A Lady at Last (23 page)

Papa had lied to her for her entire life. They had never married. Had he even stolen her from Mama's arms?

Had Mama ever loved her?

Mama didn't want her.

Her heart was beating again. It was bursting through her frozen self-restraint, beating in furious protest against her chest, slam, bam, slam.

He put his arm around her. “You're in shock.”

She jerked savagely free and the ice melted, whoosh. “She doesn't want me.”

“I didn't say that,” he said very carefully.

But she saw the truth in his eyes. “I'm a bastard.”

He inhaled. “Many children are born out of wedlock,” he began. “Like Alexi and Ariella.”

“Good!” she cried, her vision blurring now. “I'm glad, because bastards aren't ladies. And now—” she tore the wrapper off and flung it at him “—now I can be exactly what I want to be!”

He seized her hand. “I'm going to get you a drink,” he said.

“And that is not a goddamned lady!” She jerked free, gripping her bodice furiously, wanting to tear the offending garment off. “I want my breeches,” she cried, but the material refused to rip.

“Amanda, stop!” Cliff tried, sounding desperate, grasping her hands.

But she was in a profound rage. She was never going to prance about, pretending to be a lady, again! She shoved him away, vaguely aware that his face was white with shock, but it was hard to see now, her vision was so blurred. She hated them both. She hated Papa, the biggest liar on the face of the earth, and she hated Mama, who was a whore, not a lady—who didn't love or want her bastard daughter. She whirled, finding her dagger in her boot. She heard Cliff cry out in alarm, but she had never been more determined. She slashed through the beautiful nightgown, one long perfect line, cutting it in two. She hated it now. She would never wear it again or anything else that any lady might want.

“Don't! You'll hurt yourself!” she thought he said, and he seized her wrist. She screamed, whirling on him and he leaped away, blood dripping from his hand. But she couldn't care, because nothing was real, everything was a lie, and she tore the tattered gown from her body and sliced savagely at the cotton and lace again. She would destroy the gown, her new life, everything.

And she gasped, a stabbing pain trying to cut into her heart the way she had cut into so much cotton.
Mama didn't want her. Papa had lied
. She let go of the dagger. It clattered onto the floor.

Amanda closed her eyes, fighting her comprehension and the pain, but the ugly refrain had become a haunting melody in her mind.

And then, finally, she realized she was not alone.

She looked up at de Warenne.

Tears streaked his beautiful face.

She shook her head, rebelling. “Don't cry,” she whispered. Because she was fine. She hated Mama anyway. And she hated Papa now, too. And as she looked at him she felt a terrible desperation, because she was truly adrift, lost and adrift, with nowhere to go, no destination and no beacon to guide her.

“Come here,” he whispered. He went to her, touching her arms. Amanda did not hesitate and he pulled her against his body, wrapping her firmly in his embrace. For one instant, she stood there, in the safest and securest place possible, a harbor that felt like home. For that one instant, she clung. He was her lifeline.

And then she realized she was nude, and that his body was hard, powerful and strong, molded to hers. She realized how much she loved him and how much she needed him. There was so much desire. The cold vanished; heat flared. Amanda looked up, shocked by the throbbing hunger in her. He stiffened with surprise and comprehension, but she didn't care. She felt the hardness coming instantly between them. “Cliff,” she whispered, touching his face.

And his eyes turned to flames. He pulled her impossibly closer, springing harder and fuller against her, his mouth covering hers. Amanda gasped, the pain in her chest warring with the heated pleasure throbbing inside her, and then she kissed him back, more desperately and more frantically than he was doing. He gasped, his hands closing on both of her buttocks, molding her to his pulsing loins and carrying her that way to the bed. He pushed her onto the mattress, coming down on top of her, his hard thighs pinning her legs wide. Amanda gasped as his massive manhood pulsed against her sex.

He began licking her lips while rocking against her, and his hand stroked one perfect motion over her breast, down her rib cage, past her navel and into the hot wetness of her delta.

She loved him so.
Amanda cried out as the pure pleasure begin, a wonderful spiral promising to send her so far away she would never want to come back.

He knew. His thighs pushed hers even wider. He reached between them, grunting, and she felt his phallus spring free. Amanda could not stand it and when he rocked against her, slick, hot and hard, so that she rode his entire length, she wept, exploding into a million pieces.

“Amanda,” he gasped against her ear, pushing restlessly against her.

She didn't hear and began to float back into his arms. But then she thought,
Mama
, in so much anguish and so much despair, and the pain that wracked through her was beyond excruciation.

He froze. “Amanda?” Holding her in his arms, he shifted his erection against her thigh.

Oh God. Papa had lied, Mama didn't want her…. She turned toward de Warenne and the pain engulfing her. She wept against his chest.

Cliff pulled her closer, holding her tightly, but it was a long time before her sobs were spent.

 

A
MANDA STARED
out of the window of her bedroom as the sun crept upward into the sky, a melody of birdsong filling the damp morning, a cool breeze on her cheek.

She turned to look at the bed, leaving the window open. Cliff was gone, but he had stayed there until dawn, because every time she had awoken, he had held her and stroked her until her tears had subsided. Now, the grief was gone. Papa had betrayed her and she would never think of him again. As for Mama, well, it had been exactly what she had thought. Mama was a snooty lady with airs and she didn't want her pirate's daughter. Amanda didn't care.

But she cared about Cliff de Warenne. And it wasn't de Warenne anymore, it was
Cliff.
She began to smile.

She hugged herself, standing there naked by the window.

He had made love to her last night. He had shown her so much passion and given her so much pleasure, chasing away the pain. He might not have taken her virginity, because her grief had come between them, but he would, and soon. Everything was going to be different now. They were lovers. There was no going back.

And if they were lovers, didn't that mean she could sail the world with him on his ship? There was no need now to enter society. She had never been more relieved, and she was almost happy.

Amanda began to get dressed.

 

H
E HADN
'
T SLEPT ALL
night. And when Amanda had finally fallen asleep in his arms, he had chosen to stay with her. Although he knew it would be her ruin if a maid found them in bed together, he was even more afraid that she would wake up and suffer in heartache again alone, with no one to comfort her. He had held her until he was satisfied she was so exhausted and emotionally spent that she would sleep until the morning. A few hours before dawn, he had slipped from her room.

He had not gone to his own bed. He was haunted by the sight of Amanda slicing her nightgown into ribbons; by the pain he had witnessed. He could damn her father and mother from now until eternity, but that would not ease her anguish. How much could one small woman bear, he wondered.

Last night, he had lost all reason and he had been about to make love to her. Dulcea Belford didn't want her, but he did. He had been fueled by a fierce and consuming need to make her his own. In the light of day, he was shaken, and he could not comprehend such possessive feelings. If she had not begun to weep, he would have taken her innocence, and then what?

He would have added to her sorrow.

He knew what he had to do. He must keep a firm distance from her. There would be no more visits to her bedroom. He would avoid being alone with her at all costs.

Now, he sat alone in the breakfast room, pretending to read the
London Times
, when he could not focus on a single word. The entire house rose early—Lizzie and Eleanor were up with their children, in spite of the nurses they employed, and the countess enjoyed a walk in her gardens just after sunrise. As Cliff stared at the paper, Rex came inside, followed by Eleanor. He saw them exchange looks.

“What happened to you last night?” Eleanor asked, taking a seat. “Did you go on a bender?” She reached for a pastry.

“When the countess arrives, I have an announcement that I wish to make.”

Rex also sat. “Is this in reference to what we discussed last night?”

Cliff toyed with his cup of cold coffee. “Yes.” As he spoke, the countess came in, her cheeks flushed from her morning walk.

“Good morning,” Mary de Warenne said brightly. She went right to Cliff and kissed his cheek. “We never had a chance to greet each other yesterday. Rather, we passed one another like two ships in the night.” Her smile faded as he looked up. “I am so happy you have come home, but now I am worried. What is wrong? Why do you look so grim?”

“I am fine, but Amanda is not.” He stood up. “You have yet to meet her, but I take it Rex and Eleanor have filled you in?”

The countess studied him. “Eleanor said she is your guest and that you have brought her to London so she might meet her only living family. Rex has inferred that you are her champion?”

Cliff managed a smile. “Actually, there is more.” When he had their attention, he said, “I saw her father before he died. His last dying wish was that I become Amanda's guardian.”

Expressions of surprise and disbelief greeted him. Before anyone could object and point out that he had a notorious reputation, one that made him unfit to be the guardian of any young woman, he said, “I was reluctant to agree. No more. It is official and I will have any necessary papers drawn up. As of this moment, Amanda Carre is my ward.”

I
TWAS
E
LEANOR WHO
began to laugh. Everyone else seemed very surprised. “How can you guard the virtue of any woman?” she said. “I saw you in her room yesterday afternoon. Does she still have her virtue?”

“Eleanor!” the countess protested.

Cliff stood up, his chair scraping back. “We had some matters to discuss, Eleanor, not that it is your concern. And I suggest you think twice about accusing me of stealing Amanda's virtue.” But last night, he had almost done just that—and not for the first time. His sister was infamous for her snooping ways. It was fortunate she had not walked in on them last night.

Eleanor was wide-eyed and taken aback. “You must be smitten! You are so touchy! The brother I know is absolutely indifferent to such accusations. Besides, you have never tried to hide an affair.”

“We are not having an affair. She is seventeen years old—she is my ward!” he cried. He felt himself flush as he turned his back to her, facing the countess. “I had hoped that her mother would have the honor of a guardianship, but as it turns out, she wants nothing to do with her own daughter. Do you know Lady Belford?”

“I do. That is terrible,” Mary cried. “But I understand her predicament. She must be afraid of ruin. Still, to reject one's own daughter is inexcusable! Cliff, have you told Miss Carre?”

He hesitated, exchanging a glance with Rex, the entire terrible evening flashing through his mind. “Yes. She did not take it well.” He added, “She is distraught. I am asking all of you to go out of your way to be kind to her. She just lost her father and now there is this.”

The countess, Eleanor and Rex exchanged glances. “Of course we will be kind,” the countess said softly. “Rex said her background was somewhat dubious, Cliff?”

He sighed. “Her father was hanged for piracy.”

Mary started.

“She has had a difficult life. I was hoping to secure a far brighter future for her. If you knew the details of how she was raised, your blood would curdle. No woman should have had to live as she had. Her father was a harsh man.”

Eleanor stood and walked over to him. “I had no idea. Cliff, I am sorry for being so insensitive. But when I saw you two together, I assumed you were lovers, even if she is too young for your taste and not the type of woman you prefer.”

He smiled at her, relieved. “You assumed wrongly. The two of you have a bit in common,” he said. “Even though you are an earl's daughter, you were raised with five boys. She grew up on the deck of a ship amongst sailors. The both of you ran wild. I would especially like your help in this endeavor, Eleanor, if you will give it.”

She kissed his cheek. “Of course I shall. I am fascinated now. Have you undertaken to acquire a wardrobe for her? She cannot run about town in her breeches.”

“I have and Madame Didier will be here at noon. Eleanor, she has never worn a dress.”

Eleanor stared, as did the countess. Then the two women looked at each other. “We will help her make what must be a huge adjustment,” the countess said with a smile. “But I must ask, what will you say about her family?”

“Fortunately, her father was a naval officer before he took up piracy. I will twist the truth slightly and maintain that he left the service to become a planter in the islands, as many officers really did. I'll maintain her mother died when she was a small child, and in the hopes of sticking closely to the truth, her mother's family comes from Cornwall, but Amanda is the last of the line.”

“That will do, I think, at least for now. And may I assume you are launching her into society in the hopes of procuring a husband for her?” the countess asked.

He tensed. “That is putting the cart before the horse. Amanda is not ready for suitors. She needs six months before she is launched.” He looked at everyone. “On the voyage here, she began instruction in decorum and etiquette. She did not know how to read, but she is already reading as well as Alexi. She is very clever and I know she can excel at anything she chooses to do. But I must tell you this—she is terrified of being mocked and ridiculed by the ton. She has suffered such humiliation from the ladies on the island. I will take any and all advice.”

“The poor child,” the countess said softly. “We will all help, of course we will.”

“Cliff, why don't we make certain she is a success from the start?” Eleanor said brightly.

Cliff faced her. “What do you mean?”

“We must begin by calling on our dearest friends, those who will receive Amanda graciously no matter any misstep on her part.”

His brows raised; he liked the idea. “And her confidence will begin to grow.”

Eleanor grinned at him.

“I have a suggestion,” Rex said. “There is no one as gracious as Lady Harrington.”

“And I remain good friends with her,” Mary added. “I'll speak to her at once. Blanche would be perfect for Amanda's first call.”

Cliff knew Lady Harrington very vaguely. Once, his brother Tyrell had been betrothed to her. She was one of the most pleasant and unassuming ladies he knew, as well as one of the greatest heiresses in the realm. “I approve.”

“The Carrington ball might be the perfect time for a formal coming-out,” the countess said.

He hesitated. “I prefer an informal launch, Mother. But isn't that in a month?”

“It is a wonderful affair,” Eleanor said eagerly. “I have always enjoyed their balls! They never have more than a hundred and fifty guests, so for a ball it is rather small. If she is ready, Cliff, it would be the perfect opportunity for her.”

Before he could respond, the countess spoke, “You must not wait six months to begin a search for suitors, Cliff. It isn't easy to find an impoverished gentlewoman a good match, much less a gentlewoman with a dubious family background. You must start assessing suitors right away. Unless you are very fortunate, this will take some time. Does she have a dowry?”

He knew Mary was right. It wasn't going to be easy to find Amanda the kind of husband she deserved. He folded his arms across his chest, disturbed. It was as if a snowball had been set in motion, and was about to become an avalanche. But Amanda needed a husband; that was obvious. It was just as obvious that she wasn't polished enough to be courted, despite the progress she'd made. He sighed. “I'll provide the dowry. I'll have my agents find a small but successful estate and we'll put it in Carre's name in trust for her. In fact, I'll get on that right away. We should all begin thinking of possible suitors for her, as you are right. Finding a good match won't be easy.”

Mary took his arm. “Darling, Rex said she is a beauty, and that will certainly help. We will all compile a list of suitors. Let me know the moment you have secured her dowry.” The countess glanced past him, her smile vanishing.

Everyone turned to face the doorway. Amanda stood there in his shirt, her breeches and boots. She was white with shock.

Cliff hurried to her, noting that her eyes were red from weeping. “Good morning,” he said, smiling too brightly. “Would you like to meet my stepmother? We are all having breakfast.”

Amanda gave him a hurt, incredulous look. She had clearly heard them discussing her prospects and he winced, wishing he had modified their discussion. He took her arm. “Come, meet my stepmother.”

Mary swept forward, smiling warmly. “Welcome to the family, my dear,” she cried, taking both of Amanda's hands in hers. “If you are Cliff's ward, we are all entrusted with your care, and delighted at the prospect.”

Amanda seemed stunned. She mumbled, “My lady.”

“I do not stand on formalities, my dear, not when we are among family.” Mary kissed her cheek and released her. “I am so sorry about the losses you have recently suffered. Is there anything I can do?”

Amanda was blushing now. Incapable of speech, she shook her head. “No,” she finally whispered. “Thank you.”

He was relieved she had shown some polish. He touched her. “Can we have a word after you eat?”

She tore her gaze away from the countess, her eyes huge. “I need to speak to you now,” she said hoarsely.

Instantly he recalled kissing her, holding her, his passion beyond control. His heart picked up a far different beat, and he knew she was thinking of that moment of madness, too. He nodded slowly. “Excuse us,” he said, guiding her from the room.

In the library, he closed both doors behind them. “How are you feeling, Amanda?” he began. He did not want to discuss last night. He did not know what he could possibly say to justify his reprehensible actions.

“I heard you!” she cried in disbelief. “You were talking about suitors and a dowry!”

“That is what a guardian does for his ward, Amanda. How else could I secure your future?”

She was impossibly pale. “You are not my guardian,” she began.

“I have officially declared it. To make certain there is no doubt, I will have some papers drawn up, making it appear that Carre granted your care to me.”

It was a moment before she spoke. “If being your ward means I am to be rushed into marriage by
you
, then I do not want to be your ward!”

“I know you are frightened,” he began.

“Last night I was in
your
bed!” she accused, her eyes wide with hurt. “Last night you kissed me many times. I thought we were lovers!”

He turned white, shocked. It was hard to speak. “We are not lovers. Last night was a mistake. It will never happen again. You are still a virgin!”

“Barely!” She approached, shaking her head wildly. “You held me and kissed me. Your tongue was in my throat, your hand between my legs! How can you say we are not lovers?”

He knew he was red. “I lost control,” he tried.

“And it wasn't the first time!” she exclaimed, trembling. “On the ship, after the storm. I thought I was dreaming, but I wasn't, was I? You made love to me on the
Fair Lady!”

“I lost control,” he repeated stiffly. How stupid he sounded. “You are terribly beautiful and vastly tempting, but it is wrong. You deserve a husband—”

“I don't want a husband. I want you.”

He stared. She stared back, pale and trembling.

“I am not making you my lover,” he managed, shaken. “One night of foreplay does not make us lovers. I was overcome with lust. But I only wanted to comfort you. I have claimed you as my ward to protect you from rakes like myself.”

She started to back away, shaking her head. “Last night changed everything!”

“Last night did change everything. You cannot go to Belford House, so you have become my ward. Now it is my duty to provide for you.” With difficulty, he found some calm. “You need a husband, Amanda. All women do.”

She tried to speak and failed. She tried again. “You could be my husband.”

He was stunned. All thought vanished, and there was only the slender beautiful woman standing before him, asking him to marry her.

She was shaking, clearly afraid. “I turned eighteen yesterday.” She swallowed. “If I have to marry, why not you? I am woman enough to bed down with you and you know it. I could please you greatly—I am certain! And I could give up this pretense. We could sail together! I may not be a fancy lady, but I know you want me. You like me and we are shipmates. I could even give you more children, because I am so young!”

She was asking him to marry her.

He had to sit down.
It was terribly intriguing, the thought of her with him on his quarterdeck, riding any oncoming storm together, sailing into eternity. And afterward, falling into his bed, with her, Amanda as wild and passionate as the wind-driven seas.

She hesitated, coming closer. “You do like me, a little? We are mates, aren't we?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He tried again. “I do like you. Of course I do. But you are a woman and my ward, not my shipmate.” He now chose his words with great care.

She was disbelieving. “We have conquered the high seas together!”

He stood abruptly. “I have no intention of ever marrying anyone. Why would I?” He fought for calm, and then spoke more quietly. “Amanda, I have children I adore. I do not need more. I do not need to marry for financial reasons. I couldn't care less about acquiring a title. I do not believe in love. There is no lucid reason for me to ever consider marriage.”

Her cheeks became crimson.

“And I like to philander,” he pleaded. She was obviously stricken. “I always have and I always will. You already know that. No woman could survive a marriage to me if I did take those vows.”

She hugged herself. “Of course you should not marry…not me…I didn't really mean it…. I am just confused.”

He wanted to rush to her and embrace her. Of course she was confused. She had just learned that she was a bastard, that her mother didn't want her and he had been very intimate with her. “I would break your heart, Amanda—and I believe it has been broken enough for one young life.”