Eighteen
A roaring filled Jeremy’s ears. “Blackmail! That ass blackmailed you? How? Why?” He frowned. “Never mind that—I know why. To force you into marriage.”
She bobbed her head. “You think you were naïve at eighteen? I was a veritable idiot at twenty, I assure you.”
“I don’t believe that.” He seized her hands. “Some men are bastards who take advantage of everyone they meet, even clever young women.”
And the thought of some fellow trying to force her into marriage for his own mercenary purposes made Jeremy want to hit something. Or someone, preferably the lieutenant.
He fed that rage to keep from dwelling on the fact that he’d revealed so much of his past to her. Not all of it, though. Never all of it. If she knew how truly selfish he’d been, she would never speak to him again. And as wise as that might be, he couldn’t bear it.
So he focused on her association with Ruston instead. “But how did the man blackmail you, exactly?”
Her cheeks blushed a bright crimson. “This is so embarrassing.”
Fear of what she might say seized him by the throat. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? Because if that ass harmed anything but your pride, I swear I will hunt him down and lop off his ‘horn’ myself.” When she looked startled by his vehemence, he added hastily, “I mean, just so I could make sure he never used it against any other innocent female.”
She looked skeptical of that reasoning, but murmured, “Well, he didn’t even use it against me, so you’ve no need to worry on that score.” Even as relief coursed through Jeremy, she added, “But he taught me to doubt myself. My instincts.” She squeezed Jeremy’s hands. “For that, I can never forgive him.”
“Understandably.” He gazed at her lovely face and wondered how any man could want her just for her money. “So, what exactly did he do? How did he even end up here at Stoke Towers?”
She blinked, then said tartly, “What? Your spy couldn’t unearth that?”
He ignored her sarcasm. “Apparently not. All he said was that the man visited here for a few weeks one holiday.”
Pulling her hands free, she nodded. “He came here with Samuel, who was his shipmate. They were given leave for Christmastide, and the lieutenant was an orphan with no family, so my brother invited him home.”
Jeremy choked down the impulse to point out that the brother she credited with saving her had also brought the snake into Eden in the first place. “Did your father agree to the invitation?”
“Papa didn’t know or care. He was off in London as usual, doing whatever he always did there. After Mother died, we almost never saw him. Edwin had already reached his majority years before, so Papa left him in charge since Edwin, who never really liked society, was content to run things.”
“So Blakeborough was the man of the house while Ruston was here paying court to you.” And still just as oblivious to how deeply his sister felt.
“Yes.” She rose to walk over to the fire. “I’d met Lieutenant Ruston a few times before, when Samuel was on leave. Samuel had mentioned him in letters often, and the lieutenant would send me words for my dictionary through my brother. I had come to consider him a friend.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Jeremy saw the stiffness of her back, heard the unsteadiness of her voice. Her sense of betrayal was evident in every line of her body. “But he was not.”
“He seemed to be, at first.” She turned halfway toward Jeremy, putting her in profile. “He was gentlemanly and courteous and said lovely things that made my heart go pitter-patter.” A chill froze her voice. “I was so stupid.”
He wanted to jump up and go hold her. Out of sheer self-preservation, he stayed seated. “It isn’t stupid to take someone at their word. Scoundrels are convincing liars.”
He waited for her to make one of her usual observations about how he ought to know, being a scoundrel himself. When she didn’t, it tightened his chest the same way her words had earlier.
But you have a heart!
God, he hoped she was wrong. Hearts got trampled on. He’d been through enough pain without the crushing agony of a broken heart. Yet he didn’t want her thinking him a scoundrel, either. As usual, he wanted to have his cake and eat it, too.
Exactly like Samuel and the lieutenant. He winced. “Besides, your brother vouched for him. And you probably trusted your brother.”
“At that point, I was still naïve enough that I did. Though truthfully, I don’t think he realized Lieutenant Ruston’s real motives.”
Jeremy kept his doubts about that to himself.
“Nor can I blame my brother for my weakness for handsome men.” She shot Jeremy a rueful glance. “In his navy uniform, Lieutenant Ruston fairly blinded a silly young girl like me.”
“I can’t imagine that you were any more a silly girl then than you are now.”
A furrow appeared between her eyebrows. “Oh, but I clearly was, or I’d have known better than to believe his flatteries. I should have been on my guard from the moment he called me ‘a delicate flower.’ I haven’t been delicate from the day I was born.”
Out of nowhere, he remembered what she’d said the day Knightford had shown up: God forbid I look like anything but a delicate flower for my portrait.
Like Shakespeare’s famous heroine, the lady clearly protested too much. Ruston had succeeded with her because he’d found her weakness—her secret desire to be considered as dainty and delicate as other English ladies. That was why she’d initially chosen such boring clothes for her portrait, why she’d melted when she thought Jeremy had made her look pretty in his first sketch.
She might be fierce and bold, but even Yvette desperately wanted to be seen as feminine. Unfortunately, in her society the feminine ideal was dainty and delicate. It made him want to shake her, then kiss her until she was left in no doubt about her femininity.
He chose his words carefully. “You aren’t remotely delicate, that’s true.” When her gaze shot to him, vulnerable, uncertain, he added softly, “Because delicate things break. They don’t withstand the blows of life. You are made of stronger stuff, made to persevere, and thank God for it. The world needs more women like you.”
Hannah had been delicately made. Perhaps that was one reason he’d always found it so difficult to be close to her. Even though she possessed ample strength of character and conviction, he’d always been afraid he might hurt her physically somehow.
Odd how he never feared hurting Yvette physically. What he feared was that he wouldn’t get enough of her. That he wouldn’t assuage his need hard enough, fast enough, deeply enough—
Oh, God, don’t think of her like that, or you’ll soon be doing more than just sitting on this bed.
He cleared his throat and bent forward, hoping to mask his wayward prick. “And just because the lieutenant proved to be a devil in the end doesn’t mean that what he said about your charms was a lie.”
A snort was her only answer.
“So,” he said, to prod her on, “he pretended to be your friend.”
“And more.” She played with the ties of her wrapper. “He persuaded me to go with him unchaperoned on long walks through the woods. He persuaded me to let him steal a kiss here and there.”
Jeremy’s arousal vanished, replaced by a jealous anger that he dared not show—that he didn’t even approve of, for God’s sake. “More than one kiss, then,” he said, hoping he sounded nonchalant.
“Yes. Toward the end of his stay, he mentioned marriage. I told him I’d be honored to marry him, and I would wait for him to ask permission of my father in London.” With her head bent, her hair veiled her face, but he could hear the consternation in her voice. “That’s when he became . . . a bit strange.”
“Strange?”
“He said that given his lack of connections, he knew my father would never approve a marriage. So it was best that we take matters into our own hands and elope.”
“And you told him to jump off the nearest cliff, I hope,” Jeremy growled.
She shot him an exasperated look. “Have you forgotten that I fancied myself in love? At that point I was incapable of cold-blooded logic. When I was with him, his proposal seemed perfectly acceptable. The problem was, when I was away from him—”
“You came to your senses.”
“Somewhat.” She shook her head. “The funny thing is that Papa probably wouldn’t have stood in the way if Lieutenant Ruston had gone the usual route to marriage. By that point he’d begun to realize that I wouldn’t easily find a husband. I’m sure he would have considered a naval lieutenant to be perfectly acceptable.”
Jeremy mused on that. “Perhaps your father would have. But I’m sure Blakeborough would have had a say in it, and he would have put his foot down. He would have had the man’s prospects investigated, and when he found what the lieutenant was apparently trying to hide, your brother would have put a quick end to that courtship.”
“Do you really think so?” she asked wistfully.
“I do. And apparently so did the lieutenant, which is why he pressed the elopement.”
“I suppose.” She fell into a long silence, clearly musing over this new way of looking at things.
“In any case, you obviously didn’t elope.” That would have gotten out somehow. Elopements were hard to keep secret.
“No, but not for any lack of his trying.” She let out an enormous sigh. “When I expressed concern over the idea of running away together, the lieutenant became more, shall we say, aggressive physically.”
Jeremy rose, his blood roaring in his ears once more. “What does that mean, exactly?”
His temper must have showed in his voice, for she cast him a startled look. “Not what you’re clearly thinking, and nothing even as devilish as what you did. I always squelched his attempts to . . . er . . . caress me.” She added archly, “He wasn’t as sly at it as you are. Or as good.”
Out of habit, he said flippantly, “No one is.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t play the rogue with me, Jeremy. I know you better now.”
So she did. “You still haven’t told me how he managed to blackmail you.”
“Oh yes. The truly embarrassing part.” A blush rose up her neck to her cheeks. “Remember, I truly believed he respected me and would never do anything beyond kissing.”
His heart began to pound. “But he did.”
“Sort of. But it was my fault. On his last full day with us, I didn’t protest as I should have when he pulled the door of the music room nearly closed and sat down beside me to kiss me.”
“It was not your fault. He knew what he planned. You did not.”
She rubbed her arms. “But I was also desperate to be alone with him. I knew I wouldn’t see him again for some time. And he’d already told me he intended to consult with Edwin about our marriage after dinner, and then go on to London to speak to Papa.”
“In other words, he said whatever it took to put your guard down so he could attempt to compromise you.”
“I suppose you could look at it that way, yes.”
“That is not the act of an honorable man. At least I warned you what I wanted from you, and gave you the chance to refuse before I even touched you.”
A softness touched her face. “You did, indeed.”
“So what exactly did Ruston do?”
“He . . . slid his hands up my calves beneath my skirts . . . and I let him.” Her gaze turned steely. “When he got to my garters and I protested his actions, he untied one and slipped it into his pocket, saying that surely I wouldn’t mind if he kept a token of my affection for all his lonely nights without me. I was still sitting there with his hand on my stocking, wavering on whether to ask for my garter back, when we were discovered.”
“By Edwin.”
“Actually, no. Although I later learned that the lieutenant had arranged for Edwin to meet us in the music room, my brother had been delayed by some estate business. So we were discovered by the footman who came to inform him of Edwin’s delay.”
“That was a stroke of luck.”
She smiled wanly. “Not exactly. The footman was newly hired. I couldn’t count on him to keep silent, though I asked him to. His arrival spooked me so that I fled, thus thwarting the lieutenant’s scheme to have Edwin find us together doing something naughty. Only later did I remember that the lieutenant still had my garter.”
Her voice hardened. “And my noble swain used it to his advantage. Before dinner, he drew me aside and said that if I didn’t meet him secretly that very night and elope, he would go to Edwin with the garter, demand that my brother call forth the footman to corroborate his story, and then force Edwin and Papa to accept the match by implying that the lieutenant and I . . . that we . . .”
Jeremy bit back a vile oath. He would hunt Ruston down, by God, and he would lop off the bastard’s horn. Damned devious whoreson.
She shuddered. “It was an excellent plan. If a gentleman has had access to a woman’s garter, people assume he’s had access to . . . well, you know. It put me in the most dreadful quandary. Neither Papa nor Edwin would have called his bluff, knowing that the lieutenant could destroy my reputation. Either way, the lieutenant would gain my hand in marriage.”
Her voice caught. “But in the latter case, my family would believe the worst of me.”
The thickness in Jeremy’s throat threatened to choke him. “So what did you do?”
“I begged him to show himself the gentleman I thought him to be and just ask Papa for my hand as he’d originally intended. I was still clinging to the hope that he really did love me. If he had gone through everything properly even then, I probably would have married him.”
“And been miserable for it.”
“No doubt.” She scowled. “But as you say, he must have known that an investigation would turn up something to scotch any wedding, because my pleas only made him protest his great love for me and hold fast to his plans. So when I couldn’t convince him to relent, I went to Samuel with my plight. The lieutenant was his friend, after all.”
“Ah, yes.” Once again, Jeremy wondered about Samuel’s motives for bringing home such a snake in the grass. But perhaps Samuel hadn’t known what his friend was capable of.
Right. And pebbles turned into pearls when the moon was high, too. “So Samuel saved you. How, exactly?”
“At first he said he didn’t think it could be done. He had no idea where his friend might keep the garter, or if the footman could be silenced.” She shook her head. “It was a hopeless case.”
“Yet he somehow managed it,” Jeremy said dryly.
She flashed him a bright smile. “He did. Shortly before the time I was to meet with the lieutenant or else be humiliated before my brother, Samuel turned up in my bedchamber with the garter in hand and a promise he’d extracted from the footman not to say anything to anyone.”
“Did your brother say how he accomplished this miracle?” The story grew more suspicious by the moment. Jeremy was almost certain something else had occurred to put an end to Ruston’s scheme.
“He told me he had prevailed upon Ruston to behave like a gentleman, and that the man had come to his senses and given back the garter before Samuel sent him packing.”
“And you believed that?”
Her face clouded over. “Well, no. Especially not after I heard through gossip a short while later that the lieutenant had eloped with some other heiress. Clearly he was a rogue through and through. And to my knowledge, fortune-hunting rogues don’t have consciences.”
“Not generally, no.”
“But I never heard a word about it, so Samuel must have done something. I suspect he threatened to call the man out.”
Jeremy suspected something else. “How do you know Blakeborough had no hand in it?”
“Edwin? He would have said something to me, I’m sure. At the very least, he would have plagued me about it for all eternity.”
“Perhaps.” It was odd, though. Something rang false in her recitation of events, and given that Samuel’s heroic act was the basis for her risking her reputation looking for the man’s by-blow, it would be good to know the truth.
But he could think of no way to find it out without damaging her reputation.
There was something else he wanted to know, too. “Tell me, Yvette, if Samuel hadn’t successfully interceded on your behalf, what decision would you have made? Would you have eloped? Or taken your chances with your father?”
“I certainly wouldn’t have eloped. At least if I called the lieutenant’s bluff and he went to Edwin first, there was some hope that Edwin might find a way out of it, be able to meet the man’s price or something before Papa heard of it. By that point, I would have taken any chance to prevent having to join myself forever to a man who I began to fear only wanted me for my money.”
“You can’t be sure that was the only reason Ruston wanted you.”
She eyed him askance. “I haven’t had any better offers of marriage in my nearly seven years on the marriage mart. There’s been lots of flirting, but very little courting by respectable gentlemen who weren’t after my fortune. It doesn’t exactly speak well for my ability to attract suitors. Why, even you would rather run off than risk being trapped in a marriage with me.”
His throat tightened. “It’s not like that.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she stared him down. “Then why are you packing a trunk and fleeing in the dead of night?”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what? A life of ruin?”
“Or marriage to a selfish fellow who can’t be what you need.”
She stared mulishly at him. “It couldn’t be worse than a life of lonely spinsterhood.”
“You’d be surprised.” He stayed rooted in place, afraid that if he walked any closer, he would abandon all caution and seize her as his. “You will find someone one day, and you’ll be glad that I left.”
“No. I shall never be glad of that.”
The husky denial pierced his chest. “Ah, but you will. Just as you eventually came to be relieved that you didn’t find yourself trapped in a marriage with Ruston.”
Anger flushed her cheeks as she closed the distance between them, coming near enough that he could smell her sweet scent and see the trembling of her throat.
She thrust her face up to his. “Don’t compare yourself to him. You aren’t remotely alike.”
“No? I took advantage of you, as he did.”
“Hardly. I made my choice at every juncture. You gave me full warning of your intentions, and I accepted your advances. And whenever I protested, you let me go. You didn’t try to wheedle further or come back later to blackmail me with my own wantonness.” She grabbed his arms. “So don’t tell me you and he are the same. You are nothing like him. He wanted only my money, whereas you—”
“Want only your body.” If it took being cruel to make her stop this madness while he could still think, then he would be cruel.
But his words didn’t have the intended effect. “Really?” Her eyes gleamed at him in the lamplight. “Then why are you running away to avoid sharing a bed with me?”
With sharing a bed ringing in his ears, he scowled at her. “Damn it, you have no idea what you’re about.”
“I know that you desire me for my body and more, which isn’t something I’ve had with any other man.” Her breathing quickened. “Do you realize how rare it is for a woman to find someone who understands her, who accepts her as she is?” With a heartbreaking catch in her voice, she murmured, “Don’t leave. I can’t bear it.”
Neither could he. “It doesn’t matter.” He pulled free of her grip. “Without me, you have a future.”
“As what? Edwin’s hostess? Clarissa’s friend?”
“You’re young still.”
“As are you!” She fisted her hands at her sides. “Do you really expect me to believe that you’re perfectly happy being alone, flitting from place to place, never settling, never knowing the joy of steady companionship?”
That she had delved beneath everything to find the hard knot of loneliness inside him struck terror in his soul. “Not happy, no, but content. It’s better than making another wife miserable.”
Frustration lit her features. “Then don’t marry me. Give me what we both want. You want me in your bed, and I want one blessed night with a man who likes what he sees when he looks at me, who doesn’t think me shrewish or ungainly or too bold.”
Thunderation. “You’re being too bold now,” he pointed out, though it fired his blood as nothing else could.
She moved so close that her mouth was a breath from his. “That’s what happens when a woman craves fire and life and the thrill of the night for too long. She gets tired of waiting for it to come to her, and she goes out to grab it for herself. I’ve followed the rules my whole life, and what has it gained me? For once, I want to know what I’m missing. And you’re the only man I want to show me.”
The words stiffened his prick to pain. “If I show you any more than I have, I’ll ruin you.”
“I know. And I don’t care.”
He caught her head in his hands, needing to touch her, if only to shake some sense into her. “You’ll care a great deal if you find yourself big with my child.”
Though that seemed to give her pause, she didn’t pull away. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“But not one I’m willing to take. I won’t leave you with a babe on the way. Which means I’ll have to marry you, and I—”
“Don’t want to marry, yes, I know.” She raised an eyebrow. “So much for your claim to selfishness. A selfish man wouldn’t care if he ruined me. A selfish man wouldn’t care if I were left enceinte.”
“You don’t know a damned thing about what a selfish man wants.”
It was time to demonstrate exactly how unwise this was. He hauled her against his fully aroused body. “You want to see what a selfish man does when confronted with a woman he desires? Fine. I’ll show you.” Then he took her mouth with all the savage hunger roiling up inside him.
He wasn’t gentle or tender or kind. He manacled her to him with one arm while gripping her chin with the other, so he could plunder and devour to his heart’s content. He gave her no time to breathe, allowed her no space to retreat.
But she didn’t seem to want to retreat. She rose to his rough kiss like an eagle to the sky. It was heaven.
It was hell.
He told himself that once she saw the fierceness of his need, she would balk. Then when she withdrew, he’d finally be able to let her go, before he took what he wanted.
The trouble was, he wanted so very much. He wanted her mouth opening and her clothes opening and her lush body opening to let his raging prick inside . . .
With a growl, he tore off her wrapper and tossed it aside, then filled his hands with her breasts. As long as she kept her night rail on, he might be safe. And he could touch and caress and still enjoy some part of her.
But then she uttered a soft mew of satisfaction that sent his blood into wild riot, and she began working to loosen his clothes, too. God help him. He would destroy every painting he’d ever created just to have her hands on his naked body.
Before he could even make a conscious choice, he was shedding his coat and waistcoat and helping her untie his cravat.
Angry with himself for his easy acquiescence, he stopped her when she reached for the buttons of his shirt. “You first,” he ordered. “Take off your night rail.”
If there was one thing his Juno didn’t like, it was being ordered about.
So the minute she began to unbutton her frilly linen gown, he groaned. She wasn’t retreating or balking, damn it.
At least he would get to see those lovely full breasts hanging free, so one day he could paint them from memory and have them forever, just for him. Besides, surely she still had on her drawers and he would still be safe.
Although she wouldn’t, if anyone stumbled in on them.
Keeping his eyes on her shaky fingers and the flesh exposed with each undone button, he strode to the main door into the hall and latched it, then leaned back against it to watch her. And to steady himself. Because just the sight of her unfastening her clothing was getting him hard as a pike.
By the time she finished, her cheeks were the pink of peonies. But being the stubborn minx she was, she soldiered on, pulling the night rail off over her head and dropping it on the floor.
She wore no drawers beneath it. She wore nothing at all.
His pulse jumped into a stampede.
Almighty God in heaven, never had he seen a woman with such curves. It wasn’t just her ample breasts with their velvety, carmine-tinged nipples, though he did enjoy those. It was also the lush hips that he couldn’t wait to grab hold of and the creamy thighs that would put Titian’s Venuses to shame. It was the thick thatch of umber curls that hid the delicate flesh he’d tasted only nights ago.
When he saw the beauty of her nude form, more enticing than that of any model he’d ever painted, he grew even more desperate to show her how dangerous this was, how dangerous he was. He had to bring her to her senses before he lost control entirely. He must drag her down into the depths with him, as he’d nearly done at the brothel, and show her just how coarse he could be. That ought to send her running for the door before she lost her virtue.
And if it didn’t?
Then God help them both.