14

Lisette tied the blue ribbons of her new lutestring bonnet and studied her reflection critically in the mirror. She looked far too pale for her liking, so she pinched her cheeks and added some rose lip paint her mother had given her. She heaved a sigh and buttoned herself into the matching lutestring pelisse.

The weather looked as changeable as her mood, but she decided that the invitation for a walk in the park with an intimate friend of Lord Swanfield was definitely worth the chance of a soaking. It had been two days since she had last seen or heard from him, and his silence was becoming ominous. She gathered up her reticule and gloves and made her way downstairs. Her father was stationed in the hall as if waiting for her to descend.

“Ah, there you are, my dear. Are you going out?”

“Lieutenant St. Clare asked me to go for a walk in the park with him and his cousin, Lucinda, the young lady we met at the ball. I thought I might ask her to visit us when Emily is in residence.”

“That’s an excellent idea.” Philip smiled and kissed her cheek, kissed her again and patted her shoulder.

“I was just trying to help, Papa.” Lisette eyed him uncertainly. “It’s not as if she’s the heir to the throne or anything.”

Philip’s smile was warm. “Just enjoy your walk, my dear, and give Lieutenant St. Clare my best.”

“I will.” Lisette headed for the front door just as the butler opened it to reveal a smiling Lieutenant St. Clare. “Good-bye, Papa.”

“And good morning, Miss Ross.” The lieutenant swept her a low bow and stepped aside to reveal his smaller companion. “Miss Ross, may I present my cousin, Lady Lucinda Haymore?”

Lisette held out her hand. “It is a pleasure to see you again, my lady.”

“Oh please, call me Lucinda, everyone does.” Lady Lu-cinda’s smile was warm and a little shy. “Well, apart from Paul, who calls me ‘Lucky.’”

Lieutenant St. Clare offered them both an arm and headed down the steps toward the flagstone pavement. “I promise I won’t call you that during your grand Season.”

“Thank you, I think.” The bashful glance Lady Lucinda shot at the lieutenant was full of awe. “It would be nice if it remained just between ourselves.”

Lisette wondered if Paul St. Clare knew that his cousin was a little in love with him. Was he the sort of man who would marry simply to avoid any scandal about his sexual preferences—or would he be brave and stay a bachelor? Lisette sensed that he wouldn’t want to hurt his cousin, who obviously held him in high affection.

Wind gusted around the corner and Lisette let go of Lieutenant St. Clare’s arm to grab at the brim of her bonnet. It wasn’t raining, but the sky was turning an unpleasant pewter gray, which threatened to obscure even the meager sunlight. They turned onto the main thoroughfare, and Lisette saw the green shimmer of the park up ahead.

A carriage and four horses rumbled slowly up the street behind them and Lieutenant St. Clare glanced back and maneuvered his cousin away from the curb. Lisette moved away by herself and was surprised when the lieutenant took her arm in a firm grip.

For a moment he stared down at her. “I’m sorry, Miss Ross.”

Before she could answer him, he picked her up. As she started to struggle, the carriage door flew open and a pair of gloved hands reached out and took her weight, bringing her inside the carriage. The door shut again and she tried to straighten, only to be brought back down to the floor and have a thick shawl thrown over her head. While she struggled to free herself, the carriage picked up speed and headed back down toward the river.

A heavy weight settled on her back, effectively pinning her to the floor. Was that his boot? Lisette set her teeth and counted the minutes until he would have to set her free. Her fingernails curled into her palms until they hurt, but not as much as they would hurt him when she launched herself at his face.

Time moved on, and she focused on steadying her breath and easing her position to avoid cramping her muscles. Eventually the carriage slowed, and she was lifted up and set on the seat. As soon as the shawl was plucked from her head, she went for him, claws at the ready, anger and fright bonded together into a rage she had never experienced before.

“Salaud! You charogne …”

Lord Swanfield fended her off far too easily and held her trapped in his grasp. She gave up trying to scratch out his eyes and tried to bite and kick instead. When her booted foot connected with his shin and he hissed out a curse, she felt a surge of pure joy.

“Lisette, stop it.”

“Why should I? You worm, you despicable rake, you …”

“I am all those things.” He agreed far too easily and yet he wasn’t laughing at her. “I am behaving appallingly.”

“Then take me home!” She wrenched herself free of his grasp and sat back with a thump on the seat opposite him, her breathing harsh and her mind in turmoil. How dare he snatch her from the street in broad daylight? And how quickly would someone raise the alarm and come and rescue her?

She raised her chin. “Where are we going?”

“To Scotland.” His gaze was steady, his hands linked together between his thighs. “We can marry there.”

“I am not going to marry you.”

He shrugged. But before she could say another word, he held up his hand. “Please, I’d rather wait until we stop for the night to have this out properly, wouldn’t you?”

She glared at him as he sat back and appeared to relax in his corner. The carriage was moving swiftly now, so she guessed they were on the main North Road. There would be little chance of escaping while they were traveling—or even when they were stopped. She recalled with dismay that Lord Swan-field moved rather fast for such a tall, indolent man.

With a sigh, she took off her mangled bonnet, angled her body into the corner of the seat, and glared at him. He appeared to be going to sleep, but she sensed it wouldn’t take much to wake him. She would spend the rest of their journey together imagining every horrible way she might torture him and had hoped he could see it in her eyes.

She awoke with a start to find herself being carried into an inn, her head again swathed in the black shawl, the rest of her held firmly in Lord Swanfield’s arms. She heard jovial voices and learned that they had been expected and that their rooms were ready. She clutched at Lord Swanfield’s shoulder as he adjusted his grip and started climbing the stairs. The landlord went ahead of him, sharing details of the dinner he would bring up and his hopes for the lady’s swift recovery.

“Thank you, Hodges, my wife suffers from carriage sickness. She will be perfectly fine after a bite to eat.”

“Thank you, my lord. Your dinner will be up shortly.”

The door shut behind the landlord and the black shawl was eased away from Lisette’s face. She allowed her head to fall onto Lord Swanfield’s shoulder and cuddled close.

“Ah, Lisette,” he murmured. “That’s better.”

She bit down hard on his earlobe and he dropped her so fast that she bounced on the bed before he came down over her, his expression extremely unfriendly.

“That hurt.”

“It was supposed to. Now let me up.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I will. You’re just going to go for me again.”

“So? What did you expect? A kiss?”

“Why not?” He fitted his mouth over hers and she nipped at his lip. He drew back and glared down at her. “If you want to sit up and eat your dinner like a civilized person, you have to promise not to hurt me anymore.”

“I’m not promising anything.”

“Then I’ll tie you to the bed, draw the covers over you, and feed you myself!”

She stared at him for a long moment. If he was willing to talk to her, there was still a chance she could make him change his mind. She wasn’t above using some female tricks of her own to get what she wanted.

“All right. Let’s call a truce until after we’ve eaten.”

He let out his breath and climbed off her, allowing her to sit up. Her hands went to her hair. “How am I supposed to make myself look civilized when you have treated me like a sack of potatoes?”

He indicated a small dressing table in the corner of the room and a discreet screen. “There are brushes on the table and warm water in the jug, as well as the necessary. Please help yourself.”

“While you watch?”

A smile flickered on his face. “As long as you don’t try and jump out of the window, I’m not going to stand over you while you relieve yourself, if that is what you mean.”

She shuffled off the bed. Her left knee was aching badly and she stumbled. He caught her in an instant.

“What’s wrong?”

She bit her lip. “When you flung me onto the floor of the carriage I banged my knee. I’m sure it will be fine shortly.”

“Let me see.”

He sat down on the bed, put her on his lap, and pulled up her skirts and petticoats. Lisette tried to slap his hand away as it closed over her ruined stocking and pulled that down, too. “Lord Swanfield!”

He ignored her, his fingers gentle as he discovered the rapidly blackening bruise on her knee. He bent his head and kissed it. “God, I’m sorry, Lisette. I never meant to hurt you.”

She shoved at his shoulder and slid out of his lap. “Then you shouldn’t have abducted me, should you?”

He stayed on the bed as she hobbled over toward the dressing table. With another forbidding glance over her shoulder, she went behind the screen to do what was necessary and then returned to wash her hands and face and contemplate the ruin of her hairstyle in the faded, rust-spotted mirror.

With a sigh, she started unpinning her hair and then set about brushing it using the silver-backed brush and comb set out on the dressing table. Her head was aching, so rather than attempt an elaborate style without the aid of her maid, she twisted her hair back into a simple knot at the back of her neck and pinned it deftly into place.

By the time she finished, there was the distinct sound of activity in the hallway and the aroma of cooked food wafted under the door. Lisette realized she had no idea what time it was, only that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast time and it was now dark outside. A knock on the door signaled the arrival of dinner and Lisette waited as two maids brought in the food and laid it out on the small table beside the fire.

“We’ll bring up some tea in a while, my lady,” the younger of the two women said shyly.

Lisette smiled. “Thank you, I would appreciate that, and also anything you might have to ease my headache.”

Lord Swanfield frowned. “You are still unwell?”

Lisette ignored him and concentrated her attention on the serving maids, who were whispering together.

“Mrs. Hodges has a tisane she brews herself, my lady. Would you like to try that?”

“Yes, please, but there is no hurry, bring it up with the tea.”

“Yes, my lady.” The maids curtsied and left them alone.

Lord Swanfield stood up and bowed. “My lady?” He held out a chair for her.

“I am not your lady.”

He sighed and took his seat. “I thought we weren’t going to fight until after we’d eaten.”

“No, I said I wouldn’t injure you. Verbal sparring is perfectly acceptable.”

“May I serve you some beef?”

“No, thank you.”

He applied himself to the meal, heaping his own plate with the pigeon pie, cold beef, and roasted potatoes. Without comment, he poured two glasses of the red wine and slid one across to Lisette. She was too hungry to object and settled to eating without complaint, finishing her meal with some stewed apples and clotted cream.

A knock on the door heralded the arrival of one of the serving maids with coffee, a pot of tea, and another mug containing a pale green herbal brew.

“Mrs. Hodges says drink it while it’s hot.”

“I will and please thank her for me,” Lisette replied. She picked up the earthenware mug and inhaled the scent of chamo-mile and willow bark. She sipped cautiously at the brew, found it sweetened with honey, and took another swallow.

Lord Swanfield helped himself to coffee and then sat watching her as he drank it. Lisette closed her eyes and allowed the aroma of chamomile to soothe her disordered senses.

“Are you all right, Miss Ross?”

“For a man who has just brutally abducted me, you sound remarkably concerned.”

He sighed. “I never meant to hurt you. You must know that.”

She opened her eyes. “And my original answer still stands: then don’t kidnap me.”

He looked remarkably unrepentant. “But it was the only way I could have you.”

She put the mug down. “I already told you that if I am pregnant, I’ll let you know and we can take up our discussion again.”

“But what if you aren’t sure for four or five months? Some women aren’t. My mother was so ignorant she had no idea she was with child until the butler noticed the size of her belly.” He leaned forward and stared down at his linked fingers. “What if you are pregnant and we don’t marry until you are that far along? Everyone will know that our child was conceived out of wedlock.”

“So what?”

He reached for her hand and held it between his. “Lisette, we both know how it feels to be gossiped about. Would you really want to inflict that on our child?”

She thought back to the insults of the other children at the orphanage, the fights she and Christian had gotten into, the subtle dislike of the nuns and the snubs from the cream of English society … “But I might not be pregnant.”

“I know. It is a difficult decision, isn’t it?”

He sounded so reasonable and sympathetic she found herself tempted to agree with him. And there was something to be said for a man who stood by his responsibilities….

But he had abducted her. She forced a sigh. “It is hard to be wanted for only one reason.”

“What do you mean?”

She pulled out of his grasp. “You only asked to marry me because you feared I carried your child.”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing. My father was right. No woman wants to feel that she is merely a brood mare.”

“I don’t think of you in those terms, in fact—”

“And what happens when you have your heir? Will I be forced to give you a dozen other children as well?”

His blue eyes narrowed and a sense of satisfaction blossomed within her as his voice rose.

“Miss Ross. I swore never to marry and never to have a child and the fact that I am contemplating doing both says more about how I feel about you than you could ever imagine!”

She looked at him through her eyelashes. “I don’t believe you.”

He shot to his feet, reached across the table and picked her up, marched over to the bed, and dropped her on it. She pretended to struggle while he rucked up her skirts and wedged his wide shoulders between her thighs.

“Believe this.”

His mouth descended over her sex and he licked at her clit, his tongue swirling and stabbing between her folds until she was wet and arching up against him. He drew back, his mouth wet with her juices, his eyes intent. “I want to lick your cunt every day, slide my fingers deep, and make you come so hard you scream my name and beg for my cock. Does that sound like I am marrying you for your breeding capabilities?”

She gasped as he slid two fingers inside her and worked them back and forth. His intent gaze flicked between her face and his fingers. She tried to reach for him, to dig her nails into his skin so that he would feel what he was doing to her. He added two more fingers and used the palm of his hand to torment her clit as he slammed into her.

“Gabriel …” She moaned.

He stopped, his fingers embedded deep and his palm cupping her mound. “Tell me you believe me now. Tell me this is what you want.”

His mouth returned to add to her torment and she could no longer stop her climax flooding through her. He held himself still as she arched against his hand, waited for her to go still, and then licked her clit again.

She tried to pull away from his tongue but there was nowhere for her to go. Without removing his fingers from inside her, he unbuttoned his breeches with his left hand and climbed carefully onto the bed. He straddled her so that his head was parallel with hers. She grabbed at his hair and pulled it hard.

“Marriage isn’t just about sex either, though, is it? Just because we do this well together doesn’t mean we should get married.”

He gazed down at her. “You can do without this?” He reached down to grasp his cock and knelt up until he was able to brush the swollen wet crown against her lips. “You think another man can make you feel like this?”

She clung to his arm. “I don’t know! It’s possible.”

His eyes widened and he bent to kiss her, his mouth possessing hers so completely that she could do nothing but accept him and kiss him back. When he pulled away she was shaking and so was he.

“I can’t do without that, Lisette. I can’t think of anyone but you. I want it all.”

She studied him carefully and tried to control her ragged breathing. “I’m not eloping with you.”

He sucked in a breath and then stared at her until all traces of emotion were removed from his face. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to take me back to London.”

He rolled away from her and rebuttoned his breeches, walked across to the abandoned dinner table, and poured himself another glass of red wine. What was he supposed to do now? Abandon his plan or allow it to unfold as he’d wanted it to, without the surety of her marrying him at the end of it?

He had no choice. In truth, there was already the sound of a commotion in the hall below. He walked across to the fireplace and turned to face the door as it flew open to reveal Christian Delornay, a pistol in his hand and a murderous expression on his face.

“Swanfield, you bastard.”

“Ah, Mr. Delornay-Ross. Please come in and shut the door.”

An explosion of petticoats on the bed meant that Lisette had righted herself.

“Christian, what on earth are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you, I believe.” Christian nodded at his twin. “After I’ve taken care of this blaggard, of course.”

Gabriel scowled. “I’m not fighting you.”

Christian uncocked the pistol. “That’s all right, because you’re not enough of a gentleman to waste a bullet on. I’d rather just shoot you in the back like the coward you are.”

“I’m no coward either. Unlike you, I’m simply concerned for your sister’s reputation. Fighting a duel over her will scarcely help.”

“Strange how you’ve suddenly thought about that,” Christian sneered. “Now that you’ve been caught abducting her.”

Gabriel took a step toward Delornay. “I want to marry her, not ruin her. Can’t the pair of you get that into your thick heads?”

Lisette moved past him to stand beside her twin. “We are not stupid, sir!”

He met her gaze and held it. “I know that.” He bowed to Christian and forced out the words. “She wants to go home. Perhaps it would be better if you took her.”

“It would be my pleasure, sir.” Christian jerked his chin at Lisette. “Gather your belongings, twin.”

Gabriel tensed as Lisette stepped between them. “Will you excuse us for a moment, Lord Swanfield?”

“Of course. I’ll be down in the taproom if you need me.” It took all his courage to walk away from her, to leave her to make her choice, to trust that somehow she’d choose him despite his clumsy handling of the whole affair.

Lisette watched Gabriel leave, his expression bleak, his eyes so sad than she wanted to cry. She swallowed hard as Christian smiled at her.

“Shall we go?”

She studied his face. “How did you know that I was here?”

He shrugged. “By a process of elimination. After you disappeared, I talked to everyone who knew Lord Swanfield, including his groom, and discovered his plans. Then I borrowed one of Father’s best horses and set off after you.”

“Then how am I supposed to go back with you?”

“We’ll take Lord Swanfield’s coach and leave him my horse.” Christian looked around the room. “Do you have anything at all to bring?”

Lisette shook her head. “I’m not coming.”

Christian halted by the door. “What?”

“I’d just decided to marry him after all. I was in the middle of making him declare his feelings to me when you walked in.” She swallowed hard. “And now he’s being all ridiculously noble and offering to let me go with you because he thinks I meant what I said.”

Christian frowned. “Lis, he’s a man. If you told him you didn’t want him, of course he’ll believe you.”

“But it’s supposed to be part of the game.”

“What game?”

“The game of love.”

Christian looked disgusted. “God, I’ll never understand women and their stupid games. If you want him, stay with him. If you don’t, come home with me, now.”

“I think I’ll stay then.”

Christian sighed. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She smiled tremulously at him. “I am.”

He drew her into a hug and kissed her cheek. “Make very sure you mean it this time, because I don’t think Swanfield is a man to play too many games with, do you?”

“I’m sure.” She kissed his forehead. “Now go home and tell everyone that everything will be all right.”

He bowed. “I’m not telling anyone anything. This is one scandal I’ll try to forget. Take care, Lis.”

She watched him leave and sat down on the bed. After half an hour ticked by and her anticipation turned to irritation, a huge yawn shook through her. She stripped off her clothes and went to bed. She didn’t have the energy to wait for Gabriel to return—if he ever did. Perhaps she should simply go to sleep and await his reaction to her presence in the morning.