Wilde, Jennifer (3 page)

Was
I going to succumb to him? I still didn't know the answer to that question.

The
sun had almost disappeared as I stepped out of the gardens and locked the gate
behind me, walking across the street to number 10. As I stepped into the front
hall and closed the door, Millie came up from the shabby but comfortable
sitting room the servants shared below stairs. A friendly lass with a wide,
amiable mouth, freckled cheeks, and wide blue eyes, she had tarnished gold
curls and a stout, sturdy build.

"
'Ere you are, luv," she said. "I was beginnin' to worry 'bout you,
'deed I was. 'Ave a nice sit in them gardens?"

"It
was lovely," I replied.

"I
wager you're enjoyin' yourself this week without them kids. It's a relief, I'm
sure. That Doreen—some kiddies shoulda been put down at birth, an' that brat's
one of 'em. Now Master Reggie, 'e's a regular luv, 'e is, gentle as a lamb.
Can't imagine who 'e
takes
after." Millie shook her head, sighing
heavily. "Will you be wantin' a tray sent up?" she asked.

"I
think not, Millie. I'm not really hungry. I think I'll just go up to my room
and read a while."

"All
that readin'—can't be good for you. Don't know that I'd care to know how. You
go up now, luv. If you need anything, just let me know, you 'ear?"

I
smiled at the girl and moved on down the hall. Although technically I was
"above" the servants in station, I had always considered myself one
of them and had never given myself airs. As a result, I was very popular with
all of them. Jeffers, the butler, considered me his equal. Mrs. Branderson,
"Brandy," the housekeeper, loved to chat with me, and Cook always
sent special trays up. Without their friendship, life at number 10 would have
been uncomfortable indeed.

My
room was just off the nursery, completely isolated from the other rooms.
Jeffers, Brandy, and Cook had quarters in the basement. Millie and the other
maids slept in narrow little cubicles up in the attics, and the two footmen had
rooms over the carriage house with the groom and coachman. I enjoyed the
isolation, for it gave me a sense of privacy. The room was large, with windows
looking out over the mews in back of the house. If the furniture was second
best, everything a bit shabby and worn, it was still comfortable and snug.

The
light was almost gone now, its thin rays fading on the old blue and gray carpet
with its pattern of pink roses. I lighted the lamp and took off my dress,
hanging it up in the enormous mahogany wardrobe with its heavy door that never
shut properly. I removed shoes and stockings and, wearing only a white muslin
petticoat, took down my coronet of braids and shook them loose. Hair fell to my
shoulders in abundant red-brown waves, coppery highlights gleaming. Sitting in
front of the mirror, I brushed it until it gleamed even more, and then I put
the brush down and stared at the woman in the mirror.

The
petticoat was exceedingly low-cut, my breasts more than half revealed. The
bodice was form-fitting, the full, flaring skirt adorned with row upon row of
white ruffles. In this elegant garment, and with my hair falling about my
shoulders in such rich profusion, I looked totally unlike the demure Miss
Danver with her severe hair style and drab brown dress. Lord Mallory desired
me. He would desire me even more if he could see me like this, I thought, and
then I frowned, my blue eyes once again dark with concern. I left the dressing
table and moved over to sit in the large, comfortable pink chair in front of
the windows.

The
sky was ashy gray now, and the world below was etched in gray and black and dim
whites. The lamp was low, and shadows spread inside the room multiplying beyond
its softly diffused pool of light. I thought about Lord Mallory, and there was
a strange ambivalence that hadn't been there before. I detested him, I told
myself, yet I was undeniably attracted to him. I remembered that kiss. I
remembered his tall, strong body, his arms crushing me against him, and I
remembered the sensations that had exploded inside me like tiny buds blossoming.

Recalling
what he had said about my mother, I wondered, did I indeed take after her? I
was a virgin, and I had never even contemplated sleeping with a man before. I
was respectable and decent, yet, even though I hated him and everything he
stood for, I couldn't deny that I found Robert Mallory physically attractive. I
knew that I would never willingly submit to him, but if he took me by force
would I really be as distraught as I told myself I would be? Was I a shameless
creature for desiring him as I did? Surely women, decent women at least,
weren't supposed to be attracted to rakes like Robert Mallory. Perhaps there
was more of my mother in me than I realized.

Night
had fallen now, and now the black and gray and white was gilded with silver on
the rooftops, spilling down over the sides of houses. A cool breeze caused the
curtains to stir. They billowed into the room like waving white sails,
billowing, falling limp, billowing again. The breeze felt wonderful on my bare
arms and shoulders, for it had been a sultry day. The lamp flickered and went
out, the blossom of golden light vanishing abruptly. I didn't get up to light
it again. Weary, worried, I sat in the comfortable chair, drowsy already. I
closed my eyes, and in a few minutes I was fast asleep.

The
sound of footsteps awakened me. I had no idea how long I had been asleep, no
idea what time it might be. I sat up, startled, and then I felt panic grip me.
I recognized the footsteps. He had a long, lazy stride, and those tall black
knee boots he wore made a certain ring. I jumped to my feet. My heart was
pounding. Lord Mallory was in the country with his wife and children. It
couldn't be him, I told myself, but as the footsteps drew nearer, I knew I
wasn't mistaken.

Moonlight
spilled through the windows, and the room was filled with a hazy silver light,
every detail clear. The footsteps stopped outside the door of my room. Had I
locked it? No, no, of course I hadn't. I never locked it, for one of the
children might want something during the night. The children were gone now, but
their father was here, and he wanted something I was not prepared to give.
Paralyzed with fear, I stared at the door, saw the knob slowly turning, and
then the door opened and he stepped inside.

"Hello,
Marietta," he said, in a lazy drawl.

"You—"
I whispered.

"Surely
you were expecting me?"

"You're
supposed to be in the country. You took your wife and—"

"I
took her, yes, and I spent three dreary days with her, and then I suddenly
remembered a... uh... very important appointment. I took my leave of her with
proper reluctance. She and the children will stay on for several more days, but
I have other plans—" He glanced around the room. "Snug and cozy,
isn't it? Would you believe I've never been inside this room before? There was
never any reason. Nice furniture, I see, a nice, large bed."

"Lord
Mallory—"

He
closed the door behind him, and locked it.

"Nicely
located, too," he continued. "None of the servants could possibly
hear us. We can make as much noise as we please. We're going to have a grand
time, Marietta."

His
manner was exceedingly casual. He seemed almost bored. He wore the tall black
boots, snug black trousers and a loose-fitting white silk shirt open at the
throat, the sleeves very full and gathered at the wrists. In the moonlight I
could see his face: the familiar half-smile on his lips, lids drooping heavily
over glowing dark eyes. His thick brown hair was disarrayed, a fringe falling
across his brow. He looked like a handsome, ruthless buccaneer come to plunder
and despoil. My knees felt weak, and for a moment I thought I might actually
crumple at his feet.

"You're
trembling," he remarked. "Surely you aren't frightened?"

"Please
go away."

"You
don't want me to go away, Marietta."

"I've
never—"

He
arched an eyebrow. "No?"

"I—I'm
a decent woman. Please—please don't do this. I've never had... relations with a
man. I—"

"You
don't really expect me to believe that?"

"It's
true!"

Lord
Mallory laughed softly. "A man can sense things. I sensed what you were
immediately. The prim manner, the drab clothes never fooled me for a minute. If
I hadn't been... uh... preoccupied with Jenny, this visit would have come about
much sooner. Relax, Marietta—"

He
moved slowly toward me with panther-like grace, his dark eyes glittering. My
pulse leaped, and my heart was palpitating rapidly, so rapidly it seemed it
must burst at any moment. He stopped, standing very close to me, his hands
resting lightly on his thighs. I tried to speak, but my throat was dry and no
words would come. Lord Mallory studied me, savoring what he saw, those dark
eyes taking in every detail: the hair cascading about my shoulders, the low-cut
petticoat with the clinging bodice that left shoulders and most of my bosom
bare.

"Your
hair—your body. It's a crime to hide a body like that," he said. There was
a husky catch in his voice. "I've known a lot of women, but never one so
utterly superb—"

"Don't
touch me—"

"I'm
going to touch you all over, and you're going to love it."

Panic
overwhelmed me then. I tried to move past him toward the door. He seized my arm
and jerked me toward him. I struggled. He laughed huskily as he wrapped his
arms around me, holding me in front of him, my back against his chest. One arm
curled tightly around my waist, he lifted my hair and planted his lips against
the side of my neck. My flesh seemed to burn.

"Agatha
and the children will be in the country for another week," he murmured.
"We have seven full days, and I'm going to teach you things, Marietta,
wonderful things. You're going to be a most appreciative student—"

He
turned me around in his arms and then kissed me with that lazy deliberation
that seemed to cause liquid fire to spread through my veins. He cupped one
large hand around my breast, his strong fingers squeezing, kneading. I refused
to acknowledge the sensations sweeping over me. I had to stop him. That was all
I could think about. I had to stop him.

Certain
of victory, he released me. His lips were parted. Heavy lids almost concealed
his eyes. In the hazy silver light his face was all planes and angles, deeply
shadowed, evil, but also very handsome. Catching his thumbs in the straps of my
petticoat, he began to pull them down, ever so slowly, revealing more and more
firm, rounded flesh. He was in no hurry, no hurry at all. He wanted to savor
each second. He was like a man transported. Nothing existed for him now but his
throbbing manhood and the warm female flesh that would gratify its quickening
demands.

As
he stroked my breasts, pressing, probing, they seemed to have a life of their
own, swelling under his touch, flesh hardening. I gasped, and a weakness seemed
to sweep over me as he bent down to kiss each nipple. Now, now, I cried out
silently, I must stop it now... before it's too late. Lord Mallory straightened
up and made a soft, growling noise in his throat, clutching both my breasts in
his hands.

I
pulled back. I slapped his face with all the force I could muster. The sound it
made was like an explosion. Lord Mallory cried out, startled. My palm stung
viciously. I darted toward the door, fumbling with the key. I didn't know where
I would go, what I would do, but I knew I had to get out of this room as
quickly as possible.

He
grabbed my arm. He swung me violently across the room. I screamed, and he
clamped a hand over my mouth, chuckling to himself, not at all angry, delighted
that I intended to put up a fight. That would make it all the more interesting.

"So
that's the way you want to play?" he said. "All right, wench, that's
the way we'll play it!"

He
forced me over to the bed, shoving me down onto the soft mattress. I tried to
get up, and he shoved me back down again, eyes gleaming, lips spreading into a
rakish smile. I kicked his shin, and he shook his head as though I were a
naughty child. He slapped me across the face, his slap even more forceful than
my own had been. My ears rang; lights seemed to burst inside my head. I fell
back, sobbing, and Lord Mallory looked down at me with one brow arched high.

"Such
games we're going to play, wench. Such lovely games—"

"No!"
I cried. "No!"

"Scream
all you like. No one will hear."

And
then he was on top of me, crushing me, the weight of his body pinioning me. I
struggled, still I struggled, and he enjoyed that, smothering my protests with
his mouth, kissing me with a wild abandon that caused every fiber of my being
to quicken. He was on his knees now, one leg on either side of my thighs, and
he was still smiling. He pulled at my skirt, lifted it, exposing my legs.
Sobbing wretchedly, I tried to throw him off, but it was futile. He fumbled
with his trousers, and then he caught my wrists in his hands and held me
spread-eagled beneath him.

"No!"
I cried again.

He
laughed. He loomed over me, a dark demon bent on my destruction. I shook my
head back and forth, silently pleading. I tried to free my hands. He held them
in a brutal grip. Waves of panic rose and crashed over me, and I was trembling
all over.