Twice Fallen (35 page)

She’d had exactly the same reaction and a part of her was relieved that he seemed as startled as she was, but another part was more puzzled than ever.

In a swift athletic motion he levered up on one elbow and shook the hair out of his eyes, his tone husky. “What is this? Who are you?”

Considering she was the one clad only in a slip of flimsy silk, the warmth of embarrassment flushing her skin, she responded tartly, “I have not the slightest idea as to what
this
is. How did I get here?”

“How did
you
get here? As I’ve never seen you before and
here
is a mystery to me, how would I know?” He sat up fully and ran his long fingers through his thick hair. His eyes were dark, his skin a light bronzed tone that reflected the dappled multicolored light from the unusual window high above them. Then his eyes narrowed. “Just a moment. I retract that. I do know who you are. . . . Whitbridge’s daughter?”

The evident consternation in his direct stare confused her even more. It was genuine, she would swear, and besides, she didn’t remember anything of arriving at this place—and as bizarre as it was, apparently he didn’t either.

Elena nodded, her lips trembling. Whatever was happening, there was no doubt that her father was frantic.
How long had she even been here? “Yes, Lord Whitbridge is my father.”

Her companion swore. It was under his breath, but telling in intonation, and she caught the sentiment if not the exact words. After looking around the room again, he finally said evenly, “I don’t remember anything. I can count on one hand the times in my life I’ve been so foxed that an entire evening got away from me, and those were a decade ago, not to mention I doubt I’d ever forget bedding
you
. I wasn’t drunk, so how in Hades did I get here?”

The young woman in beguiling dishabille, who at the moment had turned a very becoming shade of pink, looked at him as if he were the devil incarnate, complete with cloven hooves and a forked tongue.

Perhaps he was, come to think of it.

Irrefutably, Ran would never have said anything so blunt in front of a young, unmarried—even if very beautiful—woman under normal circumstances, but then again, virginal misses were not his area of expertise. Were he concerned with fine manners and social graciousness at the moment, he would apologize for being so indelicate, but the truth was, they
were
in bed together and he had no idea how either one of them had gotten into this predicament.

Finesse be damned at this point in time.

The earl’s golden-haired daughter gazed at him with enormous blue eyes, the pale upper curves of her full breasts gleaming above the lace of her demure chemise, the soft rose of her lips provocative. He’d seen her only in passing before, but up close, her beauty was as dazzling
as all the rumors held it. “You . . . you didn’t,” she stammered, her blush deepening. “We didn’t . . . we couldn’t have—”

Fucked?
Luckily, he didn’t say that out loud. Courtesy was not his first priority at the moment but at least he didn’t vocalize the crudity.

“Exactly my point,” he grimly interrupted, partly because he was still unnaturally groggy and had an appalling headache, and partly to spare her, since it was obvious to him she didn’t know exactly what she was referring to in the first place. “But you have to admit certain conclusions could be drawn over our location and state of mutual undress.”

What he would have liked to say was that while he might have been known for his largesse in the bedroom, at least it could be said that he remembered his paramours, but he made it a point never to discuss his private affairs with anyone.

Still, that raised the question: Why was he here, in bed with the delectable daughter of an earl, who happened to be a young woman he’d never even met?

As far as he knew, there were no rumors about Whitbridge’s finances being suspect, but then again, Ran was a very rich man and his initial reaction to this unusually compromising situation was suspicion. There was a reason he stayed away from the eligible young ladies angling for wealthy, titled husbands. At not quite thirty, he wasn’t interested in the restrictions of marriage yet. But if he had to do his duty and acquire a wife in order to sire an heir, at least he wanted it to be his choice.

“If this is a ploy, you will wish you hadn’t tried it,” he said through his teeth with less civility than he might
otherwise have used due to his aching head. “I can’t be coerced.”

In answer, she just looked at him in evident confusion, as if he’d suddenly lost his mind, which, in light of his current circumstances, he wasn’t sure he hadn’t. “What?”

“I won’t marry you.”

In any other situation, her horrified expression might have been amusing, but at the moment, he wasn’t in a particularly jocular mood. She stammered, “You surely do not think that I . . . I . . . That this . . . Are you insinuating . . . ?”

He lifted a brow.

This time it was anger that tinted her cheeks as she gathered her composure. Scathingly, she informed him, “My lord, your legendary charm seems to be in abeyance. I hope it does not offend your sense of self-worth, but rest assured, you are certainly
not
what I am looking for in a husband.”

If she was acting, she was quite good.

He took a moment, unclenched his jaw as he registered her sincerity, and reminded himself that she was lovely enough, he doubted that shopping for a rich husband in such a drastic way was necessary. “It’s been done before,” he said with less steel in his tone. “A man manipulated into a compromising position and honor-bound then to marry the young lady.”

“My understanding is that
honor
is a rather loose term to you.”

She was wrong. He only played the game with ladies who were as willing and as unattached as he was, but Ran was well-aware of his reputation. “You don’t know me,” he said curtly.

“I am starting to wish that was still the case,” she shot back, her cheeks flushed.

If she was innocent, he deserved the set-down, and it sounded like she meant it.

The infidelities of his class had left him somewhat jaded. He’d been first seduced by one of his aunt’s friends—a countess whose much older husband was not that attentive—and after that enlightening experience, he’d seen enough of the value most of his privileged acquaintances put on their wedding vows to have a jaundiced view of the institution of marriage. It was his conclusion that while some species of animals and birds mated for life, human beings were not sophisticated enough for that sort of loyalty. It was usually a mercenary arrangement, and if he were honest with himself, he’d always thought there should be much more to it.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood abruptly, wondering where in hell the rest of his clothes might be, not to mention his boots. In his experience—and he had to admit he had quite a bit—the usual scene of any seduction had clothing strewn on the floor or any other convenient surface as the participants disrobed in the heat of passion. Not interested in defending his morals, he asked, “Now that we’ve established neither one of us wants to be here, why
are
we? What do you remember?”

“Attending the theater.” She lifted a trembling hand to smooth back her shining hair, the long pale strands gilded by the colored light, her expression disconcerted, but to her credit, at least she wasn’t in hysterics like most spoiled young ladies might have been. “I was waiting for my father’s carriage. It is unclear to me what happened after that.”

His
last recollection before waking? Ran wasn’t sure. He contemplated it for a moment, rubbing his jaw. “I was leaving my club. I’d met friends there for dinner and a whiskey or two, but as I said, I was hardly inebriated enough for this. My last impression was of stepping out onto the street.”

The floor was cool stone like the walls, and from the circular shape of the room, it appeared to be in a tower. When he strode purposefully to the door, he already knew what he would find.

As he suspected, the door was barred on the outside. He tried it, and then set his shoulder to it, but it was solid and didn’t move even a fraction. When he turned back around, his delectable companion had gathered the blanket from the bed and covered her partial nudity, her eyes pools of inquiry.

Had their circumstances been different, he might have experienced a twinge of regret, but as it stood, it was just as well.

“Locked,” he said unnecessarily.

“Why?”

“My very question.” He saw the glasses on the table and was grateful—at the moment, for later he might want something stronger—that the pitcher was full of water. First he poured a glass for her, guessing that if she’d been given the same vile drug that he’d obviously been dosed with, she might also be thirsty. She accepted with a chilly thank-you, and when he’d taken a long, cool drink for himself, he asked neutrally, “Can you think of any reason someone would wish to kidnap you?”

“My father is wealthy.”

So was he, so it was a possibility, but in Ran’s case, his
funds were not available without his presence to sign the proper documents. So that was an oversight on the part of their abductor. However, now that his throbbing headache was easing a little, the whole thing seemed like perhaps there was more behind it than money. To start with, why take their clothes?

“I suppose it could be we are going to be ransomed,” he conceded slowly, wondering what drug they’d been given because he’d drained his glass of water and was still thirsty, and his headache was pronounced enough that he was glad the room was shadowed.

“You don’t sound very convinced, my lord. Why else are we here? If they had wished to harm us, they certainly had every opportunity.”

He
wasn’t
convinced. A young debutante locked in a room with a man who had a reputation for seduction?

When he looked at it that way, the angle reflected an interesting light on the situation.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed now, her slender, shapely form wrapped in the concealing folds of the coverlet, and she regarded him with discomforting directness. “If you will excuse me for saying so, Lord Andrews, you are much more likely to have enemies than I am.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed with a hint of cynical practicality, “but would they exact vengeance by locking me in with a beautiful young lady?”