Lady Allerton's Wager (9 page)

‘E
xcuse me, my lady.’ Carrick, Beth’s butler, had come into the red drawing room and was looking rather dubious. ‘The Earl of Trevithick is here and is asking—rather strongly, my lady—that you should receive him.’ The butler’s frown deepened. ‘There is another gentleman with him, a Mr Justin Trevithick. I was somewhat concerned, my lady, that the Earl was inebriated, for he was most forceful in his demands for entry.’

Beth put her book down and looked at Charlotte in some consternation. The clock stood at ten minutes to two, which seemed somewhat early for a gentleman to be in his cups. It also seemed somewhat out of character.

‘I cannot believe that the Earl is foxed, Carrick,’ she said forthrightly, gaining a squeak of disapproval from Charlotte at her unladylike language, ‘so perhaps I should see him to ascertain the reason for his behaviour.’ She turned to her cousin. ‘Shall I receive Lord Trevithick in the green study, Charlotte, so that you need not be disturbed? I do not wish you to have to receive two strangers so unexpectedly.’

Charlotte stood up, smoothing her dress with nervous fingers. ‘Thank you, Beth, but there is no difficulty. If the Earl is inebriated I would rather be with you to prevent an unfortunate scene—’

The words had scarcely left her lips when the door was flung open with a crash as Marcus stalked into the room, closely followed by Justin, who was looking slightly less than his usual imperturbable self.

‘My apologies, ma’am,’ Marcus drawled, sketching a slight bow in Charlotte’s direction. ‘I have no wish to discompose you, but I have an urgent need to speak with Lady Allerton and I was afraid that I would have taken root to the spot by the time your butler saw fit to return!’ He turned to Beth and she recoiled slightly from the expression on his face. There was a furious light in his eyes and a very grim set to his jaw. The change from the attentive suitor of two nights before to this hard and angry man was almost impossible to believe.

As she stared at him in bemusement, Marcus said silkily, ‘I am glad to find you at home, Lady Allerton, and not halfway to Devon to claim your ill-gotten gains! Will you grant me a private interview or must I rehearse my quarrel with you in front of your cousin and a host of servants? I have no difficulty in doing so, you understand, but Mrs Cavendish might find it somewhat distasteful…’

Beth drew herself up. The reference to her ill-gotten gains puzzled her, for had Marcus not sent her the deeds of Fairhaven only that morning, and with a perfectly amicable note into the bargain? She wondered briefly if Carrick had been correct and Marcus was drunk, but it took only one glance to see that he
was stone cold sober. Sober but very angry. It was frightening.

‘I have no notion to what you refer, my lord,’ she said a little shakily, ‘nor have I any wish to hear your impertinent accusations! I think you must be either drunk or mad to speak like this, and I suggest that you return when your temper has cooled!’

Justin caught Marcus’s arm. ‘Lady Allerton is in the right of it, old chap! Cool reason is better than hot heads! Let us retire for now—’

Marcus ignored him. He crossed the room to Beth and stopped an unnerving foot away from her. She could see the anger and dislike clear in his face.

‘Well, ma’am?’ he challenged softly. ‘What is it to be? A private discussion or a public quarrel? The choice is entirely yours!’

Beth heard Charlotte draw a protesting breath and saw Justin Trevithick move protectively to her cousin’s side.

‘Beg pardon, ma’am,’ she heard him say in an undertone. ‘Dreadful intrusion, I know, but there is no reasoning with him when he is like this. The Trevithick temper, you know. The old Earl was renowned for it…’

Beth’s gaze flickered to Charlotte and back to the compelling anger in Marcus Trevithick’s face. She drew breath to give Marcus a blistering set-down, but Charlotte spoke first.

‘Beth dear, it does seem that the Earl has some pressing matter to discuss with you. Perhaps you could take him into the study, whilst Mr Trevithick stays here with me? Carrick, would you bring tea?’

The prosaic suggestion seemed to restore some sense of normality. The tight rage lessened slightly in
Marcus’s face and he walked over to the door and held it open for Beth with studious courtesy. Carrick moved away with his customary composed tread to fetch refreshments. Beth saw Justin take Charlotte’s hand and start to introduce himself formally, then the door closed behind them with a snap and she was alone in the hall with Marcus.

‘If you would step this way, my lord,’ she said, a little faintly, gesturing towards her book room, ‘I am sure that we can resolve this problem, whatever it may be…’

The study faced south and had a warm fire burning. Earlier that morning Beth had taken the deeds to Fairhaven and placed them on the desk, intending to read them thoroughly in the evening. She had wanted to see Marcus first and talk to him about his gift. And now it seemed that she had the opportunity, but not exactly as she would have wished it…

She saw Marcus’s gaze go to the pile of papers and saw a frown crease his forehead as though he wanted to snatch the deeds up and simply walk off with them. For a moment her mind was filled with the ludicrous picture of them tugging on opposite ends of the papers until they tore across and fluttered to the ground. And for what? She was still utterly confused about the nature of his quarrel with her.

Marcus drove his hands into his jacket pockets. ‘Lady Allerton, I have come to ask for the return of the deeds to Fairhaven Island,’ he said, in tones of measured dislike. ‘It seems that you have obtained them under false pretences and so our agreement, such as it was, is null and void. The wager, the gift…’ his dark gaze dwelled on her face for a moment in a look that made Beth feel curiously vulnerable ‘…ev
erything. I do not expect to see you again or have any further debate about the ownership of the island.’

Beth sat down weakly in the nearest chair. She raised her eyes to his face. ‘I do not understand you, my lord. You made me a free gift of the island only this morning—’

Marcus spoke through his teeth. ‘It was a mistake. I am rescinding it.’

The indignant colour sprung into Beth’s face. ‘But you cannot do that! There is no reason—Why, how dishonourable can you be? First to renege on the wager and then to cancel your gift—’

Marcus came across and bent over her chair. His furious dark eyes were only inches from hers. ‘If we are talking of honour, I would like to know how a woman who lies and cheats could possibly know anything of such a quality!’ He turned away from her, his movements so full of repressed rage that Beth quailed. ‘I have heard about your plans to exploit Fairhaven for financial gain! So much for your touching protestations that you were wishing to regain your lost patrimony! And to think that I believed you—’ He stopped and ran a hand through his disordered dark hair. ‘Well, I was richly taken in, but not any more!’

Beth got to her feet. Her eyes were wide and puzzled. ‘Truly, my lord, I do not understand—’

Marcus spun round and caught her wrist. ‘Not understand? Do you deny that your late husband tried to buy Fairhaven because he wanted to mine gold there? Do you deny that you went to my grandfather and told him that
you
wished to buy the island for the same reason? Do you deny that your cousin is even
now looking for investors for such a project, now that you have tricked me out of Fairhaven—?’

‘Yes, I do deny it!’ Beth wrenched her wrist out of his grasp. ‘I knew nothing of Frank’s business concerns, nor do I know anything of Kit’s! I do not wish to! I want Fairhaven for all those reasons I told you, my lord, and as for telling your grandfather otherwise—’ she swallowed a sob ‘—I never said anything of the sort!’

Her gaze searched Marcus’s face and saw the unyielding disbelief there. She could tell that she was wasting her breath. ‘It seems, however, that you have no wish to trust me,’ she finished quietly.

Marcus moved over to the writing table. ‘I will take these with me—’

Beth whisked across the room before he could reach for the deeds to Fairhaven, and inserted herself between Marcus and the desk, blocking his way. She put her hands behind her and leant back against the desk’s smooth surface to steady herself. Marcus looked at her for a moment, then raised an incredulous eyebrow.

‘So determined to keep your island, my dear? I have not forgotten exactly what it was you offered me when we made our wager! It seems you will do anything to achieve your ambition!’ His gaze swept over her with contemptuous familiarity, from the black curls piled up on her head to the kid slippers peeping from beneath the hem of her pale blue muslin gown and Beth felt as though he was stripping her naked. He moved forward until she was completely trapped with the writing table behind her and Marcus in front of her. Beth drew back as far as she could, but she felt the sharp edge of the desk digging un
comfortably into the back of her legs. A second later she forgot all about the discomfort as Marcus moved in closer, so close that Beth could feel his thigh pressing against hers through the thin muslin gown. She drew an outraged breath.

‘My lord, kindly let me go!’

Marcus smiled with wicked amusement. All his anger appeared to have gone now, replaced by a devilish enjoyment that Beth suddenly found even more frightening. She tried to lean away from him, but the desk behind her blocked her path completely, and when she attempted to slide sideways Marcus simply leant both arms on the desk on either side of her, effectively pinning her down. As Beth tried to arch away from him she saw his gaze drop to the neckline of her dress and linger there on the soft swell of her breasts.

‘My lord!’ Beth’s voice came out as a desperate squeak. ‘This is not fair!’

Marcus leant closer. She could feel his breath soft on her heated skin. He raised a hand and traced one lazy finger down her cheek, continuing down the line of her neck to her collarbone. His eyes were dark with desire.

‘Would you have honoured the bet if you had lost, sweetheart? Would you?’

‘No!’ Beth gasped. She felt his fingers pause at the hollow in her throat, felt him stroke the pulse there.

‘Your skin is all flushed.’ Marcus’s voice had sunk to a husky whisper now. ‘You are as hot as you were the other night. I do not believe you, Lady Allerton. I think you are as shameless as you pretended to be at the Cyprians’ Ball…’

Beth’s gasp of fury was lost as his mouth came
down on hers. This time his kiss was hard and hungry, as demanding as the one at the ball had been gentle. He forced her lips apart and she felt his tongue invade her mouth and her senses spun under the onslaught. She brought her hands round to grip Marcus’s arms, intending to push him away, but he leant his weight against her so that the table caught her behind the thighs and she was borne helplessly back, to lie amongst the scattered papers and rolling inkpot. She felt her dress gape and her hair come loose from its pins and fan out across the wooden surface, and she could neither struggle nor scream, for Marcus’s weight was on top of her, holding her still, and his mouth still plundered the softness of hers.

It was only when his lips left hers, to follow the line his fingers had traced earlier and brush against the sensitive softness of her throat, that Beth realised she had no will to struggle anyway. The touch of his hands and lips was exquisite pleasure and she wanted more. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his mouth back up to hers so that she could once again touch and taste him.

She had no idea how long they lay locked together before Marcus moved with single-minded concentration to strip the dress from her shoulders. Beth felt the little puffy sleeves slide down her arms to the elbow and a moment later Marcus had slid one warm hand inside the gap in her bodice and cupped her breast. Her involuntary moan was lost against his lips as he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth. His fingers found her hardening nipple and he pulled the bodice of her dress down before his mouth left hers to fasten over the pink tip he had exposed. Beth squirmed in delight and desperation as he bit down
on her sensitised skin. There was an exquisite pain in the pit of her stomach and she was lost in the sensations of pleasure that he was creating. The remaining papers went flying from the desk as she writhed with excitement.

There was a sudden noise out in the hall and Marcus eased away from her with a purely involuntary movement. It was enough to bring Beth down to earth. Suddenly she was horribly aware of something digging into her back, of the papers scattered beneath her hands, the dress that had almost slipped to her waist. She wriggled again but this time in a desperate attempt to stand up, and Marcus stepped back and put out a hand to help her to her feet. Beth flinched away.

‘Don’t touch me!’ All her horror at what she had done was in her voice. She could not believe it—could not believe her own behaviour and could not forgive him his. She saw Marcus recoil and knew that finally, she had the upper hand. She gestured towards the door. ‘Lord Trevithick. Please leave. Now.’

She tidied herself with trembling fingers and watched as Marcus smoothed his hair and straightened his clothes. His eyes met hers and she saw that they were as dazed and dark with passion as she knew her own must be. Suddenly she wanted to throw herself into his arms, to make all well again between them, but she drew herself up haughtily and simply waited for him to go.

‘Beth—’ Marcus put out a hand to her, but Beth turned her shoulder and stared blindly out of the window. ‘Beth, I am truly sorry—’

‘No!’ Beth’s eyes filled with tears. She did not know whether he meant that he was sorry for his actions or for his earlier suspicions but whatever the
case, she
did
know that she would cry in another instant. ‘I do not want to hear it!’

She heard Marcus open the study door and she turned round quickly. Before he went there was something she had to say to him, something that had to be absolutely clear.

‘Lord Trevithick.’ Her voice shook. She could not help it. She took a deep breath and ploughed on. ‘Lord Trevithick, I intend to travel down to Devon immediately. Fairhaven Island is mine and I am going to claim it.’