poison. As a child, she had often imagined that her father might someday appear, and take her away to a far-off place where there was no hunger, no smell of ale and sweat. But likelier than not, her mother herself had not known who her father was.

And she was neither blind nor foolish. No, she knew better than to expect salvation at the hands of a man. And this man was a stranger, a bold, irreverent one at that! Still, he could give her a far better life…She cared little about the furs and jewels he promised. But to Cassie, who had always dreamed of having a home of her own, a home that was not a hovel, such an offer was tempting. So tempting, indeed…

For a timeless instant she swung helplessly between heaven and hell. If she agreed, it meant traveling far across the ocean, day after day…She shivered inwardly, for she had been terrified of water since that horrible day she and her mother had arrived in Charleston…Could she stand such a journey?

She’d be mad to say yes. Dear God, just as daft to say no.

She struggled under the heat of Gabriel’s anticipatory regard. “Think,” he said softly. “This could be worth far more to you than the sum my watch would have brought you. I do believe you have it in you to be a lady of leisure, Yank. As my wife, you’ll want for nothing.”

Cassie drew a deep, ragged breath, summoning
her courage. “And what about later? A year from now? Ten years from now? Will you turn me out in the streets once I’ve served my purpose?”

He stepped toward her. Before she could stop him, he’d reached out and caught one of her hands in his. His expression impassive, he raised it between them to study her rough, work-roughened skin. More than anything, Cassie longed to snatch it back, bury her hands into her pockets, and hide them from sight. She tensed, but did not move though every instinct clamored within her to do just that.

His expression unreadable, he ran his thumb over the chafed, reddened skin of her knuckles.

“You will never again have to work a day in your life. Nor will you have to wait on anyone. Others will wait on you.”

Cassie’s palms had grown sticky. Her legs were not very steady.

“You would treat me well,” she said slowly, “and not raise a hand against me?”

Gabriel’s gaze sharpened. He pushed up the sleeve of her gown, revealing the purpled skin of her wrists. Cassie’s gaze was riveted to his face. Something flared in his eyes; it was gone so quickly she could not identify it.

His lips barely moved as he spoke. “Black Jack?”

Her eyes slipped away. She nodded; there was no need to say more. Abruptly he released her hand.

“I was raised to be a gentleman, Yank, no matter that there are some who might claim otherwise. You will come to no harm at my hand.”

Cassie stared at the toes of her shoes peeping
out from beneath her skirts. “And when would this marriage take place?” she asked quickly. “I’ll not sail with you until it’s done. I-I would know that you do not make promises you do not mean to keep.”

A slow smile crept along his lips. “Why, Yank! Are you so eager then to be wed—or merely bedded?”

That was not it at all. Why, the very thought made Cassie cringe. Nell had brought customers to the attic on numerous occasions. Cassie had pretended to be asleep, but that was hardly the case. She’d heard groans and grunts, whispers and laughter. She shuddered. They’d sounded like animals!

He shrugged. “I’d intended to set sail no later than noon. But I suppose a cleric might be persuaded to marry us within the hour with the right amount of gold lining his pocket.”

But she was not done.

Though the earl stood a few paces distant, Cassie was overwhelmingly conscious of the latent, masculine power hidden beneath his clothes. She recalled with nerve-shattering acuteness the heaviness of his body atop hers last night, the ruthless ferocity of his kiss.

She joined her hands to stop them from shaking. Her lips were trembling so that speech was impossible. “I do not want to share your bed. I’ve no desire to—to lie with you. And if you do not agree, I—I will not marry you.” There! She’d said it.

He quirked a brow. “Why, I begin to think you ill-formed, Yank.” He took a step forward. “Do
you hide some deformity? You wish to bargain, but perhaps you are no bargain after all. Indeed, perhaps I should examine the goods.”

Her head jerked up. She flung up her hands. “No!” she cried.

“I told you before, madam, ’tis not lust which draws me to you. I am a man of many appetites, but rest assured, I will pursue my pleasures elsewhere. There are other women who are perfectly willing to satisfy my needs.” He gave a biting laugh. “And God knows the last thing I want is an heir.” He met her gaze coolly. “So tell me, Yank. Do you travel with me back to England or will you remain here?”

It was with a vague sense of unreality that she heard herself whisper, “I will come with you.”

He nodded, then moved to the door and opened it. Inclining his head, he silently indicated she was to precede him through it.

Cassie moved through in a daze. Her mind was whirling so that she could scarcely assimilate all that had happened. It seemed so incredible…impossible! Only moments ago she had entered this room expecting to be punished…

Instead it seemed she was about to be married.

Downstairs, Christopher Marley was pacing the length of the taproom. Black Jack had settled his bulk onto a bench in the far corner; he stared as if hypnotized into a stout glass of ale. Hearing the echo of steps on the stairway, Nell sauntered in from the kitchens, a scornful smirk tugging at her lips, her manner decidedly lofty. Clearly she thought Cassie would soon be getting all she deserved.