Whisper To Me of Love (17 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Whisper To Me of Love
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Chambers appeared at the doorway suddenly, obviously, from the wary look on his face, having learned from Pip what had transpired. Royce glanced at his butler and then, looking at Wetherly, said levelly, “I'm pleased you enjoyed yourself. Chambers will show you the way out.”
There was a peculiar silence after Chambers had escorted Wetherly and Stafford from the dining room. George broke it by murmuring, “A deucedly nasty pair of fellows. Can't think why you invited 'em to the house.”
Dryly Royce commented, “I didn't—they just sort of came along, and at the time it seemed less trouble to have them underfoot than to shake free of them.”
George nodded slowly. Looking across at Atwater, his usually sleepy expression replaced by anxiety, he asked, “Think there will be a lot of talk? Wouldn't want Royce to be troubled by a lot of nonsense.”
Atwater shrugged. “I'm sure they will waste no time telling the Earl what happened, and if he can twist the story to make Royce appear in a bad light, I'm positive that he will. However, I believe the entire sordid incident will blow over.”
“Perhaps,” said Newell, his dark eyes thoughtful. “I wonder, though, if there is any real danger that Stafford will carry out his threat and challenge Royce to a duel.”
Royce snorted. “Gentlemen! I appreciate your concern, but I'm not worried about the likes of Rufe Stafford! If he wants to spread this tawdry little tale from one end of London to the other, it doesn't bother me—after all,
he
was the one caught making advances to my servant! And as for meeting him in a duel, it is out of the question.”
“Why?” George asked interestedly.
“Is Stafford particularly noted for his skill with either the sword or the pistol?” Royce asked patiently.
George shook his head, and Royce smiled. “And would you characterize my expertise with both weapons as trifling?”
As George remembered how many wafers Royce had effortlessly notched one morning last week at Manton's Shooting Gallery, as well as his deadly grace with the rapier, his anxious expression vanished and he smiled sheepishly. “Forgot!” he said unabashedly. “You're right—wouldn't be fair for you to meet him.”
The four gentlemen continued talking for a few minutes longer, and then Ponteby, Atwater, and Newell took their leave of Royce and headed to their various establishments to change for whatever evening's amusements they had planned. Shutting the door firmly behind them, Royce hesitated for a long moment in the elegant foyer, thinking over the scene with Pip.
Had it been just coincidence, he wondered uneasily, that Wetherly and Stafford had attached themselves to himself and his friends this afternoon? Or had it been deliberate? And was it just an accident that Stafford had found Pip alone in the dining room, or had Stafford been purposely searching for her? His face grim, Royce stared unseeingly up the winding staircase. Had the one-eyed man decided to take a different tack? Could Stafford have been working at his direction? Stafford
had
attempted to get Pip out of the house—first with his improper suggestion and then by offering to buy her.... It wasn't only thieves in the night who constituted a threat to Pip's safety. Wanting to reassure himself that she had suffered no harm from Stafford's handling, he went in search of her.
When Pip had escaped from the ugly scene in the dining room, she had been too angry at Stafford and too relieved by Royce's timely interference to think very clearly. Furiously scrubbing her mouth with the back of her hand as if to wipe away the foul taste of Stafford's kiss, she had dashed into the kitchen and, ignoring the interested stares of the other servants, had spoken quietly to Chambers, giving him a brief report of what had just transpired. Chambers's shocked exclamation and his speedy exit from the kitchen had caused a raised eyebrow or two, but when it became apparent that Pip was not going to tell the others what she had told him, they turned their attentions to whatever tasks they had been doing before her sudden entrance in their midst.
Ivy, however, gave her an inquiring look, and Pip walked over to her side near the big, black stove, where she was busy cooking a lemon-brandy sauce for tomorrow's custard. In a low undertone, Pip quickly related all that she had told Chambers. When she finished speaking, Ivy looked at her closely and asked with concern, “Are you all right? The gentleman didn't hurt you?”
Pip flashed her a brief smile. “I think your sympathy should be with him—he's the one who had a tureen of hot soup dumped on his head!”
Ivy frowned. “I just hope that you are not blamed for what happened. The gentry can be such fools at times!”
Pip was on the verge of asking her what she meant when Ivy dismissed her by saying briskly, “Well, there is no help for it, and for the time being, I think I'll keep you busy in the kitchen. Go help Alice in the scullery.”
It was only then, as she helped Alice wash and scour the dirty dishes and pots, that Pip had time to actually think about what had happened in the dining room.
She hadn't been frightened when she saw one of the gentlemen coming into the room, although she had been a little nervous. She hadn't been a servant for very long, and this would be the first time all the lessons that had been drilled into her the past few days by the other servants would be put to the test. But there had been something about the gentleman, something about the furtive way that he had entered the room and the pleased expression that had suddenly flashed across his face when he had seen her, that had made her uneasy. Telling herself she had lived among thieves too long, she had smiled brightly and asked, “May I help you, sir? Is there something I can get for you?”
The gentleman was expensively dressed, his cravat as white and rigidly starched as the ones worn by Royce and Zachary, and the cut of his coat bespoke fine tailoring, yet there was something about him that continued to make Pip edgy. His smile was a little too oily, the gleam in the brown eyes a bit too pronounced, and his tone of voice ... There had been
such
satisfaction in his voice, such sordid meaning in his tone, when he had said, “Oh, I'm quite certain that there are several ways that you could help me, my dear.” Pip had been instantly on her guard.
When he had propositioned her, when the import of his vulgar offer had sunk into her brain, Pip's first reaction had been astonishment. In fact, she had been so astonished by the notion that this utter stranger seemed to be laboring under the assumption that she might
like
his attentions that she had very nearly giggled. But when he had taken hold of her arm and had repeated his suggestion, any desire to giggle had been instantly banished. And she certainly had not felt like giggling when he had put his wet mouth against hers!
Even now, thinking of it made her stomach lurch. Not even recalling the look on his face when she had dumped the tureen of soup over his head and had used her knee to further emphasize her displeasure with his actions could dispel her feeling of having been sullied in some indefinable way. His kiss had been horrible, and she shuddered slightly. To think that he had actually thought she would be flattered by his attentions!
Putting the plate down on a nearby counter, she picked up another, her thoughts automatically flying to Royce and the odd excitement she had felt when she had heard his voice and had looked around to see him rushing into the room. A dreamy little smile curved her mouth. He had been magnificent! Those tiger eyes full of fury, the lean, hard face angry and intent, and the aura of danger that had radiated from his tall, powerful body had taken Pip's breath away. Now, if
he
had been the one to kiss her ... A flush seared its way up across her cheeks, and almost angrily she wiped the plate in her hand. What a fool she was! It was thoughts like those that would put her feet irrevocably on the path her mother had trod, and Pip found the idea of selling herself to whichever gentleman took her fancy utterly distasteful.
Not that she condemned her mother! Lord, no! Jane had lived her life as she had seen fit, and Pip would have been the last one to sit judgment on her, but even if Pip had long ago come to grips with her mother's way of life, that didn't mean she wanted to live the same way. Her lips curved ruefully. It was rather strange, actually, that none of Jane's children were particularly interested in pursuing the life their mother had shown them. Jacko wanted to be a farmer, and Ben, well, Ben had always been fascinated with horses, and Pip suspected that given half a chance, he would be blissfully content doing anything that allowed him to move among the glossy-coated four-legged creatures he so admired.
And as for herself ... She frowned. What
did
she want out of life? Her mouth twisted. For the present she would settle for escaping permanently from the one-eyed man! And after that? Her little face thoughtful, she absently reached for another plate. St. Giles didn't encourage dreams, but if there was a dream that Pip cherished, it was one of respectability. She didn't know how she was to obtain it, but if there was ever a chance to leave behind her squalid past, to live like
normal
people, she knew she would leap at it. Deep in her heart she hungered for the conventional life that Chambers and Ivy led, almost envied them their stolid respectability. Since she had been too busy living by her wits, thoughts of love and marriage had never entered her head, but she suddenly found herself wishing desperately that somewhere there were a man—a
good
man, a respectable man—who wouldn't care a fig about whether her parents had been married or about what she had done before she met him. She wanted a man who would love her for what she
could
be, one who would sanctify their union by marriage and allow her to experience all the placid domesticity that had escaped her so far. A grin flitted across her face. Well, perhaps, not
too
placid! She sobered, realizing the futility of her dreams. She'd just have to content herself with Jacko's dream of going to America. But if they achieved the impossible and managed to reach America, would she really be happy working on a farm with her brothers for the rest of her life?
If they owned a farm,
Jacko
would be happy, and if the farm had horses on it, then
Ben
would be happy, but what about her? Would that sort of life make her happy? Yes, she admitted helplessly,
if
that life had a man like Royce Manchester in it! The thought had slid so slyly into her mind that she had been unable to suppress it, and she gasped at her own audacity. Who was she to think that someone as wealthy and respectably connected, someone as sophisticated as Royce Manchester, would ever be willing to offer someone like her more than the occasional sharing of his bed?
Pip had no illusions. Men like Royce really only had one use for women like her, and that was as their mistresses. Was that how it had been for her mother? she wondered sickly. Had her mother met a man whom she had wanted under any circumstances, and when that man was finished with her, had she been so heartbroken, so devastated, that it hadn't mattered what happened to her after that? It frightened Pip and made her angry to think that her infatuation with Royce Manchester might lead her to fall into the same trap her mother had, fall into it and end her days in the same pitiful way. She took a deep breath. She wasn't going to let
that
happen! No more silly fancies, she vowed grimly. None!
It was most unfortunate for her peace of mind that Chambers came to the doorway of the scullery just then and said quietly, “Pip, the master would like to see you in the library.”
C
HAPTER
10
P
ip's eyes were huge as she stared at him. “Why?” she asked breathlessly. Something Ivy had said earlier suddenly assumed great significance and she blurted out, “He isn't angry with me, is he? He doesn't think it was my fault, does he?”
Chambers could only shrug his shoulders. “I really can't say, my dear. He merely requested your presence.”
“Oh,” she said blankly, certain that she was going to be met by a very angry man. Leaving the safety of the kitchen, she grimaced. What did it matter? Every time she was in his vicinity, all her good intentions to keep a civil tongue in her mouth vanished. If he wasn't angry, she thought mournfully, he certainly would be by the time she opened her mouth a few times and spoke without thinking. It shouldn't have mattered to her that he might be angry with her, but it did—quite a bit—and she sighed. If only he were not so very intriguing, or so very handsome, she thought bleakly. And if only just the mere idea of seeing him didn't make her heart beat in the most alarming manner!
Angry at herself and just a little resentful at the power Royce seemed to wield over her wayward emotions, with a decided lack of enthusiasm, Pip made her way to the library. Reminding herself again of her mother's fate, her soft mouth set in a determined line, she knocked on the double doors and, at Royce's command, entered the room.
Of all the rooms of the house, this one was Pip's favorite. It was a long, narrow room, with a wide fireplace at one end. The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with leather-bound books of various hues, and a row of tall windows looked out over the tiny rose garden at the rear of the house. A softly colored Axminster carpet covered a portion of the gleaming wooden floors in front of the fireplace, and several comfortable red leather chairs, a black damask sofa, and a few satinwood tables were scattered across the carpeted area.
Today, however, Pip's delight in the room was subdued, and deliberately keeping her eyes downcast, unwilling to let herself even look at Royce, she quickly crossed the room to stand in front of him as he lounged near the fireplace. “You wanted to see me, sir?” she asked stiffly.
Royce let his gaze travel slowly over her slender form, thinking, not for the first time, that she really needed some other piece of attire than his cook's castoff garment. Not that she didn't look charming in the faded blue and white gingham, it was just that Royce wondered what she would look like in fine muslins and gossamer silks or ... wearing nothing at all....
Startled by the positively indecent pictures that flashed through his brain, he forcibly brought himself back to the matter at hand and his stunning reaction to the tableau that had met his eyes in the dining room such a short time ago.
Royce had never experienced the savage emotions that had exploded through him at the sight of Pip in Stafford's embrace. He had been furious, outraged that another man had dared to touch her—touch her in ways he had only dreamed of. And he had been shocked to realize that mixed in with this fury and rage had been a powerful sensation of possession—Pip was
his,
and only
he
should have the right to taste that provocatively shaped mouth! It had only been by the greatest exertion of effort that he had been able to keep his hands off Stafford, and not even Pip's obvious dislike of the situation and her subsequent retaliations against Stafford had stilled Royce's strong desire to inflict grievous punishment upon the other man. Just remembering Stafford's hands on Pip made his temper rise, and his voice harsher than he meant it to be, he said, “I wanted to talk to you about this evening. Explain to me, please, what occurred before I entered the room.”
Reacting to his tone of voice, Pip stiffened angrily, and Ivy's words ringing unpleasantly in her mind, she answered tersely, “There is nothing to explain—I was clearing the buffet when that creature came in and grabbed me. You saw the rest.” Her eyes locked on Royce's brilliantly shined Hessian boots. “May I leave now? There are things that I have to do in the kitchen.”
“No, goddammit, you may not leave!” Royce said explosively, both her words and her manner unexpectedly infuriating him. “What the hell is the matter with you?
I'm
not the one who assaulted you!”
Guiltily conscious of the truth of his words, Pip smothered the heartfelt apology that hovered on her lips. Grimly she reminded herself that it was far better that he think her an ungrateful, sullen little wretch than to have him being
nice
to her. Angry, she could keep him at a distance, but otherwise ... Otherwise, she admitted miserably, she found him far too attractive. Taking a deep breath, she asked stonily, “Is that all, sir?”
Resisting the urge to shake her silly, Royce fought his temper under control and forced himself to act with his usual calm. Yet unable to keep himself from touching her, he reached out with one hand and gently tipped up her face. His compelling eyes stared down into hers. “Are you all right?” he asked softly. “He didn't hurt you in any way, did he?”
At his touch, light though it was, Pip felt a funny little quiver in the pit of her stomach, and helplessly she looked up at him. “I'm fine; he didn't hurt me.”
His fingers unconsciously caressing the smooth skin of her jaw, Royce's gaze roamed with blatant pleasure over her features, missing nothing, from the curly, black hair that framed her face to the heavily fringed smoky gray eyes and the almost pouting fullness of her rosy mouth. His eyes locked on her lower lip, he admitted in a low voice, “It's as well for him that you say so.... Otherwise, I think I might be driven to kill him.”
Pip wanted to move away—he was standing much too close for her peace of mind, his big body nearly touching hers—but she could not seem to force herself to move. She was unbearably conscious of his hard, muscled length scant inches from her, painfully conscious of the strange drumming in her blood as each second passed and he continued to stare at her. Mesmerized by the rhythmic motion of his fingers on her skin, she watched him wordlessly, aware of the danger of this sudden intimacy, but unable to break away from him. As the moments spun by, feeling some comment was required of her, she said huskily, “Then I'm glad I can set your mind at ease—I would not want his death on my conscience.”
Royce, too, was aware of the inherent risks of their situation, but like Pip, he could not seem to bring himself to shatter the moment. Beneath his fingers, her skin was warm and soft, and that sweet mouth, that sweet mouth which had haunted his dreams unceasingly these past days, was so temptingly near. Warning himself that it would be both dishonorable and cavalier to give in to the growing desire to taste that mouth, to crush that slender body against his own, Royce nobly tried to focus his thoughts on something else other than Pip's tantalizing charms, and almost desperately he seized upon another subject. He did not, however, move away from her, nor did he stop the gentle, feather-light movements of his fingers along her cheek as he murmured, “Have you heard from your brothers?”
Pip blinked, so lost in the sweet beguilement of his softly stroking fingers that it took a second for his words to register. Gathering her scattered thoughts about her, she answered, “No, I haven't.” A thought occurred to her and she asked, “Have you seen them again?”
Royce frowned slightly. “No, I haven't, but I don't believe it is cause for alarm, do you?”
Pip shook her head. “They know I'm safe, and they wouldn't want the one-eyed man to learn that they have been loitering in this vicinity. I suspect that I will hear something from them soon, though.” She grinned. “Even if they have to rob you to get a message to me!”
Royce smiled at her words. There was no need to prolong the conversation between them, yet he found himself reluctant to end it. Seizing on the first thing that crossed his mind, he asked lightly, “And how are you doing under Chambers's tutelage?”
“Well, I haven't broken anything yet, and he says that I am a quick learner,” she answered dryly.
Royce grinned. “I must tell you that Chambers is positively astonished at how quickly you have managed to rid yourself of your, er, colorful way of talking. He tells me every day how much you have improved.”
Pip laughed, a sparkle in the gray eyes. “Well, you
did
tell me to drop the accent,” she replied demurely.
His smile gone, his voice suddenly husky, he muttered, “And will you always obey me so readily?”
Pip's mouth was suddenly dry, her heart hammering in her breast, as the earlier dangerously seductive quality to their situation returned without warning. Her gray eyes locked with his and she found herself saying breathlessly, “I-I-I don't kn-kn-know; I think it would depend upon what y-y-you asked of me.”
Neither seemed capable of breaking the sensual spell that was weaving itself so insidiously around them. His voice deepening, Royce murmured, “I wonder what you would do if I made the sort of offer that Stafford presented to you.” One hand still caressing her face, the other moved to where it gently cradled her dark head, his fingers moving seductively through her black curls. “Would you, I wonder, react the same way?”
Her heart nearly stood still at his words, and a slow, treacherous excitement slid deliciously through her slender body. This was madness, she thought wildly with one part of her brain, I must escape, and yet ... and yet there was a part of her that found this moment too intriguing, too hypnotizing, to break away. Her eyes huge in her small face, her lips unconsciously inviting, Pip stared mesmerized up at his dark features. In a throaty voice that sounded nothing like her own, she asked recklessly, “Are you saying you want me for your mistress?”
“I'm saying,” Royce admitted bluntly, “that you are driving me half-mad and that if I don't kiss you, I think I shall very definitely go
completely
mad!”
Giving her no chance to reply, as if he could stand it no longer, Royce crushed her slim shape against him, his lips hungrily finding hers. His mouth was hard and seeking against hers, his kiss both demanding and coaxing as his lips moved with a carnal explicitness on hers. This was no innocent kiss of first love, this was a man's kiss, a man whose desires had been kept too long in check, and Pip's fervently virginal response was not what he was seeking. Against her stunned mouth, he muttered thickly, “Sweet Jesus, open your mouth to me! Let me ... I must ...”
But Royce was too driven by the almost frantic desire to kiss her fully, to take possession of her mouth, that he could not wait for her to obey. He had hardly uttered the words before his fingers caught her chin and gently pulled downward, forcing her lips to open slightly. It was all he needed, and with a half groan, half sigh, he boldly took what was so helplessly offered, his tongue plunging deeply into her mouth.
For one mad moment Pip reveled in his kiss, and then the terrifying knowledge of where this could take them flooded icily through her. From here it would be a simple step to become his lover, his plaything, and she retained just enough sanity to resist. Frantically pushing against his shoulders, she twisted her mouth away from the intoxicating pleasure of his kiss. “Don't!”
Gripped by the most intense desire he had ever felt in his life, Royce murmured dazedly, “What? Don't kiss you? Don't hold you in my arms like this? You ask the impossible of me, sweetheart.”
His lips gently caressed her temple and cheek, his breath warm and exciting on her flesh, and Pip felt her resistance crumbling. It was only a kiss, she told herself fiercely. Surely she could allow herself the pleasure of his kiss without losing her head completely ... just this once!
She looked up at him, her pulse thudding wildly through her body at the expression in his eyes, and then his mouth touched hers and she was lost. Drowning in the explicitly hungry demand, Pip could deny him nothing, her mouth accommodating the searching thrust of his tongue, her arms coming up to hold him nearer, her fingers unconsciously clenching against his broad back as her young, aroused body pressed eagerly into him. Totally oblivious to anything but Royce's big body and the mindless pleasure of being in his arms and experiencing the uncompromising passion of his kiss, Pip could not even think, she could only feel. Feel the smooth fabric of his jacket beneath her fingers, feel the strength and warmth of his body as it pressed against her, and feel the erotic abrasion of his tongue as he thoroughly and passionately explored the sweet confines of her mouth.
As Royce continued to kiss her so hungrily, his one hand holding her head captive, the other sliding determinedly down her back to cup her buttocks and draw her even nearer, Pip was dimly aware that her body was reacting with a mind of its own and she swayed in his embrace, unconsciously rubbing against him. Her breasts were straining beneath the soft fabric of her gown, and she knew a mad desire to bare them to his gaze ... and touch. A shudder went through her at the image of Royce touching her naked breasts and she suddenly became achingly aware of the insistent throb between her legs. The sweet sensation of Royce's hand fondling her hips was undeniably arousing, but no more arousing than the aggressive thrust of his rigid shaft between their locked bodies. Even through their clothing she could feel his violent arousal, the heat and size of him, exciting her further as he held her still and deliberately urged her against him.

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