Virginia Henley (30 page)

Wishful thinking on his part had blinded him to her unmistakable air of breeding. If he was being honest, it was a hell of a lot more than wishful thinking, it was hot lust! When he had offered her carte blanche, he remembered her
words exactly:
You are too arrogant, too cocksure, and far, far too old for me, Lord Bath.

Also remembered vividly was the feeling of rage that swept over him when he had walked into his bedchamber and found her in Peter’s arms. When his brother told him they were engaged, he experienced such a sharp sense of loss, he realized he had been on the brink of falling for her. In that moment he hated his brother and coveted her shamefully.

The problem was he still coveted her. When he had found her unconscious in that antique shop, he had resented bringing her to Hardwick Hall and Peter. He secretly hoped that Peter would reject a fiancée who had been missing for months, but his brother had been overjoyed that Diana was found, and had rushed off to London at dawn to inform her aunt and uncle.

What no one knew, save himself and Nora, was that in the middle of the night the earl had come to this chamber and told Nora he would stay with Lady Diana as she lay unconscious in hopes of being there when she awoke.

As he watched her, lying so still and pale, her beauty overwhelmed him. Just thinking of her had been a strong enough lure to bring him to her bedside. Once he was in the same room with her, desire gripped him by the throat. He was drawn close to her by some compelling force that played havoc with his willpower. His hand reached out to touch her of its own volition. He brushed the golden tendrils back from her brow and was instantly lost.

Desire flared in him, flooding his brain, his heart, his loins. A longing to make her his consumed him. He took his hand from her as if it had been burned, then moved his chair back from the bed. Yet it had not diminished his desire. He was fully aroused and his body remained in that blatant condition all night.

He felt extremely possessive about her, as if she had belonged to him and he had lost her. Throughout the long, quiet night he had received fleeting glimpses of …
what? Another time, another place? The sensations were similar to déjà vu, yet were so ephemeral and fleeting, he could not hold on to them. He had had these feelings before, whenever he held a Roman artifact in his hands.

Where the hellfire had she been for nine months? Jealousy consumed him. Yet he knew he had no right to be jealous. Lady Davenport was engaged to his brother, Peter. Had she run away because she did not wish to marry Peter? He found himself wishing it were so.

When Diana finished the broth, she drank a full glass of water, then reached for the pot of tea.

Mark Hardwick cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I was so brusque before.”

Diana cast him a sideways glance. “It almost chokes you to apologize.”

He bristled at her words and Diana felt a flicker of satisfaction.

With effort, he hung on to his temper and said most reasonably, “If you will tell me about your ordeal, I promise to listen. You must tell someone.”

“And that someone ought to be you? How patronizing. And when I’ve finished my tale, you’ll pat me on the head and pop a sugarplum into my mouth. Then you’ll relate everything I’ve told you to your friend, Charles Wentworth, and you’ll both laugh your bloody heads off!”

“For God’s sake, Diana, give me a little credit. I am quite capable of being open-minded.”

“Diana, is it? What happened to Lady Diana?”

“That’s what I’d bloody well like to know! Whatever happened has robbed you of your sweet air of innocence.”

Diana began to laugh. “Innocence?” she gasped. “That was the very first thing I lost. I lived with the decadent Romans. I was captured by General Marcus Magnus. When he saw me naked, he ordered me bathed and perfumed and sent to his couch. And I became his slave!”

Mark Hardwick’s jaw almost fell open. Her words painted such an erotic picture, blood surged in his veins, hardening his already swollen shaft to marble. His skin-tight buff riding breeches made his condition most uncomfortable. He stood up in an effort to conceal his arousal, but her amethyst eyes slid over the enormous bulge knowingly.

Was she openly admitting that she’d had a lover? The idea shocked him. She was a young, unmarried,
titled lady.
It was unheard of. His mind searched for another explanation.

“Are you trying to tell me you were raped, Diana?” he asked grimly.

“No! But you must understand that I was a slave in his household. He had absolute authority over me.”

Mark thrust his hands into his pockets to stop his fists from clenching. “So you yielded to him?”

“No! I refused to obey his orders; refused even to acknowledge that I was his slave.” The corners of her mouth lifted. “You were absolutely livid! Sorry … Marcus was absolutely livid.”

“Did he beat you?”

“Marcus? Good heavens no. He had a slave master with an enormous flagellum to whip his slaves for him.”

She’s making this up, and enjoying every moment,
Mark thought silently.

“He gave orders that I was to be put to work mopping his tile floors until I was ready to yield to him.”

“That is when you surrendered?”

“No! I mopped the bloody floors.”

“But you told me you lost your innocence; by that I assume you meant your virginity?”

“My virginity.” Her mouth curved in remembrance. “It absolutely fascinated you—I mean him.”

The earl ran his tongue over his top lip. Christ, she was so titillating, he wanted to push her back in the bed, remove the prim white nightgown, and thrust between her thighs.

“Since he owned me and had total authority over me, I knew that sooner or later I would have to obey him; it was inevitable.”

“So you yielded.”

“No! I did something you taught me to do; I negotiated.”

His mind flew back to the time he had carried her up to his town house to negotiate.

“You taught me quite a lot that night. I learned that when a man wants sexual favors from a woman badly enough, he will agree to any terms.”

Mark Hardwick felt his anger begin to rise. Diana had refused his proposition, but now she was going to tell him she had accepted another man’s.

Diana ran her fingers through her disheveled hair and pushed it back from her shoulders. The earl’s fingers curled inside his pockets. He wanted to bury them in that pale golden mass.

“I told Marcus Magnus that I would pretend to be his slave in the presence of others, if he would allow me freedom to say what I pleased when we were alone, and if he agreed to treat me as a lady. He reluctantly agreed.”

“In return for what?” Mark demanded.

“In return for my virginity, of course.”

“So he did rape you?”

“Ah no, I gifted him with it. Not immediately, of course, not until he had wooed and won me.”

“Do you expect me to believe a barbaric Roman would woo a woman?”

“Marcus wasn’t a barbarian.” She closed her eyes remembering. “He was a patrician. The general was a stern military man with little time for women. He was no depraved voluptuary. Yet he wooed me as no other woman was ever wooed. He was physically magnificent, his body so lithe and powerful, he made me weak just looking at him. Seeing him in his breastplate and armor was like an aphrodisiac to me. Our lovemaking was too precious and private for me to share with anyone. Suffice it to say that when we consummated, we ravished each other.”

Mark Hardwick could never remember being so highly aroused in his life. Being in this bedchamber with Diana Davenport was like being in a high-class brothel while a courtesan related an erotic sex fantasy. Only Lady Diana was no strumpet, she was a young, unmarried, titled lady. One with tantalizing sexual experience. The earl’s black eyes dilated with desire.

“And you believe that I was this Marcus Magnus?” he asked huskily.

“I know you were.” Her glance swept him from head to foot, lingering on his mouth, the width of his shoulders, the blatant bulge of his groin. “The years have not been kind to you, Lord Bath.”

He stiffened, insulted. “What the devil do you mean?”

“Oh, you have the same arrogance as Marcus, the same authority and command, but seventeen hundred years of civilization have put a veneer upon you that is unattractive. You are sophisticated, cynical, and selfish; vain, egotistical, and bored. Perhaps even profligate. In other words you have become jaded, Lord Bath, and it is most unappealing.”

“Then I shall relieve you of my odious presence!”

“Good! I should like to get dressed now. I am not an invalid.”

“You’ll do no such bloody thing! You most assuredly are an invalid. You haven’t begun to recover. You’re still—”

“Delusional?” Diana asked sweetly.

“Yes, delusional. I shan’t mince words with you. You will stay in bed, or else.”

Her chin went up. “Or else what?” she challenged.

“I shan’t call my slave master. I’ll beat you myself.” His black eyes had a definite hint of wildness that warned her the earl was capable of any recklessness, even violence.

Diana slid down in the bed. It felt wonderful to hear the total authority in his voice. It was both familiar and comforting to listen to his deep male voice issuing commands, and know she flaunted them at her own risk.

Mark had the doorknob in his hand when he turned back to her. “You haven’t asked about Peter.”

“Peter?” she asked blankly.

“Your fiancé, Peter Hardwick. You do remember him?”

Was the edge in his voice sarcasm? “Unfortunately,” she said candidly.

His spirits soared, yet perversely he reprimanded her. “You put my brother in a hell of position when you disappeared. It was all over the newspapers. He instigated an exhaustive search for you. Peter was overjoyed when I found you, so obviously he feels the same about you as he did, in spite of everything.”

“There is absolutely nothing between your brother and me. I didn’t deny the engagement the night you found us together because I felt he had compromised me. I was that innocent!”

“You are not in love with Peter?” he asked sharply.

Diana laughed. “Peter is a boy. I have known a great passion since the last time I saw your brother. I am not the naive child that I was, allowing myself to be trapped over a
few kisses. Since then I have experienced the love of a man, a real man.”

Mark Hardwick came back toward the bed. “Peter left for London this morning, in spite of the snow. He’s gone to tell your aunt and uncle of your return. Naturally, they will come back with him. I expect them tomorrow night unless the roads are bad.”

“Ugh! Prudence!” Diana said with a shudder. “I suppose she must be faced.”

“Are you afraid of her?”

Diana considered for a moment. “I was. She kept me on a very short leash. She dominated me, and when that didn’t work, she manipulated me with guilt, playing on my sympathies by pretending to be an invalid. She will soon learn I am no longer a biddable girl, but a woman.”

“The gossip your disappearance caused wasn’t pleasant for her.”

An impish look of delight crossed Diana’s face. “Her god is respectability. Oh, how I wish I could have witnessed her discomfort.”

“Your aunt and uncle are still your legal guardians,” he cautioned.

A look of dismay replaced her delight.

“I thought you weren’t afraid.”

“Prudence will punish me dreadfully for this, but after the fear I’ve experienced, Prudence will be no more than an irritation.”

He raised an eyebrow of inquiry as dark as a raven’s wing.

A lump came into her throat and she began to tremble. “Don’t ask,” she whispered. “I cannot speak of it … not yet.”

“Get some rest,” he said brusquely. He closed the door quietly.
What the devil is she hiding?
he asked himself. She fascinated him much more now than she had in the past. Now, an air of mystery surrounded her, and coupled
with the unconventional things she said, he was drawn to her like a lodestone.

Apparently she intended to withdraw from the engagement, which wouldn’t sit very well with Peter, who had dashed off to London, probably to inform her guardians that plans for the wedding could proceed. Mark Hardwick felt relieved that she had not given her heart to his brother, and not only for personal reasons. An exquisite woman like Diana deserved better than a profligate young hellraiser like Peter.

As he had expected, when Peter Hardwick got halfway to London, the snow turned to rain. In spite of the weather, he was in good spirits. He had fallen so deeply in debt from his gambling, he had begun to feel like a hunted man. His markers were piling up at every gentleman’s club in London and he knew the only reason they hadn’t been called was because his brother was the Earl of Bath.

More pressing debts had had to be paid, however. His losses at cockfights and pit bull fights were staggering, and those men would have broken his legs, at the very least, if he had not paid up. As a result, he had fallen into the hands of the moneylenders. This had postponed his troubles, but by no means had it solved them. Fleet Prison loomed very real on Peter’s horizon, and his only hope to avoid it was to throw himself on his brother’s mercy and confess all. This was an indication of just how desperate he was, for he hated Mark with a vengeance, and would do anything to avoid that arrogant son-of-a-bitch’s contempt.

Then at his darkest hour he had been saved by Diana Davenport. She had reappeared as suddenly as she had mysteriously disappeared. He didn’t give a tinker’s damn where she had been. All that mattered to Peter was that his wedding to the heiress could now go forward.

It had been eight months since he’d spoken to Richard and Prudence Davenport. They had remained in Bath for a
month while a lengthy search had been carried out, but eventually had no choice but to return to London.

The hour was late when he arrived in Grosvenor Square, and he found Richard Davenport and his wife at home. When the majordomo took his caped greatcoat and ushered him into the drawing room, Peter said, “I know you will forgive the lateness of the hour when I tell you the news. Diana has been found!”

No joy registered on either face. They looked as if he had dropped a bombshell.

“Found alive?” Richard demanded.

“Mercifully, yes. She’s quite safe at Hardwick Hall.”

“But we assumed she was dead,” Prudence blurted out. She and Richard exchanged what could only be described as a look of guilt.

A red flag went up in Peter’s mind. Being a devious bastard himself, and human nature being what it was, he suspected them of chicanery. With his face a mask, his voice bland, he said, “Plans for the marriage can go forward immediately.”

“Not so fast,” Richard interjected. “Our precious agreement is no longer in effect.” Richard’s mind darted about like quicksilver. Diana was presumed dead and he had proceeded accordingly. Naturally, without a body, a number of years must pass before the courts declared her legally dead, but Richard was in complete charge of Diana’s money, and by clever manipulation and maneuvering, he had managed to transfer the bulk of her fortune into his own accounts.

Peter Hardwick’s mind easily kept apace with Richard’s, especially when money was involved. The only reason this pair of vultures would declare their arrangement of 60–40 null and void was if they had high expectations of keeping it all.

Peter smiled. If Richard Davenport had done something illegal, he had him by the short hairs. “As Diana’s fiance, I believe I will advise her to look into how her estate
has been managed while under your guardianship. My brother, the earl, enjoys the services of London’s finest barristers.”

“I shall inform Diana you are only interested in her money,” Prudence threatened. “She will call off your engagement immediately!”

Peter’s smile reached all the way to his eyes. “Regardless of whether she marries me or not, your time is running out. In two short months she will come of age and inherit. Will that be sufficient time to restore the money that is missing?”

Prudence and Richard exchanged swift glances.

“Ah, I thought perhaps it wasn’t,” Peter said affably. “It appears your agreement with me is the lesser of two evils, after all.”

Peter could see that although it was clearly a struggle, both Richard and Prudence knew the only thing for them to do was put the best face on it they could. Richard turned to Peter and said, “I shall come to Bath at once. Did the wretched girl say where she had sloped off to all these months?”

“Actually, no. The earl found her unconscious in an antique shop and carried her to Hardwick Hall in his carriage. Naturally we called a physician. He found no bones broken and expects her to recover without delay.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she was hurt?” Prudence demanded, reverting to the role of caring aunt in the blink of an eye.

“You didn’t bother to ask,” Peter said dryly. “I think it best if we marry in Bath. I shall be returning tomorrow and can take you in my carriage if that would suit?”