CHAPTER FIVE
“Maggie!”
Dogs scattered as ladies shrieked their fearful reaction to the booming shout. The musicians on the balcony above the gallery came to an unharmonious ending as the entire hall came to a startled halt. Gaithlin, her eyes wide, gazed at Christian in complete surprise.
He was looking directly at the head table and before Gaithlin could draw another breath, he was marching for the long, cluttered slab of wood, his expression nothing short of lethal. In the very center of the feasting table, an auburn-haired man and a lovely dark-haired woman had been sitting conspicuously close; at the sight of Christian, they peeled apart faster than the human eye could comprehend and made great haste to put distance between themselves and the Demon of Eden.
“What are you doing here?” Christian was focused on the raven-haired lady. When she stared at him with the expression of a frightened doe, he jabbed a massive finger at her. “Answer me, Maggie, or God help me, I shall not be merciful in my punishment. What are you doing here?”
The Lady Margaret du Bois could scarcely believe the vision before her. Bottomless brown eyes stared at her betrothed with a huge degree of shock as she struggled to force a reply from her dry lips. But as she wrestled with her fear and astonishment, her gaze came to rest on the disheveled woman in the dark cloak and her expression took on a distinct shade of indignant fury.
“Who is she?” ignoring Christian’s demand completely, she imperiously indicated Gaithlin.
Although cornered in his own right by being discovered with an unknown female companion, Christian refused to allow his trapped fiancée to change the subject. Ignoring Gaithlin completely, he moved toward Maggie, toppling a chair in his haste. A wounded dog yapped its way into the shadows as Christian focused on his intended.
“Damnation, Maggie, answer me,” he demanded. “What are you doing with Howard? I thought you were visiting Carolyn.”
Swallowing hard, Maggie tore her eyes off Gaithlin to focus on the ice-blue orbs of her betrothed. “I… I am,” she insisted. “Carolyn is here, darling. We have been here for two days, visiting her brother.”
Christian’s jaw ticked. “From the affection between you and Kelvin, I would say you were doing more than visiting.”
For the first time, his gaze moved to his friend; standing tall and lanky at the opposite end of the table, Christian gestured the man to him with a crooked finger. A slow, deliberate gesture. With a good deal of reluctance and fear, Kelvin complied.
The entire room was deathly silent as the lord of Forrestoak approached his lover’s betrothed. Tensions rose to explosive proportions, biting into every occupant of the hall as if their very lives were at stake. Certainly, with the Demon of Eden verging on a rage, the likelihood of a bloodless conclusion was slim.
Coming within arm’s range of his seething friend, Kelvin smiled weakly. “Greetings, Christian. What a… surprise to see you. I have not seen you in years.”
Christian’s face was like stone, the veins on his neck throbbing. “Did you know that Maggie is betrothed to me?”
Kelvin, a handsome man with bright green eyes, licked his lips and forced a brave smile. “Of course. The entire province knows,” he gestured to the table. “We were sharing a meal, nothing more. Please, sit and we shall…”
Christian was suddenly in the man’s face, his voice as low as God’s mighty rumble. “If I know you, you have shared more than a meal with her. And if I know Maggie, which I do, she was a willing party,” his gaze lingering on his fiancé and her lover, he turned away in a gesture of complete, utter aversion.
“You’re mad, Christian,” Kelvin pleaded loudly. “We have done nothing but..!”
Christian came to an abrupt halt, returning his gaze to the lord of Forrestoak. His eyes were like razor-edged splinters of ice. “Do you take me for a fool, Kelvin? Why would you deny the obvious in lieu of accepting responsibility for your actions as a true man would?”
The heir to the Forrestoak met Christian’s blazing orbs as steadily as he could manage. To say that he had been surprised by the man’s appearance would have been a gross understatement; he found himself praying that he was somehow having a nightmare, tossing and turning on his feathered mattress after a night of too much sex and rich foods. If it was a dream, he realized that now would be a very good time to awaken. The dream was very quickly becoming his worst nightmare.
He actually blinked, hoping to clear his eyes and mind. But Christian’s image reappeared, as menacing as ever, and he was painfully aware that the man before him was no dream. It was the Demon in the flesh.
Reclaiming the brave smile that had faded somewhat, he simply shook his head in a vague gesture. Lie or no, he was unwilling to admit the fact that he had been happily bedding Christian’s intended for the better part of two days.
“Certainly you are no fool, my friend,” he said. “You are a wise, reasoning man, and you will believe me when I say that nothing has gone on between Lady Margaret and myself. She and my sister are simply here to pay me a visit.”
Christian’s expression transformed from a taut gesture to one of repugnance and disgrace. He knew Kelvin was lying to save his hide; the entire room was aware of his unavailing attempt. Disgusted with the man’s lack of honor, his head wagged back and forth in a gesture of complete loathing.
“You lying bastard,” he growled, not without a hint of remorse. “You must think very little of me.”
Kelvin struggled to maintain his front. “I think a great deal of you, my friend, a great deal,” he insisted, his voice oddly strained. “Please, let us not argue over this misunderstanding. There is a good deal of food and drink to be had.”
Christian continued to stare at him, a pitiful wretch of a liar. In truth, there was nothing more to say and he was certainly in no position to cast the first stone, entering the room as he had with Gaithlin on his arm. He had been privy to the rumors regarding Marble-head Maggie and Kelvin Howard for some time, though she had denied his query for truth vigorously. Although he didn’t believe her for an instant, he never asked again. Even when the rumors thickened.
But seeing the tangible proof before his eyes sickened him. It wasn’t the humiliation of betrayal that turned his stomach; Maggie did as she pleased and he was well aware of the reality. The fact that he had been made a fool of in front of a room full of vassals and allies planted a considerable dent into his enormous arrogance.
“Christian,” Maggie’s voice was pleading, sweet. “Truly, darling, there is nothing to be angry over. Carolyn is here and we have been hunting all day with Kelvin. My presence here is certainly not what you are thinking.”
Gaithlin eyed Christian apprehensively as he turned away from both Maggie and Kelvin, making his way toward her with slow, deliberate steps. From the gist of the conversation, she came to understand that the lovely raven-haired woman was to be Christian’s wife, and Christian was understandably grieved with the unexpected surprise awaiting him at Forrestoak.
Somewhat embarrassed in her own right that she and Christian had stumbled onto a secret indiscretion, she was nonetheless startled by a fierce protectiveness she felt for the Demon of Eden. Merciful Heavens, she had no idea why she should feel any sort of sheltering instinct for the hated St. John heir; regardless of her life-long convictions, however, she felt a good deal of pity for her captor and an abundance of condemnation for his trampy betrothed.
Christian, for his part, was doing an excellent job of controlling his fury in spite of the shocking circumstances. Even as he ignored Maggie’s plea, the dark-haired woman leapt off the dais in an attempt to purse him.
“Listen to me, Christian, and stop being foolish,” she ordered weakly. But the moment her gaze rest on Gaithlin’s beautiful face, her expression turned threatening. “But you, it would seem, are in the position to answer my questions as well. Who is your bedraggled slave?”
To Christian’s surprise, Gaithlin remained silent in the face of Maggie’s insult. The heat from the gallery had returned the color to her lovely cheeks, but the hazard simmering within the deep blue eyes was nothing short of deadly and Christian found himself more than willing to defend her.
In fact, being sharp of wit, he saw how he could turn the situation to his advantage. Having caught Maggie in the throes of indiscretion with a lover, he would measure her a hefty dose of the same humiliation.
“A cousin,” he lied deliberately, relishing the fact that he was lying to the bitch he was supposed to marry. “On my mother’s side.”
Maggie knew he was fabricating a story to cover the fact that he, too, had been caught with his lover. But she’d never seen the girl before and was understandably curious; Christian’s lovers were too innumerable to count and his tastes usually ran to high-bred widows or skilled, youthful whores. The tall woman swathed in black did not meet his usual criteria.
The fact that her intended husband took lovers had never bothered her; in fact, she too had unnatural appetites for sex. Christian was a beautiful man with a muscular, sculpted body she took great delight in, and she could hardly have expected a man of his reputation and aggressive personality to remain faithful to one solitary woman.
In faith, the only link between them was a physical attraction and the fact that they had betrothed when Maggie was six and Christian, sixteen. Little emotion, virtually no attachment, and certainly no love. They were resigned to the fact that they would live out their lives as man and wife and determined to exploit their unwed status until the very moment their vows bound them.
But the fact remained that she had never truly come into contact with one of Christian’s women and was surprised to realize her jealousy. And the fact that her intended seemed to be taking great delight in flaunting his affair angered her further.
“I see,” she replied coolly to his falsehood. “What is her name? Or can she speak for herself?”
Christian looked to Gaithlin, who was gazing steadily at Maggie. She knew, instinctively, that he would allow her to reply to the catty inquiry. He expected no less.
“The Lady Gaithlin.” Her sultry voice was seductive, erotic.
Maggie cocked a delicate eyebrow, moving closer as to better inspect Christian’s whore. “The Lady Gaithlin what?”
“De Blanc,” Christian answered for her, evenly. “My mother’s sister married Suffolk de Blanc. The Lady Gaithlin is her only child.”
Maggie continued to stare at Gaithlin. The tension between the two women was brittle enough to shatter at the slightest provocation, building to deafening dimensions as if to explode the walls of the very room. “I thought your aunt was childless, Christian.”
Christian crossed his arms, unwilling to be interrogated by his unfaithful betrothed. “Are you accusing me of falsehood?”
“Not at all,” Maggie replied smoothly, her gaze raking over Gaithlin in a most depreciating manner. “However, she is pitifully clothed for a relation to the House of St. John. Where are her trunks so that I might help her dress properly?”
“Lost,” Gaithlin replied before Christian could answer. “Thieves, you know.”
Maggie cast her a dubious, mocking expression. “Thieves managed to steal your valuables with the Demon of Eden as your escort? Shocking.”
Gaithlin’s simmering annoyance with the woman’s haughty demeanor blossomed into an irritation of loathing proportions. “Although he managed to do a good deal of damage, even my dear cousin was relatively subdued by the fifty bandits who set upon us. But it was a magnificent fight.” The corner of her lips twitched in a surprisingly erotic gesture. “There was a good deal of blood. Red. Sticky. Salty-tasting blood.”
Christian nearly choked, his gaze riveted to Gaithlin as her incredible eyes twinkled mischievously. The atmosphere between her and Maggie had flourished in unexpected directions and Christian received the distinct impression that Gaithlin was not so sheltered and naive as he had supposed. There was something in her tone, not to mention her words….
Even as he was filled with thoughts of suggestive intent and puzzlement, Maggie was positively pale. The tall woman with the cat-shaped eyes unnerved her somehow and she was suddenly unwilling to provoke her further.
Taking a breath to steady her nerves, she returned her focus to Christian. “Your cousin is… charming, Christian. Now, will you sit and enjoy the wild boar Kelvin killed this morn?”
Jaw grinding, Christian was torn away from the titillating visions Gaithlin had provoked with her seductive voice and bizarre, evocative expression to find himself focused on Maggie once again. His first reaction was to refuse, but catching sight of Gaithlin from the corner of his eye, he was fully aware that the only reason he had sought shelter for the night was to spare her from the terrible elements outside.
She was already dirty and disheveled and damp, and a night in the pouring weather might serve to damage more than her mood and appearance; he could very well find himself with a sickly captive and had no desire to shoulder the burden of her death. But even as he attempted to convince himself that he was purely concerned for her health, he realized that his regard ran deeper than he was willing to admit.
For the first time in his life, Christian was inclined to swallow his pride for the sake of another. He was acutely cognizant of the fact that he would be sitting at a table full of diners who had been witnessing his betrothed’s infidelities for the better part of two days, but suddenly, his humiliation didn’t seem overly important. The past was set and there was nothing he could do about the good and the bad of it; remaining at Forrestoak to demonstrate his unconcern for Maggie’s actions would be of far worse insult to her than to him. In faith, his emotions had never been particularly affected by her infidelity. Tonight, he would prove the fact. He would convey her worthlessness to him.
“Aye,” his voice was low, a roll of distant thunder. “My cousin and I will stay the night to enjoy Forrestoak’s fare.”
A seductive smile creased Maggie’s lips, instantly vanished by the quelling expression on Christian’s face. He knew what she was thinking and he wanted no part of her; instead, as an added deliberate insult, he extended his hand to Gaithlin.
There was a certain amount of satisfaction in accepting his outstretched hand, and Gaithlin did so with relish. She was coming to understand the circumstances around her, the game being played out before Christian’s unfaithful betrothed. Although she shouldn’t have cared in the least whether or not the woman was faithful to the Demon of Eden, the desire to protect him against the conniving wench was still an undeniably powerful force. And by accepting Christian’s outstretched palm, she was helping him gain revenge against the treacherous woman. It was the first time a de Gare had supported a St. John in over seventy years.
Clutching Gaithlin’s warm hand as he made his way to the lengthy head table, Christian was well aware of the fact. He was also well aware of another thing at that moment; he liked her on his arm.
*
Sup had been a relatively bloodless, if not silent, experience of fine food and an abundance of wine. Lady Carolyn Howard was nowhere to be found, as Christian had suspected, and Kelvin had mumbled a rambling excuse regarding his sister’s ill health and early fatigue.
The true reason, of course, was that Carolyn was back at Castle Howard while her friend romped with Kelvin in the wilds of Cumbria. Knowing Maggie would not have paid her any attention had she been foolish enough to accompany her, Carolyn was content to remain at home and tease her father’s knights into insanity. While Maggie had her fun, using her friend as a convenient and proper disguise, Carolyn would follow her usual pursuits until Maggie grew tired of Kelvin and returned to Castle Howard. At that time, they would continue with their visit as usual without Christian being the wiser. Little did Carolyn realize the events that had transpired that day.
But Christian was unconcerned with the Howard tramp, or Maggie’s lame excuses, or anything else that involved the Howard situation this night. As he stood in his borrowed bower, contemplating the rain outside his window, he simply could not escape the more powerful thoughts intent on robbing him of his sleep. Too many alien emotions he was unused to experiencing, too many tumultuous sensations to sort. Too much confusion over the de Gare captive.
After gorging themselves on roast boar and other sumptuous offerings, Kelvin had personally escorted them to their respective chambers, not far from one another. Christian had ignored Kelvin for the most part, a man he considered a former friend; he was a trusting soul until betrayed or crossed. After that, there was no forgiveness and there were no second chances. And Kelvin, having knowingly cavorted with the other man’s betrothed, was no longer subject to the Demon’s good graces.
Kelvin was well aware of Christian’s cold demeanor and greatly troubled by the fact. He had hoped that plying the man with expensive food and drink would be enough to offset his offense, but it was obvious from the beginning that Christian was beyond the deliverance of mercy. Even if they hadn’t seen one another in ten years, Kelvin could scarcely believe that Christian was fully intent on disregarding a long-standing relationship.
As Christian had acquired a rather roguish reputation over the course of the years, Kelvin found it hard to accept that the man would be so unforgiving over actions he himself had committed. Distressed with the entire situation and lack of forgiveness, he had bid his former friend and the man’s beautiful cousin a good eve.
That had been hours ago. Staring off into the misty night cloaking Cumbria’s rule, Christian could hardly track the course of his thoughts. Wondering how a single day could have left him so completely detached from everything in life he had ever known to be right or wrong.
Even if his swirling ideals were muddled and vague, one thought reigned as clear as crystal; the Lady Gaithlin de Gare. She had been a most surprising sight to behold during the meal, eating as much as Christian easily and suckling the juices off her long, slender fingers, unknowingly sending every man in the room into seizures of erotic fantasies.
She’d hardly uttered a word, speaking only when spoken to, and above the entire disjointed, bedraggled picture she presented, Christian found himself quite convinced that the Lady Gaithlin had been subject to a life of meager sustenance.
Strange how he had suddenly become aware of the fact. He, too, had been gripped with lust at the sight of her long fingers wiping themselves across her tongue until he realized that she was licking her flesh to gain every last morsel rather than to wipe the remnants away. And she ate with such ferocity and speed that one would have thought she was expected her food to be whisked away from her at any moment.
Certainly, not the table manners of a well-bred young lady. They were the table manners of a woman who had known more than her share of hardships. A woman who had known the meaning of hunger.
Hardships created by the St. Johns. Christian knew that all too well. Winding Cross had been under constant siege for years, subject to innumerable blockades, and it was obvious that the harassment and badgering had been effective. Eden was a good deal larger, able to keep her supply lines open due to her sheer manpower, whereas Winding Cross was basically isolated from the rest of the English realm by her remote location and smaller forces.
Behind the thirty-foot stone walls that Eden’s forces had been unable to breach, a world of hell and despair had undoubtedly manifested itself and Christian found himself admiring the fact that the de Gares had been able to exist through such horrendous conditions without succumbing. The St. Johns had wanted the de Gares to suffer, wanting to break their spirits and their souls, but the de Gares had yet to break.
Gazing out over the muddy, damp night, Christian wondered what other horrors the St. Johns had forced Gaithlin to endure. Horrors he had caused.
His thoughts were abruptly broken as a soft knock vibrated his bower door. Moving away from the rain-spattered window, Christian unhooked the latch.
Maggie was standing in the archway, her sharp face pretty and flushed. Clad in a beautiful gown of gold, she curtsied gracefully at Christian’s feet.
“Good eve, my lord,” she purred.
His expression was impassive. “What do you want?”
Her smile faded somewhat, though she made a valiant attempt to appear undeterred. “I thought you might enjoy a bit of company this night.”
“Nay,” he said flatly. “Go back to Kelvin’s bed, Maggie. I have no use for you any longer.”
She lost the struggle against her vanishing smile. “What do you mean, Christian? I am your betrothed, your intended. Surely you cannot…!”
“I can and I do,” he rumbled. His jaw ticked as he allowed the door to swing open wide, crossing his arms as if to physically prevent her entry. “You have been mildly amusing for sixteen years, my dear, but I must say that I have had my fill of you. I have thought the matter through this night and I have decided to solicit my father with the intention of breaking our betrothal.”
Maggie’s face was ashen with shock. “You cannot be serious, Christian. I have done nothing….”
He put up a sharp hand. “Spare me more of your lies. I have been aware of your infidelities for years, though I must say I am guilty for the fact that I allowed them to continue,” he shrugged carelessly. “I suppose you did not matter to me terribly, therefore, I was unconcerned with your adulterous actions. After all, I had no interest in remaining faithful to a mere betrothal contract, either.”
Maggie simply stared at him, sickened and disbelieving. After a moment, her brown eyes began to smolder. “How can you condemn me for the very same actions you admit to committing yourself? I thought we understood one another, Christian. As long as we were discreet, we were quite content to live our separate lives until the day our wedding vows enslaved us.”
His jaw ticked as he gazed at her. Once, her words had been true. They had been unfaithful to one another for the duration of their entire relationship and Christian found himself wondering when, and how, he had suddenly managed to acquire an overactive conscience.
But as he lingered on his newly acquired sense of righteousness, surprising as it was, it abruptly occurred to him that his perception of commitment had seeped deep into his soul the very moment he had taken Gaithlin in his arms. To imagine her enclosed within another man’s heated embrace nearly drove him to instantaneous madness. She was made for him, and to think of betraying her by bestowing his affections on another made him wild with guilt.
Were she his, he would never as much as look at another woman again. The fact was that he hadn’t looked at another woman since the day he had witnessed Gaithlin’s erotic water ballet. He’d fallen in love with her that very moment. Suddenly, commitment and emotion took on an entirely different meaning when applied to Gaithlin. De Gare or no, she was the only woman in the world worth pledging his faith and loyalty to. He’d known it from the first; finally, he found a woman he was willing to commit his heart, his soul, his body to forever.
Forsaking all others.
He couldn’t marry Maggie. Not when he loved Gaithlin.
Good Christ, he loved her! He could scarcely believe the powerful revelation. It was a violent realization, a marvelous awareness, a bevy of powerful emotions that caused his head to spin in blinding, endless circles.
He closed his eyes to ward of the baffling thoughts ranting through his mind, turning away from Maggie in a vain attempt to collect his composure. In fact, Maggie ceased to exist as he paced the woolen carpet of his bower, meandering aimlessly as he came to grips with the shocking turn his emotions had taken.
“Christian?” Maggie had followed him into the room, wondering why his face was suddenly so pale. “Are you well? I forgive you your words, of course, since you are obviously ill. Come and rest, darling. Maggie will heal you.”
He didn’t realize his hands were to his face, an unconscious gesture of disbelief and shock. But the clammy palms came away from his pallid cheeks as he forced himself to focus on the situation at hand. The sooner he rid himself of Maggie’s unwanted presence, the better able he would be to collect himself.
“I am not ill,” his voice was hoarse. “Go away, Maggie. I do not want you here.”
Her expression dampened. “But you’re not looking at all well, darling. Is something the matter?”
“Nay!” he suddenly roared, watching Maggie leap with fear. Fighting down the surging tides of confusion and irritation, he struggled to maintain his calm as he pointed at his open bower door. “Get out, Maggie. I shall not ask you again.”
Driven to a grand performance of tears, both real and pretend, Maggie backed away from him with wide, frightened eyes. “I… I do not understand, Christian,” she moaned softly. “It has always been this way between us. You had your life and I had mine. I thought you were happy this way.”
“Happy?” he repeated dully, as if he had never heard the word. He shook his head slowly. “What is there to be happy of? Seeking in other women what I could never find in you, searching endlessly through England’s female ranks for the one solitary female who would satisfy my needs in life? I was never happy, Maggie. And I don’t think you are either.”
Delicate tears splashed to her cheeks. “Yes I am, darling. You make me very happy.”
His face was taut with emotion and fatigue. “If I did, then you would have remained faithful to me.”
Maggie stared at him a moment, thinking on his words. Seeing a grain of truth. Wiping at her eyes, she seemed more intent to ponder his calm words than to carry on an act.
“Are you suggesting that we will never be happy or true to each other?” she asked softly, fixing him with her wide brown eyes. “If that is the case, then I promise you that you are wrong. I shall be true to you from this moment on if that is what you wish. And I shall make you happy, Christian. I swear it.”
He met her gaze, unwilling to consider her offer. It occurred to him that he was very eager to be rid of her, concerned to focus his time and energies on the one woman who had occupied his mind for the better part of a month. Good Christ, he was in the midst of the most irrational thoughts he had ever had the misfortune to generate. Thoughts of loving a de Gare, thoughts of being faithful to none other than his family’s mortal foe. A woman who, at the moment, was his captive. He’d never considered himself capable of being completely faithful to one woman but, then again, he’d never met a de Gare before.
“No more, Maggie,” his voice was soft with fatigue. “We have said all there is to say. Consider yourself a free woman from this night on.”
Maggie stood in front of the archway, no longer tearful. Although Christian seemed completely determined to discard her from his life, she wasn’t entirely convinced of his sincerity. Certainly, he was angry for having caught her in a tryst with one of her innumerable lovers, but she was quite certain that time and careful thought would gradually bring him back to his senses.
And the fact that Jean St. John was looking forward to the du Bois dowry with a particular hunger would also help to convince Christian that his harsh words had been rash. Aye, Christian’s father would be of tremendous help to her cause.
“Very well, darling,” she said softly, moving through the doorway. “If that is your wish, I shall leave you to your thoughts.”
Christian didn’t say anything as she silently quit the room, knowing very well it would not be the last time he beheld her presence. Maggie was too preoccupied with marrying the Demon of Eden to give it all up so easily. And he would not have been at all surprised to discover if she had made an appearance in Gaithlin’s doorway to demand vengeance.
Maggie was catty, sly, and treacherous; Christian was well aware of her qualities. And he was coming to know Gaithlin well enough to realize that if Maggie provoked her in the slightest, she could very well end up sporting a lovely black eye.
He smiled at the thought of Gaithlin taking her soft fist to Maggie’s eye; certainly, the woman deserved worse. In fact, based on his experience with the physical characteristics of Gaithlin de Gare, it was quite possible that Maggie would end up with more than a bruise for her troubles and Christian found himself wondering if he should casually make his way to Gaithlin’s bower simply to make sure neither woman came to harm.
Aye, paying a visit on the western wing seemed to be an agreeable idea. Anything to discourage Maggie from venting her anger on an unsuspecting victim who might very well turn on her. Christian had no intention of giving Forrestoak’s gossips any more ammunition for their already overloaded arsenal. Running his fingers through his dark blond hair a couple of times, he quit his room in silence.
Eager for the excuse to see his captive.
*
But Gaithlin wasn’t alone. It all began when Kelvin Howard reappeared at her door not ten minutes after he had left her, his arms laden with several of his sister’s discarded gowns. Still wrapped in Christian’s oversized cloak, she had allowed her host into her bower purely for courtesy’s sake.
Kelvin had smiled endlessly at her, offering a blathering excuse regarding the offerings he had strewn across her bed. His sister had grown too fat for them, he explained, and they were simply taking up space within the confines of her already-overcrowded wardrobe. Since Gaithlin’s possessions had been brutally stolen by a band of heartless bandits, he could ask for no greater pleasure than to deliver the gowns to a beautiful woman in need.
Wary and silent, Gaithlin had eyed the selection of gowns with a good deal of distrust and a healthy measure of glee. They were finer than anything she owned, and already she could feel the expensive silks caressing her tender flesh. But Kelvin’s eager expression kept a powerful restraint on her excitement; she couldn’t help but believe he was expecting some form of payment for his gift of charity. And not a monetary payment, to be sure.
Unused to the finer arts of persuasion or lady-like games, she had thanked him stiffly for his generosity and set about explaining her refusal for such a donation. The harder she attempted to refute his “gifts,” the more firmly he insisted that she try on the red gown. ’Twould seem it was his favorite and he was most eager to view her within the striking color.
An uneasy banter that went on for several minutes. Short of bodily removing the man from her bower, Gaithlin was at a loss as to what to do. Certainly he was her host and she felt very uncomfortable refusing his expensive addition to her non-existent wardrobe, but there was something in his earnest manner that unnerved her. A gleam in his eye she was unfamiliar with.
The gentle argument went on for an excessive length of time until she realized Kelvin had seated himself comfortably in a hide-covered chair with nary an intention of leaving until his guest complied with his demand to try on the red gown. Against the wall with Christian’s cloak swathed protectively around her body, Gaithlin had grown weary of the foolish banter and simply remained silent as Kelvin swerved off the subject of her new garments in favor of a first-hand account of his visit to Rome.
Gaithlin didn’t care about Rome. She wanted the man out of her room so she could bathe away the dirt and aches that had constituted her day. Then, mayhap, if he didn’t reclaim his gifts in an indignant huff when she factually convinced him to leave her bower, she might try on the red gown. And the green one, too. Mayhap even the blue wool.
But she wasn’t going to move from her post by the wall until he left her in peace. His childish, arrogant manner was coming to be an irritation far more than an intimidation and she was in the process of summoning the courage to ask him to leave when he suddenly rose from the chair, eyeing her suggestively.
“Tell me truthfully, my lady,” his voice was soft, lingering. “You are not Christian’s cousin.”
She blinked in confusion at the rapid change of subject. He had been speaking of Rome not a moment before and she swallowed hard, making a valiant attempt to compose a believable lie. For the fact that she had been raised isolated and alone, interacting with mature individuals not from her own family was something of a new experience and she felt a certain desperation at her lack of worldliness.
She was not an accomplished expert when it came to seasoned, adult games. Already, she felt at a distinct disadvantage as Kelvin slowly advanced.
“Why do you question Christian’s word?” she stammered, hating the fact that she sounded off-balance. “He told you that I was his cousin and you will believe him.”
Kelvin’s long, long legs set a slow pace across the scrubbed wooden slats. His green eyes twinkled faintly. “I would believe him except for one factor; you are far too lovely to be a St. John relation. With the exception of Christian and Quinton, all of the St. John’s are fairly short and compact.”
Unfortunately, Gaithlin’s lack of adult experience thrust itself to the forefront with her puzzled, non-thinking, entirely brainless reply. “Who is Quinton?”
She realized she had committed a mortal error before the words were even out of her mouth and she averted her gaze, cursing her stupidity and complete lack of sense. Although Kelvin already had the upper hand in their conversation, his low laughter told her that she had dug herself into a deep well of lies from whence there would be no return. She found herself wishing that Christian would burst through the door and save them both from her witlessness.
A perfectly plausible falsehood dashed to cinder in one swift blow of her reckless tongue and she was concerned for two completely valid reasons; Christian had forced her to promise that she would not reveal her true identity, and she was deeply concerned that she keep her word. She was unable to fathom the reason as to why it was so important that she maintain her honor in the face of a hated St. John, only knowing that she was unwilling to betray her pledge. Unwilling to betray her enemy.
And the second reason for her concern was obvious; Christian had invented the lie to save his dignity after discovering his betrothed’s infidelities with none other than the man attempting to press his company. The Demon of Eden possessed a good deal of pride and honor, and having come across his intended frolicking like a well-used tart had been a rude discovery. St. John or no, Gaithlin didn’t believe anyone should be treated with so little respect.
With those two substantial factors weighing heavily on her mind, she avoided Kelvin’s gaze as he drew close. She was so intent on eluding his piercing stare than she neglected to notice the close proximity of his body until it was too late. Cornered against the wall, she pressed herself against the stone as if to force the cold blocks to absorb her. Fear, relatively unknown until that moment, sprouted a weak seed deep in the pit of her belly.
“So you have no knowledge of your other cousin?” Kelvin’s voice was sickeningly seductive, his tone still laced with laughter. “I find that extremely odd, Lady Gaithlin. If that is indeed your name.”
A blossom of anger joined the seed of fear. “Of course it is my name,” she snapped softly, attempting to move away from him. “Lady Gaithlin de Bl… de Bl…”
He laughed again. “So you fail to remember your surname as well? God’s Blood, you are far too young to find yourself succumbing to the effects of senility.”
Frustrated, Gaithlin’s palms began to sweat. She couldn’t seem to keep her thoughts straight with his nearness, his bold characteristics intimidating her into irrationality. With a final lunge at the rope of control, she pushed herself off the wall in the hope that she could physically shove him back, away from her, thereby emphasizing her imminent request that he leave her in peace.
His presence was an unwanted, tiring bother and she fully intended to tell him so. Charity or no, he had moved past the boundaries of her patience and she was determined to be rid of him before he could manage to inflict more damage to Christian’s fabrication.
“I would ask you to leave, my lord,” she said firmly, plowing into his right shoulder and sending him stumbling back. “I am weary and wish to retire for the night.”
Undeterred but understandably surprised by the tall woman’s apparent strength, Kelvin cocked an auburn eyebrow. Being lord of his own manor provided him with the authority and aggressiveness to put forth his demands without fear of refusal, and gazing at Gaithlin’s lowered head, he was no longer interested in playing games with the lanky wench. He had come for a reason this night; and it hadn’t been to ply her senses with his sister’s new gowns.
Thinking back, he couldn’t recall ever seeing a finer woman. As sup had uneasily continued earlier that eve, and after his fear of Christian’s wrath had subsided, he found his attention completely occupied by the beautiful lady with the cat-shaped eyes. Even as she shoved food into her mouth like a starving soldier, he had been unconcerned with her table manners; in fact, he rather liked watching her pink tongue slurp the grease from her slender white fingers.
Had Christian not been so incensed with the discovery of Maggie’s blatant infidelities, he would have coerced his former friend into sharing his mistress. As it was, Christian was off sulking in his bower and Kelvin was determined to seek his own sport with the tall wench. And the mound of dresses on the bed were to insure her silence in the matter.
“My, my, you are a powerful woman,” his tone was an erotic purr. “Does this hold true in every aspect of your manner?”
Puzzled and apprehensive, Gaithlin met his eyes for nearly the first time since he entered the room. Suspecting he was insinuating something intimately physical, she struggled against the slight flush that mottled her tender cheeks. “If you would be so kind as to leave, my lord, I have no desire to continue this conversation.”
A leering smile joined his erotic tone. “Odd that you should mention desire,” he said. “Certainly, mine must be evident to you.”
His hand moved across his swollen crotch; Gaithlin saw the gesture from just inside her line of sight but absolutely refused to stare at the focus of his intimation. Sickened as well as apprehensive, she stepped away from him, moving around the end of the bed to put distance between them.
“You will leave me,” her voice was hoarse with fear and disgust.
To her horror, he was moving toward her again. “I have no desire to leave you,” his voice was quiet. “Why are you so opposed to sampling my techniques? Christian is certainly no more experienced than I.”
Shaken and baffled, she lost the battle against the deeply-threatening blush. In fact, she was beginning to sweat but utterly terrified to remove the cloak. As if, somehow, Christian’s heavy garment would protect her against Kelvin’s bold approach.
“I do not know anything about experience or techniques,” she replied quietly, her voice quivering. “If you do not leave, I can guarantee you will be sorry. I will not tolerate your advances.”
Kelvin stopped; after a moment, his head tilted playfully and his grin broadened. “A game, demoiselle? Do you intend to fight me?”
Cheeks hot, Gaithlin met his amused gaze. “Until the death, if necessary.”
“I assure you, it will not be necessary. I will surrender willingly.”
He resumed his advance and Gaithlin moved away from him, around the bed. “Get out,” she hissed. “I do not want you here. Go and take your gowns with you.”
She was fully prepared for another suggestive retort. Instead, Kelvin leapt onto the bed and, using it as a launch-board, propelled himself against her. With a startled cry, Gaithlin found herself slammed against the wall by his superior weight. Off-balance and off-guard, she stumbled over her clumsy feet and fell to her ground with nearly two hundred pounds of male flesh pressed atop her.
Horror and fury surged through her veins as she struggled against Kelvin’s weight, heavy and ungiving against her supple body. His hands, large and strong, moved to trap her flailing arms.
“I like this game,” he grunted, catching an open palm against his neck. “You are quite good at it.”
Aghast as well as terrified, Gaithlin’s struggles increased against his supreme male power. She had been able to subdue Christian and his men when they had come for her in the abbey purely for the fact that she had managed to catch them off guard. Unfortunately, the situation was turned against her at the moment; Kelvin’s surprise attack had startled her long enough for him to gain the advantage. He had trapped her.
Gaithlin was fully aware when he pinned one arm above her head, followed very shortly by the other. Although she was strong for a woman, she simply wasn’t powerful enough against Kelvin’s brute strength. As she thrashed furiously, he threw his entire body weight atop her to prevent her from pitching him off. Breathing with exertion and excitement, his flushed face loomed an inch above her own as he gazed into startled deep blue eyes.
“You are my captive, Lady Gaithlin,” he growled, his stinking breath hot on her face. “Surrender to me and I will be merciful.”
Her head lolled away from him, averting her reeling senses from his repugnant sense of excitement. “Get off me, you bastard. I have no interest in playing your demented game!”
He cocked an eyebrow, his smile fading somewhat. “Bastard, am I? I beg to differ. My heritage is long and legitimate,” he leaned sideways, attempting to look her in the face. “Pray, Lady Gaithlin, can the same be said for you? Tell me who you truly are, you delectably naughty wench.”
Lips pressed tight and eyes focused on the wall beside her head, Gaithlin refused to answer. Smiling, Kelvin licked her ear and she shrieked in fear and disgust, her slender body bucking and twisting in a vain attempt to dislodge him.
“Tell me, Gaithlin,” he purred, licking her again. “Tell me who you are.”
She yelped when his tongue stroked her cheek, biting her lip to keep from screaming in full-blown panic. Grunting with the force of his body weight, she made a feeble attempt to shake her head.
“No!”
Kelvin laughed softly, moving to dropping sensual kisses on her neck, kisses that frightened Gaithlin deeply. They were nothing like the erotic gestures delivered by Christian, steamy and passionate and utterly wonderful. They were unnerving, nauseating. Yet the more she struggled, the bolder his kisses became.
Trapped and terrified, Gaithlin struggled to rein her horror. Fighting for lucidity, she forced herself to come to terms with the fact that there was no way to out-power Kelvin; clearly, he was superior in size and strength. Therefore, the only way to disable him or discourage him would be to catch him off his guard, just as he had surprised her by his unexpected attack. And the only way to catch him unaware would be to cease her resistance.
Forcing herself to calm was mayhap the hardest struggle she had yet to face. His kisses were running along the base of her throat, sending chills of disgust down her spine, but she wrestled against the bile in her throat in order to focus on the next step in her deception – convincing him she would accept his onslaught.
Kelvin felt her slender, womanly body relax underneath him and his bold smile returned as he nibbled on her delicate jawline. The tapered fingers that he held captive over her head went limp as he convinced her of his pleasurable intent. Releasing his hold on her wrists as he was assured victory in their adult game, his large hands moved to grip her head. Fingers intertwined within her silken blond hair, he attempted to kiss her lips.
But Gaithlin would not allow him access to her delectably ripe morsels. Turning her head, Kelvin’s mouth came to bear on her ear again. But it didn’t seem to matter to him; moaning with the pleasure of her tender, responsive body, his tongue obscenely stroking the interior of her ear. Shivering in repulsion that Kelvin interpreted as desire, she shifted slightly underneath him and reluctantly brought her hands up to touch his arms. Thick, broad arms, but not nearly as large as Christian’s. Kelvin’s aggressive touch was nothing like the bold onslaught from her captor that had literally melted her senses.
Both attacks had been unexpected, yet one had been so overwhelmingly magnificent that to compare it to Kelvin’s amateur attempt nearly brought a smile to her lips. She found herself wishing it were Christian who lay atop her, searing her innocent faculties with more emotion and sensuality than she ever realized existed.
But Christian was nowhere to be found as Kelvin covered her delicious body with his grunting and writhing. As Kelvin made another attempt to kiss her, she knew what had to be done and she furthermore knew that she would only have one chance. Gaithlin might have been romantically innocent, but she was innately cunning. She had a plan to stop his onslaught once and for all.
As Kelvin’s mouth came close to her lips but again, she put her soft hand over his seeking lips in an attempt to gain his attention. As she hoped, his inquisitive, lusty gaze met with eyes of deep blue and she made an attempt to smile seductively.
“The floor is hurting my back,” she whispered, listening to the quake in her voice and praying he did not take notice. “Might we move to the… bed?”
He kissed her fingers. “Of course.” Pushing himself up, he rocked to his heels, studying her in the faint firelight as she propped herself onto shaking elbows. After a lengthy moment, he cocked his head with thought. “Tell me who you are, Gaithlin. I promise I shall not tell Maggie.”
She looked him in the eye although she was quite aware that his tender testicles were looming directly over her pointed boot. The target she was hoping for.
Her bravery fed, she cocked an eyebrow. “Would you truly like to know?” she asked, her sultry voice sending shivers of excitement down Kelvin’s spine. When he nodded eagerly, she shifted slightly so that her boot was located in a prime spot beneath his parted thighs. When he rose to his knees in anticipation of regaining his footing, she could not have wished for better positioning.
“Very well,” she replied softly, making sure to look into his eyes. “I will tell you so that you will know, exactly, who has given you the most memorable night of your life.”
“Yes? Yes?” he panted.
She smiled, a beautifully seductive gesture. “Do you truly wish to know?”
“Yes!” he practically shouted. “Tell me and be done with it! I cannot wait for your tender fruits any longer!”
“I will not make you wait any longer,” she cocked a completely erotic eyebrow, unaware of the fact that she was playing adult games far better than most seasoned adults. For her, the seduction and roleplaying came naturally. “My name is de Gare. Gaithlin de Gare.”
It didn’t matter that she broke her promise to Christian at that very moment; she wanted Kelvin to know the name of the woman who would most likely damage him for life. Gathering her strength, she brought up the pointed toe of her boot and carved a blistering path of pain and anguish into the sacs that would continue the Howard Family line.
The furious shock of her action was not enough to offset the instant, searing pressure. Reflexively, Kelvin yelped a startled cry and attempted to move away from her; still, she continued to plunge her toe deep into his aroused manhood. Her foot followed him as he sprawled to the wooden floor, driving hard, bringing inconceivable pain and relishing every agonizing moment he was suffering at her hands.