Devil's Desire (10 page)

Sir Jason had pulled up another chair for himself, and was about to sit down when he stopped, apparently aghast. "How remiss of me," he groaned as if filled with remorse, "what will you think of my manners? Allow me to introduce," he apologized as he indicated the man who had acted so abominably to Elysia, and who had been sitting quietly watching, throughout their exchange, "Lord Trevegne, the Marquis of St. Fleur, and you are Miss . . . ?"

"Miss Elysia Demarice," she extended her hand with its long tapering fingers to Sir Jason, and then to Lord Trevegne, who had risen lazily to his feet at the introduction.

"Miss Demarice," he drawled, taking her hand and bowing elegantly over it. Elysia suddenly pulled her hand free, feeling a shock run through her at the touch of his strong fingers. They could be cruel hands, she thought, as she gazed hypnotically at the strange gold ring on his little finger that reflected the gold of his eyes-odd eyes under heavy lids, that seemed to penetrate her mind, reading her innermost thoughts.

"'Ere you are Miss, a nice 'o toddy to warm ye up nicely,'" Tibbitts interrupted, breaking the spell that seemed to hold Elysia. He put the steaming mug into Elysia's hands and looked around, a frown on his florid face. " 'Avent ye any baggage, Miss?"

"No, I have not, with the exception of that straw bag," Elysia said indicating it sitting forlornly by itself near the door. "I'm traveling light," she added, a small smile tugging at the comers of her mouth as she thought of all her earthly possessions tucked neatly away in that bag. Tibbitts shrugged, and went out carrying her bag with him.
            
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"You are traveling so lightly, Miss Demarice, and in such foul weather," the Marquis said softly, "that one is tempted to wonder why? You aren't by any chance, one of these tiresome females running away from home to elope, a pack of hysterical relations in hot pursuit? I shudder at the thought of being confronted here in the inn and accused of being an accomplice or even the prospective groom, heaven forbid," he said derisively, taking a pinch of snuff.

"That, M'Lord, happens to be my private business, and of concern only to myself,” Elysia answered shortly, "but, if it will set you at rest, then I will reassure you that I am not fleeing my home to elope. I should indeed hate to cause you any nervousness on that account, nor could I imagine a more unlikely candidate as the prospective groom, M'Lord," Elysia added acidly. She felt dismayed at how close he had come to the truth, as two spots of bright color stained her high cheekbones.

Lord Trevegne looked at her with narrowed eyes that had a gleam in them as Elysia stared back defiantly. Finally, a crooked smile appeared on his harsh face.

"Demarice? That name sounds familiar." Sir Jason was looking at Elysia as if trying to recognize something about her face which alluded him, when a look of revelation cleared it. "Charles Demarice! That's it," he exclaimed. "He's your father, isn't he? But of course, he would have to be with those eyes of yours. You know he's nicknamed Cat Demarice because his eyes. slant upwards just like a cat's—and by God, so do yours. It's like looking at a cat."

Elysia blushed with embarrassment as both men stared openly at her face, and then she felt the Marquis' eyes slowly appraising the rest of her appearance, making her feel plain and dowdy in comparison to his elegant coat of satin and velvet, and his spotlessly clean linen. She could see the puzzlement in their eyes, they must be wondering what Charles Demarice's daughter was doing dressed in rags.

"Where is he? I haven't seen him in London in years. Almost forgotten all about him, been so long," Sir Jason asked Curiously.

"My father died over two years ago, as did my mother. They were both killed when their phaeton overturned," Elysia said quietly, a shadow of grief entering her eyes, darkening them as she remembered her agony when given the news.

"I say, I'm awfully sorry," Sir Jason apologized contritely. “I hadn't the faintest idea of your loss. Please accept my condolences on so great a misfortune."

"I sometimes think that it was kinder that they died together, as they did, for I doubt whether they could have survived without each other, so much in love were they."

"How extraordinary! One seldom finds such devotion between man and wife, in fact, Lord Trevegne here, doesn't even believe in love—especially in marriage. Am I not correct, M'Lord?" Sir Jason asked the . bored-looking Marquis pointedly.

"Quite correct. Love exists only in the minds of impoverished poets catering to the fantasies of adolescents and old maids," Lord Trevegne answered sarcastically, a sneer on his lips.

"You show your ignorance of the finer things with a statement like that, M'Lord—but then I would expect little else from a London gentleman," Elysia refuted angrily.

"Really, and I suppose you have experienced this state of bliss to be envied by mortals and gods alike?" he taunted.

"No, I have not, but—“

"Then you know nothing about it, or if I am not mistaken—passion either. You know only what you have seen, or read about. I find most women fit into two categories; either they are romantic sentimentalists, with tears for every occasion, or mercenary opportunists, out to get what they can." Lord Trevegne looked at Elysia questioningly. "Now which are you, I wonder?" His long lips curled slightly as he added to the insult. "But with your looks, you shouldn't have any trouble having your every little wish granted by some poor besotted fool."

. "I am neither, M'Lord," Elysia replied clearly and coldly, looking directly into the Marquis' golden eyes. "I am a realist. One who knows that most men are inhuman beasts, intent on their own selfish desires, without a thought as to the feelings of others around them—especially, if one is unfortunate enough to be the wife of one of those overgrown schoolboys," Elysia said contemptuously, warming to her subject as she continued, her small, rounded chin thrust forward arrogantly. "I indeed pity your wife, M'Lord, if that is the opinion you hold of the female sex. But then, as I stated once before, I would expect little else from one of your set. The London gentleman ha! Gentleman, indeed! Your knavery is only exceeded by your narcissism, and I for one think women far better off without your egotistical presence and should hold your whole sex in contempt."

Elysia stopped breathlessly, scandalized by her own behavior, and a trifle confused by her diatribe to the rather astonished-looking Marquis. He almost looked disconcerted, something she doubted he ever was. But she refused to apologize for only defending herself from his insults.

"Touché," Sir Jason said amusedly, having enjoyed the exchange immensely. He clapped his hands in appreciation, causing a blush to appear on Elysia's cheeks in mortification. "Well, well, you certainly gave the Marquis a dressing down, which is something that no one has ever done I'll wager, eh, M'Lord?" Sir Jason smiled. "You will forgive me, Miss Demarice, for being one of that odious sex you so despise, and allow me to continue to enjoy your delightful company," Sir Jason pleaded, a twinkle softening his blue eyes. "Did you ever meet Miss Demarice's parents, Trevegne" he asked conversationally, turning to the Marquis as the tension died down.

"I had the pleasure of meeting your parents. once or twice, if memory serves me correctly. They very seldom came to London, I believe." Lord Trevegne paused. “But I can remember your mother vividly. You have the same color hair she had."

The Marquis stared rudely at her, making Elysia feel that it was a crime to have her color hair. She fingered a bright curl lovingly, and thought that she couldn't care less if that odious man approved of her or not

She thankfully excused herself as Tibbitts brought in her dinner and placed it down on the large table. Elysia sat down and hungrily began to eat the plump pigeon pie, and slice of beef and fresh green peas, sweet and tasty, set before her. It seemed a feast to her, so used was she to the plain unappetizing meals at Aunt Agatha's.

Aunt Agatha. She wondered what she was doing right now? Probably cursing her with every breath in her thin, bony body, Elysia thought wryly. But her amusement faded as she remembered the strength of those long, thin fingers as they had shaken her shoulder in a merciless grip, and of the punishment Agatha would enjoy giving her should she ever find her.

She stared down at the piping hot pigeon pie, nervously biting her lip as she wondered if she had done the right thing? If she could possibly succeed in finding a job in London, if . . .

"Isn't it good?" an amused voice asked, and Elysia glanced up into the smiling face of Sir Jason. She supposed he really was quite nice, in spite of his airs and brightly-colored clothes. As much as she detested the arrogant Marquis, she had to admit that he was dressed more to her liking in a fawn-colored riding coat, and pale buckskins that accentuated his muscular thighs above his highly-polished black Hessian boots. No one could mistake him for a dandy she thought. His clothes and his rude manner belied that.

"Mmmm, it's quite delicious," Elysia said breathing deeply, "and I know I'm not being very ladylike eating all of it, but I'm just famished."

Sir Jason sat staring at Elysia as if seeing a ghost, or vision of something extraordinary, a meditative look in his light-blue eyes.

"Surely you are not alone in the world, now that your parents are dead?" Sir Jason asked. "You must have other relatives with whom you've been staying and who would be upset to have you traveling alone?"

"Yes, I have relatives," Elysia answered noncommittally as she finished off the pie, beginning to wish Sir Jason was not quite so friendly and inquisitive, for the less said about Aunt Agatha the better. But Sir Jason seemed satisfied by her answers, and stood up excusing himself, saying mysteriously:

"My dear Miss Demarice, tonight a certain prophesy told to me by a gypsy has come true, and I am extremely grateful to you.

Elysia smiled at his somewhat cryptic remark, not understanding him at all, but too tired to question him. She rose quietly from the table after finishing her dinner, and left the room, not disturbing the two gentlemen as they sat at a smaller table absorbed in their game of cards. As Elysia climbed up the rough wooden stairs, she heard the door at the entrance of the inn open. Glancing back over her shoulder she saw a rotund gentleman enter, throwing his rain splattered coat down upon a narrow bench set against the wall as he yelled for the innkeeper, then made his way over to where the other two gentlemen were sitting.

Elysia went on down the dark hall, past several doors to her own, where Tibbitts had told her he had put her bag, and entered, closing the door softly behind her. She felt so tired, so drained of all emotion as she removed her dress, pulled on her nightdress, and sank gratefully down on the bed.

She hadn't planned to stay overnight at an inn, thinking the mail coach would travel straight to London. She took out her precious horde of money, which was quickly diminishing in size. She'd had to pay close to five pence a mile, plus tips to the coach':' man and guard who rode along to guard the mail from highwaymen. She would have to pay for her meal and room, and the rest of the journey tomorrow. She . had hoped her money would last until she reached London, but doubted now that she would even have enough to rent a -room until acquiring a position. Well, she would have to worry about that when she got there.

Elysia was about to climb into bed when there was a knock on the door, and opening it a crack she saw Tibbitts standing there with a small mug of some steaming liquid in his hands.

"Compliments of the gentleman, Sir Jason, miss," he said handing it to her. "To 'elp ye keep warm and get a good night's sleep 'e says to tell ye."

"Thank you," Elysia murmured accepting the hot drink gratefully, "and will you please extend my warmest 'thank you' to Sir Jason."
 
 

She closed the door and, warming her hands on the mug, thought that maybe she had been hasty. Maybe all London gentlemen were not rogues to be feared. Elysia drank down all of the delicious rum-flavored brew, feeling it spread throughout her chilled body. She felt a little fuzzy as she got into bed and slipped under the covers. It must be the rum she thought foggily. She just wasn't used to spirits; but she did feel so warm and nice now, Elysia snuggled down further into the bed, and drifted off into a deep sleep.

I met a Lady in the Meads

 
Full beautiful, a faery's child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light

And her eyes were wild.

                                                  
Keats

Chapter 5

Elysia felt all upside down. Hazy mists drifted through her mind in lazy swirls.

Curly locks, Curly locks,

Wilt thou be mine?

Thou shalt not wash dishes

Nor yet feed the swine.

But sit on a cushion

And sew a fine seam,

And feed upon strawberries,

Sugar and cream.

Strawberries? They were out of season now, but she did like them with sugar and cream. She giggled,

Little Polly Flinders

Sat among the cinders,

Warming her pretty little toes

Her mother came and caught her,

And whipped her little daughter

For spoiling her nice new clothes.

What nice new clothes? She hadn't had any nice new clothes in a long time. It would be nice to eat strawberries and cream in nice new clothes. Oooh . . . her head ached. What was wrong with her? She was too old for these school-room and nursery rhymes. She could hear rain beating against the windowpane; she wouldn't be able to go out and play,

Rain, rain, go away,

Come again another day.

The rain beating against the glass became louder, and Elysia opened her eyes sleepily, staring at the crystal-like rivulets of water as they ran down the pane, like tiny elfin streams. Elysia closed her eyes and tried to recapture her dream, but it was too elusive to remember, and she felt herself drifting along, as if on a cloud, and smiled complacently. She should open her eyes and wake up, but she felt so warm and rested, her .eyelids so heavy and weighed down, that she seriously doubted whether she could open them. It was too bleak and cold a morning to be out of bed anyway.

She rolled sideways, hugging her pillow, and heard the steady beating of her heart. It sounded as if it were in her ear. And now she could hear two hearts beating. What foolishness was this? She didn't have two hearts she thought drowsily, her mind clouded by an odd thickness.

Elysia struggled to re-open her eyes, the lids flickering slowly as she tried to focus. Everything looked indistinct. She stared down at the pillow beneath her cheek in confusion. It looked like a man's chest.

Elysia gave a gasp and looked up into the sleeping face of a man. The Marquis! Her eyes widened as she became aware that she was lying curled up against him with her leg intimately wedged in between his legs as he lay on his back; her arm draped across his hairy, muscular chest.
               
 

She cautiously moved over, trying to sit up, but felt light-headed as she stared about the room. What was he doing in her room? But no, it was not her room. She was in a strange room! Elysia felt panic race within her—how could this be? Last night she had been in her own room—that she knew for a certainty—so what was she doing in here with a strange man in bed with her? Oh, God, what had happened? How could she and the Marquis be sharing a bed?

Elysia threw back her side of the quilt and stretched out her legs to jump from the bed and realized that they were bare! She looked down in shock at her long slender thighs, and yanked them back under the cover, trembling at the discovery.

She was naked! Where was her nightdress? She looked frantically around the .room while cowering beneath 'the covers, but could see no sign of it anywhere, She bit her fingernail nervously, giving the sleeping Marquis a suspicious look. Could he have done this? No, he had taken a violent dislike to her when they first met. And for some reason, she instinctively knew that he did not seem the type to play this sort of game, or whatever it was. But she knew that she must get out of the room before he awoke and . . . and then what? For if he was innocent of this deed, then he would no doubt believe the worst-that she had come into his room . . . and into his bed. Oh, dear! What was she to do?

Elysia heard him give a deep sigh, and stretch, feeling deepening terror at the thought of his waking and finding her here. In her panic she jumped up and started to race for the door, then gave a terrified shriek as she felt hard hands reach out and pull her back onto the big bed before she could take more than a step. She fought like a wild cat, her hands and feet flying, trying to scratch and kick at him, but he was too quick and strong for her, and Elysia found herself pinned beneath his hard body, her arms stretched above her head in a vise-like grip, her legs held down by his-her unclad body pressed intimately to his naked one. They were both breathing heavily, her shocked green eyes, wide and dilated, staring into his surprised golden ones-neither of them speaking-their eyes locked together.

She watched as a crooked smile began to appear on his face and his eyes wandered over her frightened face with its parted and quivering lips and flared nostrils. They moved on to her hair, loose and flowing about her like a red-gold veil, and finally she saw them narrow and darken as he looked down at her breasts as they heaved uncontrollably beneath him.

"Well, well," he drawled, "I must say I haven't had such a pleasant surprise in years. To awaken and find Aphrodite had slipped into one's bed during the night, and so suitably dressed," he paused, one hand moving down over her naked body insultingly, "or should I say, so suitably undressed? It is indeed unexpected. But that she should not have awakened me now that was unpardonable of her."

"Please, please listen to me," Elysia begged him as she felt his lips traveling slowly up her neck, and felt him nibble with his teeth on the soft lobe of her ear, causing shivers to run up her spine.

He was apparently just as surprised as she to find them together in his bed. She had guessed correctly when she thought that the Marquis would not be a party to this, but she must now try to convince him that neither would she.
        
 

"I don't know how I came to be here in your bed. I—I was as surprised and as shocked as you were to find myself here, but please you must be—" she tried to tell him, but his mouth came down on her mouth cruelly, cutting off any explanations she might have made. She felt his hard lips parting her softer ones, his tongue finding hers, shocking her with its touch, and its intimate searching of her mouth.

Elysia was gasping for breath as his lips lifted from hers, having explored and plundered their softness. His lips were moving down her throat in quick, hard kisses, and she could feel his hand searching out the curves of her body, exploring them with each persuasive caress. She struggled helplessly against the hand which still held her bound, his mouth teasing a pink tipped breast until it tautened.

What was he doing to her? She had never felt this way before, had never experienced a man's kisses or a lover's caresses. She was frightened. But a liquid fire was burning through her blood-an odd excitement flaring deep inside her-equal to her fright.

"You've bewitched me," he murmured thickly, in between kisses, "made me dizzy with desire. My head feels as if it would explode."
            
 

His lips moved along her temples to her wild eyes, closing them with his kisses until finally his mouth settled possessively upon her reddened lips.

"My icy, green-eyed witch, so disdainful with her flaming hair—I'll make you come alive with passion, Elysia," Lord Trevegne whispered almost incoherently, her name sounding like a caress on his lips.

His mouth pressed against hers, hurting her as he smothered her protests and moans with his' hungry kisses that became deeper and rougher as the endless minutes passed. Elysia felt him searching, then the feeling of something hard and alien to her feminine body touching her intimately. She felt terrified, and renewed her struggles with a new-found strength, but she knew she was fighting a losing battle. And then she heard the noise.

The door to the room was swung open, and voices seemed to fill Elysia's ears, and she felt the hard weight of Lord Trevegne's muscular body lifted.

"Here we are, Terry," a familiar voice said, and then abruptly stopped. "I say, I'm awfully sorry! I must have mistaken this for my room."

Sir Jason's voice sounded shocked and apologetic. Lord Trevegne, who had rolled off Elysia at the first sound of voices, was now sitting up, staring with a deadly look on his face, at the two confused-looking gentlemen standing nervously in the doorway .

. "If you will excuse us, Trevegne . . . " Sir Jason paused delicately, his eyes wandering over Elysia's disarrayed hair and bare shoulders as she huddled under the sheet, " . . . and, Miss Demarice, please accept our deepest apologies."

The other gentleman's face was suffused with a bright red color as he nervously looked at Lord Trevegne, and the murderous expression in those golden eyes, and then, unable to control himself, at the delectable-looking creature with the wild, red hair and huge, green eyes lying next to the Marquis on the bed.

"Uh, yes, yes, please accept my, uh, apologies," he mumbled, making a quick retreat from those two pairs of disturbing eyes; and the blackening temper of the Marquis—a man he would not care to anger.

Sir Jason followed a little more slowly, looking over his shoulder as he closed the door, a wide triumphant grin tinged with undeniable malice upon his face, which neither Lord Trevegne, nor Elysia, could possibly have missed.

Lord Trevegne put his face into his hands and gave himself a shake as if trying to clear his mind of cloudiness. Then he turned his head and gave Elysia a devilish look, his eyes penetrating and steady, still darkened-but now with anger, not passion. "I am afraid that I was in no mood to listen to your explanations earlier, but now I want the truth, and no fabrications," he added menacingly, "for I believe we have just been witness to quite a performance by Sir Beckingham, and if that entrance was by accident, then I'll sell all my horses to the first country bumpkin I meet for a damned shilling!”

"You, M'Lord, have the nerve, after trying to rape me, to sit there and swear in a rage at me, demanding that I should be the one to give the explanation, when it should be me demanding one from you!” Elysia began in indignation, having at last found her tongue, only to be interrupted by his snarled oath.

"Hell and damnation, you don't really want me to stand and bow, and present myself most gentlemanly, begging your pardon?" he demanded making a threatening movement to leave the bed. "We've gone a little beyond Court manners, I believe."

Elysia gasped. "Of course not!” she conceded quickly, not unaware of his nakedness.

"Now, how did you come to be in my bed, my dear?" he drawled casually, his golden eyes alert as she answered.

"I really don't know. After I left your company, and Sir Jason's, I went directly to my room which is the last one at the end of the corridor: Why, I don't even know. where this one is!” Elysia looked wide-eyed at the Marquis' thoughtful stare.

"It is at the opposite end of the hall from yours, opposite the staircase. I happened to see Sir. Jason enter his room at the end of the hall last night—probably the room across from yours—that is why I doubt very seriously whether he could have mistakenly entered my room thinking it his," Lord Trevegne answered, his eyes narrowing. "Proceed. You went to your room and . . ."

"I was tired from the day's journey, and I was preparing for bed when the innkeeper brought me a hot drink, rum I believe, because I remember feeling drowsy afterwards because of its potency. It had been sent up by Sir Jason, and that is all that I remember before I fell asleep. You must believe me, M'Lord. That is the truth, I swear to you," Elysia added as she noticed the fierce look that had settled on his face.

"So Sir Jason ordered you up a hot rum toddy," he speculated softly. "As it so happens, he also insisted that I join him in one before retiring. I would hazard to guess, my dear Miss Demarice, that we were drugged insensible last night by those infamous rum toddies and while senseless—Sir Jason was up to mischief."

"But if what you say is true, then what was the purpose? Sir Jason has no reason to feel ill will towards me," Elysia asked in puzzlement

"Ah, but he feels that he has a legitimate grievance against me, I daresay, and you, my dear young woman, unsuspectingly became his pawn of revenge against me."

"I am afraid that I still fail to see how this can be revenge against you? It has been an insult, and an indignity to me—but revenge on you . . . ?"

"Yes, revenge. Sir Jason hoped to entrap me in a position that I would find most difficult to extricate myself from—that of being found compromising all innocent young lady of quality. One does not seduce, and then desert the daughter of one's peers—if one is a gentleman," he looked at her mockingly, "and if the young lady in question has vengeful relatives, who will no doubt, hear about this escapade. It will, of course, be the talk of all London by tomorrow evening how Trevegne and a lovely woman were found locked in an embrace and . . . You do get the idea? I need not elaborate further?"