Seducing the Beast (14 page)

A virgin! He was still trying to comprehend it. “I’m a man of honor. Even if you hold your virtue lightly…”

“For the Love of Saint Pete, you’re in no danger. I’ll take this secret to my grave.”

“That’s a dangerously long time to keep a secret.” He scratched his chin, watching her thoughtfully. Although she’d traded her virginity for this wicked ploy against the Earl of Swafford, she spoke too politely for a common whore. He already knew she could read and write so she was educated and, since she’d cared enough to shout at him for coming to the table without a shirt, someone raised her with manners.

She was certainly an amusing creature and provocation of the worst kind. Even as she sat before him, deceptively innocent, her spine straight, haughty chin lifted and hands wound tight, probably to keep them out of trouble, he envisaged her naked beneath him. It was shocking, but as so much of this was patently absurd, he let his mind go with the image. He recalled her thighs around him, her supple legs sliding up his back. He wouldn’t be surprised to find she rode astride with strong thighs like hers. He bit down on his tongue, his mind drawing licentious images of the sporting pleasure to be enjoyed between those thighs.

“What happens now?” she demanded. “Now you know I’m not Lady Shelton, I suppose you’ll throw me into a ditch somewhere, or over the cliff in an old sack and leave me to drown.”

He nodded somberly, his voice scraping out at an oddly high pitch. “All good choices.”

She stuck out her saucy tongue.

“Can’t keep you here indefinitely, can I? And you won’t tell me your name so I can’t take you home to your family. I won’t take you back to London.”

“Why?”

“Because you once protested at the number of villains, rogues and knaves you encountered there and I wouldn’t want any harm to come to you. In truth, I feel protective toward you now. Almost,” he paused, “possessive.”

It was a new idea for him, when it came to women, and he wasn’t pleased. “Go to bed,” he snapped suddenly, not sure where to direct his anger.

“It’s early,” she protested, pouting.

But he needed as much distance between them as he could make. For her sake, not just his. “Go,” he yelled at her, making her jump.

Scowling, swinging her linen headscarf, she traipsed up the stairs, each footstep banging loudly. He stayed below, listening to the gentle waves now covering the bay. Finally he lay down on a fleece before the fire and made some attempt at sleep.

While he plotted to keep her at arms length from now on, Maddie sketched a plan for his undoing. Forged in a mostly sleepless night, her ideas were still fresh the following morning and she keen to embark upon them. This was it then; her long-awaited adventure. She couldn’t let it pass her by. They didn’t have forever, so she ought to make the most of it.

She asked if she could go down to the bay today, now he knew she was not likely to run off.

“I don’t know what you’ll do,” he replied, grumpily. “I haven’t yet ascertained the length and breadth of your capabilities in that regard.”

She emerged from the pantry, jar of treacle in one hand, sticky knife in the other. “Am I still your prisoner?”

“Until I decide what to do with you.”

The gray shadows under his eyes proved he slept little the night before, but he’d shaved that morning, before she was up. It made him appear younger. His lips she daren’t consider for too long. His nose was long and thin, and his eyes, of course, were that luscious combination of spring grass, warm earth and afternoon sun. His jaw was strong and square. He must have a steady hand today, she mused, for there was not a single cut from his razor blade, yet he was not calm the night before. It gave her a little thrill to know she possessed the power to unsettle his hands.

His gaze slid over her, a slow caress almost stopping her heartbeat. “You’ll cut your tongue.”

She licked the blade again and although he shook his head, his eyes were too warm. “You should pay heed to me,” he said huskily. “One of these days you shall.”

“If you mean to train me in obedience, sir, think again. I follow no man’s orders.”

“You,” he murmured, “are a dangerous woman.”

“Never fear. I only bite when roused.”

“I worry not what you could do to me, but what I could do to you.” He reached out one long finger and wiped it across her cheek, collecting a stray blob of treacle.

“What keeps you?”

“My gentlemanly restraint.”

She laughed. “Hey ho! Like yesterday?”

He shook his head, still holding out his finger with the treacle on it, so she leaned over and licked the sticky treat from the tip of his finger. That loosened his disapproving lips enough to reprimand her again. “’Tis rude to take before you’re asked, young woman.” In answer to that, she swept her tongue out again, this time capturing his sun-browned finger in her mouth and sucking the last traces of treacle from it. His expression changed rapidly again, from annoyed to shocked, to an emotion for which she had no name. Releasing his finger, she licked her lips slowly. “Like I said before,” he croaked. “You’re a disobedient, foolhardy woman and you ought to pay heed to your betters.”

“Where are they then, my betters?”

“Right,” he leaned toward her and almost bit off her nose, “here!”

She swung away, humming, licking her lips.

“You have a sweet tooth,” he said, “and now you’re sticky.”

“I’ll go to the bay and wash it off.”

“You go nowhere without my permission.”

She paused in the doorway, licking the knife’s blade again. “I’ll go where I please.”

“Come…here!”

Her gaze locked with his, horns likewise.

She turned and ran for the bay.

Moments later he caught up with her, but she pleaded, “My ankle. The salt water will do it good.”

“If I concede this one thing to you, do I have your word to stop testing my patience?”

“Of course,” she said sweetly.

When his long fingers curled gently around her arm, Maddie’s heart skipped and danced. A little victory.

The air was cooler today and as they neared the bay, she felt a damp sprinkle that could be rain or a light mist from the water. He mumbled under his breath about her bad behavior, expressing self-righteous surprise that her wayward, wanton temperament didn’t get her in trouble with men before now. Talkative today, he wanted to know a great many things, none of which she could tell him.

“Can we not enjoy our time here together?” she said simply, stopping on the path.

“Our time together?” He regarded her doubtfully.

“I am minded to stay here with you a while.”

His mouth flapped open and a startled, indignant laugh spurted out. “Oh you are minded, are you?”

She nodded.

Hands on his hips, he looked away briefly, his jerkin blowing open in the breeze. “You can’t stay with me. I don’t want a woman in my life, no matter how beguiling she is.”

“Why?” she demanded, pulling on his shirt sleeve.

He glared down at her insistent, sticky fingers. “Because I have enough responsibilities. I don’t want any woman hanging on me.” One by one, he peeled her fingers from his sleeve, wincing at the treacle mess she left there.

“I must see the earl and persuade him to arrange a pardon for Nathaniel Downing.”

He shook his head, exhaling heavily.

“I’ll make him see sense. I daresay no one has ever told him the truth before, too afraid of his wrath. But since he doesn’t know me, I need have no fear of reprisals. I’ll tell him he’s an interfering old bugger, jealous of his brother’s love affairs. He needs a woman of his own. Since he has none, perhaps that accounts for his ill-temper.” She paused. “Your mouth is hanging open,” she pointed out.

Lips snapped shut, he walked on, arms swinging, his stride long and loose. She hurried after him, tripping down the path, until he turned and caught her before she fell into him. “Reckless,” he admonished her.

Sliding her arms around his waist, she looked up at him, her hair blowing wild in the churning sea breeze. “I won’t go yet. I’ll stay with you. I’m quite decided and rarely am I swayed from any scheme once my mind is set. My father could tell you that.”

* * * *

Her father. Somewhere she had one.

Setting his feet apart to steady them both he put his hands around her face. “I can’t keep you here.” He brushed her buttery-soft cheek with his knuckles. “Even if I wanted to, no matter how you tempt me.”

“This will be our secret. No one else will ever know.”

She was surely a wicked demon, he decided. A siren, like those who lured sailors to their death against rocks. She must know who he was, or she wouldn’t waste her time on him. Palms to her shoulders, he tried pushing her away, and when she resisted, clinging, he called her a limpet. The fierce wind buffeted her skirt and she clung around his waist to keep from being blown away.

As her hair billowed around them, slapping his face, his heart quickened in a peculiar fashion, leaving him short of breath. “I can give you nothing.” He looked down into those wide blue eyes. “I’m not a rich man, merely a servant indentured to the earl.” Waiting for a flicker of scorn to give her away, some sign to prove she knew the truth, instead he was surprised when she threw her head back, demanding a kiss.

“At once, man!” she added when he hesitated.

“Oh, no, no, no! For the Love of Christ! Not again.” He stepped back, holding her by the elbows. “Listen, wench, I can’t keep you here--as much for my sanity as your safety. And wipe that expression from your face this instant. Stop smiling!” Feeling unusually helpless, he blustered churlishly, “I prefer my life as it is. Predictable and…and...”

“Dull!”

“Orderly,” he said. “Uncluttered.”

“Are you afraid of me?” She appeared vastly amused by the prospect. “I’m too small--you said yourself--to do you any harm.”

“I wager your father is a great deal larger than you and probably keeps a sword or two on hand, along with the odd disemboweling cutlass.”

She chuckled, reaching for him again. When he tried to separate himself from her clutches, those determined hands clung to him with the aid of sticky treacle smudges. “We’re stuck together,” she observed, enjoying the joke.

“We can be unstuck,” he replied firmly.

“Let me stay. I’ll not be any trouble, I promise.”

“Women’s promises are ill-kept. And I have first hand knowledge of your wickedness, your refusal to obey and your utter lack of self-command. Why would I keep such a wayward wench?” When she didn’t reply, he knew, without even seeing her face, that she was scheming again.

“Oh look,” she exclaimed, suddenly releasing him, as if she was never stuck in the first place, “shells!” Pushing him aside, she ran down onto the sand, leaving him no choice but to follow, if he wanted her back. And he did.

* * * *

Rain threatened, and sometimes she felt the kiss of warm drops, but fancied it came from the sea, not the sky. Over one shoulder, she saw Gregory trotting across the sand to converse with
Master Griff,
as he and his wife so reverently called him. She supposed they’d known him since childhood. Griff once mentioned being born on the earl’s estate. Since his parents were both dead she supposed Gregory and Sally were like family, and it was plain they doted on him.

When she waved, Gregory lifted his cap, beaming scant-toothed, but Griff merely crossed his arms and leaned against the rock. God forbid he spare her another smile. Few and far between, their rarity made them even more precious. Turning away, she paddled further along the bay, straying out of the boundaries he’d set for her. A series of rock pools dotted the far end of the crescent and she made her way there to hunt for more shells, collecting them in her borrowed apron.

The pools were already quite deep and she sank to her hips in the water. Unaccustomed to this abuse, Eustacia’s skirt bubbled up around her, so, rather than be hindered by it, she slipped it off, spreading it over a rock to dry before resuming her hunt for shells. Occasionally she ducked under the water to retrieve one, and in this manner, was busy for some time, inattentive to the advance of the tide. It was above her waist in the rock pool when Griff came to find her.

Bellowing at her, he stood on the rocks, soaking wet from head to toe, wearing only shirt and breeches. At first she couldn’t understand a word out of his mouth, but eventually it became clear, as he stood cursing, spitting and upbraiding her for being reckless and thoughtless yet again. Apparently, when Gregory had left him and he’d come in search of her, the first thing he’d seen was Eustacia’s discarded skirt floating away on the advancing tide. So he swam out to rescue her.

Maddie laughed as he told the story and this made him angrier, until his words broke down into a series of stammers and accusations. He splashed into the rock pool, flinging seaweed from his shoulders. “I have been forced,” he sputtered, “to watch you…showing off in the water for the last hour…skirt up around your knees…deliberately listening to not one…”

“Could you move your foot?”

He did. She took a breath, ducking under the water to collect another shell. When she emerged again he was still complaining as if she’d never left. “And you speak of being no trouble, gazing up at me with those damnable blue eyes, until I almost forget how much trouble you’ve already caused me.”

“Oh calm yourself! You make a considerable tantrum with very little cause.” Twisting her hair over one shoulder, she squeezed out the seawater. “Pity about the skirt, as I have no other and you gave no thought to that when you dragged me out of Lady Shelton’s house.” Turning away, she laid her collection of shells out on the rock. “You’ll have to tolerate me in my shift. Will you manage?”

When there was no reply, she looked over her shoulder, catching him in the motion of drawing his hands up over his face, washing something off. Seawater dripped from his eyelashes and rendered his shirt translucent. The linen molded to every sculpted detail of the glorious body within. Maddie bit her lip, tasting salt. She remembered the rock hard slabs of his chest pressing her to the door and how as he’d laid her on the table, those same broad muscles arched over her…his masterful hands holding her hips, his manhood plundering her maidenly treasure. As he started toward her again, she turned back to her shells and continued counting, although she’d lost her place.