Virginia Henley (40 page)

A bare-chested Lascar loped down a gangplank and along the darkened dock. Without a word he bent and lifted the unconscious body over his shoulder, then retraced his steps aboard the East Indiaman. After a necessary
measure of time had elapsed Adam Savage boarded his
Red Dragon.
By midnight he had inspected the cargo in all the holds, save the one that was locked and barred. He instructed his crew to drop Bernard Lamb on the island of Madagascar, thousands of miles away.

All the lovely things Antonia had selected on their voyage to the continent were carefully stowed in the dry holds of the
Red Dragon,
which had made port in London over a week ago while he had dallied in Ireland. He was glad that the Indiaman sailed on the morning tide before Tony returned, for if she were here he knew she would insist upon looking into every box to assure herself that her exports would arrive undamaged.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head at his own folly. She had been one helluva lot less trouble as a male than she would ever be as a female. He thanked God she had obeyed him for once and stayed put in Ireland for a few days until he’d taken care of the pressing problem of Bernard Lamb.

In Ireland, Tony felt almost abandoned. The rains came to Darkwater and it was as if the sun had gone out of her life when Adam Savage departed. Now that her whole attention was not riveted upon the object of her desire, she noticed that Mrs. Kenny, and the rest of the staff looked at her askance, with disapproval written all over their faces. Perhaps it was her imagination, but even Mr. Burke seemed to have figuratively taken a step back from her so that a cool, polite distance was between them.

The rains were so persistent, she could neither go for a walk nor ride in the pony cart. She tried to amuse herself by wandering about the empty chambers of the ancient castle. The endless shadows took their toll on her thoughts. Why had he left her alone? Why couldn’t they have traveled back together? What business in London was so urgent and important that it took precedence over her? Damned funny business if she knew aught of his affairs.
Affairs! There was an apt choice of words, she told herself mockingly. Why hadn’t she questioned him about his pressing business? Because she had been too bloody besotted with him to even think coherently in his presence. Why was it even necessary to question him? If he had nothing to hide, why hadn’t he told her why he must return?

Oh, ye of little faith, Antonia chided herself. Hadn’t he given her his heart? Hadn’t he told her he loved her? When she stepped across the threshold into his bedchamber a wedge of emotion stuck in her throat. His dominant presence was tangible in the very air. She licked her lips, still tasting him there, still feeling the crush of his mouth that made her heart beat so wildly, she almost fainted from its touch.

She reached out a hand to the bedcovers, then snatched it back quickly, afraid that if she caressed the sheets where they had mated, she would be undone. She wrapped her arms tightly about her breasts to still the ache and moved to the window that jutted out over the cliff. Suspended between the earth and the sky was exactly where he had left her!

Antonia went in search of Mr. Burke. “I’m going to pack. I want to leave today.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“I’m not running after him!” she flared.

“I should hope not, my lady.”

By using her formal title it seemed to Antonia that the very proper Mr. Burke was emphasizing her scandalous indescretion. “You won’t look at me with such disdain when I am Lady Blackwater!”

A look of surprise flickered across his face. “When is the wedding to be, my lady?” he asked politely.

His question pinned her to the wall like a helpless butterfly.

“None of your bloody business!” she flared.

Tony packed away her boy’s clothes and swore never to
wear them again. They were far more comfortable and unrestrictive than dresses and all the underpinnings that went with them, but as Antonia she would not be in danger. There was also another reason for her decision. The competition for Adam Savage among the women of London was fierce. Now that he was the Marquess of Black-water he would be even more openly sought after. She knew she would have to compete for his affection. Affection? What a ridiculous, pallid word to describe what was between them. Surely he had never made love to anyone the way he had made love to her?

She tried to push that thought away, but others flooded in to take its place. He was more than twelve years older than she, a mature man. Very mature! He had lived for years in the East, where erotic sexual practices were the norm. A picture of Lotus Blossom flashed into her thoughts. A handmaiden in a bathing pool.

Tony slammed the trunk lid closed and fastened the leather straps. He hadn’t even hinted at marriage. Perhaps she was just another conquest. No! No! Hadn’t he told her he loved her? Hope was not yet dead. If he married her and took her to live at Edenwood, she would live happily and securely ever after.

A dreaded thought crept in. The moment Bernard Lamb learned that it was Antonia who had survived the boating accident, he would claim Lamb Hall. Adam Savage must marry her and take her to Edenwood, there was no alternative!

On the sea voyage home and on the coach ride from the coast to London, Tony made herself totally miserable. To insulate her heart against Savage’s rejection she catalogued all the reasons why she should not marry him. She had no trouble counting the reasons. He was a dangerous man. He had a sinister side that she chose to ignore. His past was murky with unsavory acts of corruption. Aye, and not just his past, if she faced the truth. He was an immoral
devil who dabbled in smuggling and God knew what other villainous activities to keep his coffers filled.

She was far better off sharing a passionate liaison with him than shackling herself with the bonds of matrimony. He had told her he loved her and she believed that he did. But she had been privileged to discover that men’s ideas of love differed greatly from women’s. To a woman love and marriage went hand in hand. To a man love and lust were synonymous. A wife was someone who took second place to a mistress, or even a whore, if that whore satisfied him in bed.

By the time she arrived in Curzon Street, she had convinced herself that she wouldn’t marry Adam Savage if he were the last man on earth.

“Antonia, thank Heaven you are returned!” Roz said dramatically.

Tony’s heart sank to even lower depths. Whatever else could go wrong? She had thought things couldn’t possibly get blacker.

“We have a letter from Anthony!” Roz cried.

“Anthony?” Tony murmured blankly.

“Oh, darling, he didn’t drown as we all assumed. He’s alive! What a wretched boy to make us wait so long to tell us.”

“How … where?”

“Here, read it for yourself, darling!”

Antonia’s hand shook like a leaf in the wind as she unfolded the pages to breathlessly scan her brother’s unmistakable scrawl. “My God, he’s with mother in Ceylon!”
Her knees went weak with relief and she sank down upon a brocaded settee to read the amazing story of his being rescued at sea by an East Indiaman on its way to Madras, India.

The words jumped from the page. “They made me work my passage and it almost killed me at first. It was soon brought home to me what a sheltered, pampered life I had led. All in all it’s been the best thing that ever happened to me. By the time I reached India, it had made a man of me, which was a damn good thing because it was no easy matter making my way to Ceylon without a penny in my pocket. Almost half a year has elapsed since I was washed from the deck of the
Seagull
and it will take this letter two or perhaps even three more months to reach you in Curzon Street. I hope you haven’t been too worried about me. Ceylon is fascinating. Wish you were here. Love, Tony.”

She jumped up, laughing and crying at the same time. Rosalind and Antonia embraced joyfully. “He hopes we haven’t been too worried about him!” She went from Roz’s arms into Mr. Burke’s, the coolness between them now evaporated. “When I get my hands on him, I’m going to throttle him. He ought to have been smothered at birth!”

Mr. Burke poured three glasses of sherry to celebrate the joyous tidings and Roz actually kissed him. “It not only means we shall have Anthony back, but Antonia as well. Do please burn those hideous trousers you’ve been parading about in for months.”

Tony smiled to herself. Not everyone found her trousers hideous. “I can’t wait to tell Adam! Oh, I was right not to tell Mother Anthony had drowned. Think of all the anguish I’ve saved her.”

Roz set her empty glass down firmly. “Darling, you can’t simply drop in on a gentleman as Tony did. Half-Moon Street is a bachelor’s establishment. You’ll need a calling card and a chaperone.”

“Women come and go at Half-Moon Street as if it were
a public convenience. Half the countesses and duchesses in London frequent the place.”

“But they are married ladies, Antonia. They are not bound by the strict moral code that applies to an innocent, unmarried young lady.”

“I may be unmarried, Roz, but I am not innocent. Mr. Burke will no doubt testify to that as soon as he gets you alone. There’s not much point in locking the stable door after the horse has bolted, and if you think I am going to be hidebound by society’s ridiculous strictures after enjoying total freedom, you are deluding yourself.”

Tony swept up the stairs to bathe and change before she rushed to the arms of her lover. She took special pains with her appearance and selected one of the chic outfits that had been made for her debut. It was a jonquil yellow walking dress with a matching pelisse with bishop sleeves. In Ireland she had neither powdered her hair nor worn a wig, and Adam had taken a sensual pleasure in the black cloud that cascaded about her shoulders. She would put it up, of course, for the sheer pleasure of having him take it down, but she would not cover it with white powder.

The yellow gown made her vivid and exotic. Tony painted her lips scarlet and selected a beauty patch to emphasize her right cheekbone. Then she swirled about and laughed into her mirror, thinking how absolutely delicious life was after all.

As soon as Tony had run upstairs, Roz fixed Mr. Burke with a steely gaze. “Whatever does she mean, she’s no longer innocent?”

Mr. Burke was a model of discretion. “She means, of course, that she saw far too much of the way young men behave when she masqueraded as one. I think we will have to allow her a little more freedom than other young ladies.”

“If you say so, Mr. Burke. I suppose we can rely on her good judgment.”

Mr. Burke managed not to choke on his sherry.

“All the same, I think I’ll have a discreet word with Mr. Savage and explain that Antonia is actually a woman.”

“Mr. Savage discovered that for himself, my lady.”

“Thank Heaven! As her guardian he will see the need to protect her virginity, even if she does not.”

This time Mr. Burked choked.

Antonia’s heart was singing as the carriage made its laborious progress to Half-Moon Street. She couldn’t wait for the driver to tether the horses and open the door for her, but grasped the handle firmly to open it herself. At that moment the front door of Savage’s town house opened to reveal the beauteous Georgiana Devonshire. She was wearing an outfit that must have cost the earth. It was palest blue satin, whose matching jacket was trimmed with ermine tails at shoulder and hip.

Georgiana’s powdered coiffeur, held in place by blue ostrich feathers and ermine tails, was in the prettiest disorder, and no matter how deftly her fingers tucked up the curls, they fell down again about her shoulders.

Antonia sat back quickly so that Georgiana would not see her. Her heart was no longer singing, it was bleeding. Bleeding as if Savage had plunged a knife into it. A red mist obscured her vision as anger replaced anguish. She flung open the carriage door, ran up the steps, and hammered the brass knocker. The door was opened by a liveried servant almost immediately. Without saying a word she jabbed her closed parasol onto his foot so that he stepped back in surprised pain. When he did so, she swept past him, straight through the reception hall, and up the stairs.

Adam Savage was in his office and looked up with annoyance at the intrusion. The annoyance didn’t leave his face when he saw who it was. She had flaunted, his orders to stay in Ireland until the end of the week, barely giving him time to dispose of Bernard Lamb.

“Tony, this is a surprise—though it shouldn’t be, knowing you as I do.”

“I’ll bet it’s a bloody surprise! You are nothing but a lecherous swine.”

He arose from the desk and came toward her. “Why are you angry with me? It should be the other way about, sweetheart.”

“Don’t sweetheart me!” She spied a scrap of blue feather on the carpet and pointed her parasol dramatically. “That’s why I’m angry! You left me at the back of beyond because you had pressing business in London. Pressing Georgiana Merrylegs to the mattress!”

His eyes were filled with amusement. “Darling, you’re jealous. Georgiana was here because she owes so much money, she’s in queer street.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m angry!” she spat.

His strong brown hands closed about her arms. “You’ve never made love while you’re angry. You have a revelation in store.” His voice was deep, persuading.

“Just because I let you make love to me in Ireland, you think I came running after you and here I stand with my little bowl held out, asking for more.”

Her fragrance filled his senses. “Mmm, let me give you more.” His hands closed on her bottom and he rubbed her against his loins as he hardened to marble.

“Take your hands off me. I can only imagine where they’ve just been,” she snapped angrily.

“Your imagination is so inventive, darling, it’s one of the things I adore about you.” He swept the papers from his desk and lifted her to sit upon it.

“Stop this, you whoremonger!”

“All in my past, I swear.” He dipped his dark head to take her scarlet mouth, but she leaned back away from him, her eyes flashing fire. The next moment her back was on the polished desk and he was looming over her like a predator about to devour its prey. She was seething with anger. His gaze licked over her like a blue candle flame. “I’ve never seen you in yellow before. It’s your color, my
beauty. This moment you are so vivid and exotic, you stop my breath.”

She drew up her knees to jab him in the solar plexus. “I’ll stop your bloody lying breath!” She panted.

“I want you while you’re angry. I want you spitting and clawing at me.” His voice was low, intense, seductive as black velvet. He swept her into his arms and carried her toward his bedroom.

“Put me down!” she demanded. His nearness, his male-scented skin, stirred her desire so that her body began to tingle with anticipation despite her blazing anger. This only fueled her fury. Now she was angry at herself as well as him.

His lips were on her throat. “You are hotter and tighter when you are angry,” he murmured. “When you scream a curse at me, your sheath will tighten further on my shaft until it bucks and rears like a stallion being broken to the saddle. Hold on to your anger, darling, and I’ll give you the wildest ride of your life.” He laid her on the bed and she began to struggle madly. Her struggles succeeded in arousing her further, while he reveled in them.

“I don’t want to tear this lovely yellow outfit, so just hold still until I have you naked, then you can continue to writhe and seethe.” His teasing voice was so seductive, clearly telling her how exciting he found her, that she began to doubt that he had made love to Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire. To her own chagrin she found herself lying still while he stripped her. Suddenly she remembered his answer when she’d asked him how he handled an unwilling woman. “I simply resort to the fine art of seduction.” She went weak with longing. She was about to be seduced by him and she suddenly knew she wanted to experience the Leopard’s hypnotic seduction. She would continue to spit fire at him, while he persuaded, enticed, lured, and blandished her to give him exactly what he desired.

He spread her dusky curls across the pillows. “You’ve
never looked as beautiful as you do at this moment,” he began.

All sex was a fine art to Adam Savage. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” she hissed.

“Flattery will get me exactly where I wish to be. Here.” He showed her by cupping her mons and thrusting a finger up inside her.

“You bastard!” she cried.

“Mmm, you contract so tightly on my finger when you shout, I can’t wait to feel what you do to my erection.”

Neither could she. She bit her lips to keep herself from screaming with excitement. “Surely you’re far too busy for this,” she said scathingly.

“I can’t think of a more productive way to spend an afternoon than making love to you.”

“I prefer making love at night, when it’s dark.”

“Liar,” he said, removing his shirt and trousers, “you like to see me naked in broad daylight.” He sat down on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes and said over his shoulder, “Anyway, I’m busy tonight.”

He felt the impact immediately as she flew at his back to rake his flesh with her nails. “Sheath your claws, you little wildcat, before I maul you.” He sprang at her, forcing her facedown on the bed, while he straddled her. Then he lifted her long silken tresses aside so he could nip and bite the back of her neck.

For a moment she thought he was growling, but as her ears became accustomed to the strange noise, it actually sounded as if the Leopard were purring. A shock ran down the entire length of her back and she arched up beneath him. He arched his body over hers, going up on his hands and knees. He knew she would do the same. The moment she did, every part of her was vulnerable to him. His long, thick man-root unerringly sought the hot, dark cave, where he entered boldly. She closed her sheath over the swollen head, far too tight for him to gain full penetration from this angle. Then his palms cupped her
breasts and his calloused thumbs stroked their hardening peaks until her sheath produced a pearl of moisture.

His lips began to nibble her ear and his love words became blatantly erotic, telling her just exactly how her sugared sheath felt upon the marble head and thickly ridged shaft as he inched inside her. The pearl drops were forming rapidly now, making her slippery enough to anchor deeply.

When she was love slick, his firm hands grasped her slim waist so that when he thrust forward he could pull her backward at the same time. The impact as he thudded into her was indescribable. His strong hands thrust her forward each time he withdrew and she was so tightly sheathed about him, his foreskin was drawn up the ridged shaft in hot friction.

Her cries mingled with his low, raw moans as he drove hard into her fully aroused body. Their passion was hot, wild, and swift. She clawed and tore the bedcover to shreds as they climaxed together hard and strong. He collapsed on top of her as their liquid tremors went on and on and on. When the last faint, delicious spasm was spent, he rolled with her until they were on their sides. His large body curved tenderly around hers.

“God, Tony, I love you so much, how could you even think I’d look at another? You are my woman.”

Was he telling her the truth, or telling her what she wanted to hear? He made her feel so divine, at this moment she didn’t care.

He stroked her hair. “What we have is rare.” He drew in a harsh, shuddering breath as her long, silky legs touched his. Compared with other women she was like a fine crystal goblet among thick glass jars.