My Liege of Dark Haven (25 page)

A gull soared over the ferryboat churning across the choppy waves toward Pier Thirty-Nine. Her father had loved to visit the wharf, but then the bustling became more than he could tolerate. “If he got excited at all, he’d burst into a rage. For so long, we didn’t understand why. We thought we’d made him mad, and Mom would cry.”

“Just you and your mother?”

“Um-hmm.” The backyard had a wide stone patio with a pool and hot tub. Grassy stretches extended on each side like wings. Farther out, the land rolled downhill. “Xavier, it’s not imp—”

“What happened after he was diagnosed? Did it get better?”

“Of c-course.” At last they’d known
why
. And his berserk screaming fits had been far better than the blankness that eventually consumed his personality. Before the cancer, her father had been an even-tempered, brilliant archeologist. Near the end, in his few moments of lucidity, he couldn’t bear what he’d become. “
My death will be a blessing, baby. A gift
.” He’d patted her hand. And then he’d cried.

A flicker drew her attention to where a hummingbird visited a bright globe hanging from a tree branch. In the next tree, two sparrows perched on a stained-glass feeder. Life, big and small, went on. And Mr. Oh-So-Stern My Liege fed the birds?

“Come here.” That note again, the one that said he expected her to obey.

She turned.

His hand was out. Open. Waiting. And very warm when his fingers folded around hers. “How did you and your mother cope?”

Looking down at him, she made a noise that should have been a laugh but didn’t sound like anything funny. “Very carefully. For a long time, as long as he didn’t get upset, he did well. He never hurt us, just yelled. Called us names.” She shrugged.

“So you did everything you could to keep him calm, didn’t you?”

The understanding in his expression made her eyes burn. “Where’s your ibuprofen?”

“This is why you freeze up when you think someone will yell.” He held her trapped for another minute. “But you risked my temper because you were worried about me.” A corner of his mouth edged up; his eyes filled with tenderness. “Your courage wins the battle, little fluff. I have a bottle of ibuprofen upstairs in the master bathroom.”

He hadn’t yelled, had actually complimented her for being rude. She ran up the stairs, feeling as if she’d been staggering and found her balance. Her throat was tight.

He’d called her his favorite name again.

Chapter Sixteen

That evening in the guest bath, Xavier scratched his cheek, grimacing at the day-old beard growth. At least Abby hadn’t offered to shave him.

Determined little submissive. If he hadn’t had a downstairs bedroom, she’d have insisted on helping him up the stairs—and been flattened, trying to save him.

Maybe he should put in an elevator. A man couldn’t predict accidents.

With frustrating slowness, he cleaned up, then used his foot and good arm to wheel himself into the bedroom. Lowering his ankle made it swell into a throbbing balloon.

He transferred to the bed, grateful that his shoulder had died down to a dull ache. With a grunt of pain, he took off the sling and his shirt.

“Whoa.” Holding a serving tray, Abby stood in the doorway and stared at him. “You look as if someone beat on you with a club.”

He glanced down. Scrapes everywhere. A jagged slice from something sharp ran across his upper pectoral. Bruises made black shadows on his dark skin. “Better me than you. With your delicate skin, you’d look like a patchwork quilt.”

Her throaty laugh was a treat. After calling her tenants to babysit the puppies another night, she’d been a solemn owl during supper.

“Here’s your ibuprofen.” She set the tray down and handed him a couple of pills and a glass of water. As he sipped, she cleaned his scrapes and very, very gently dabbed antibiotic ointment on each.

“I’m not going to break.”

“I don’t want you to hurt.” Her voice was soft with a resolve that shook him. “Stand up, and I’ll get your pants off.”

He’d often commanded slaves to unclothe him, but when he actually needed the service, the pleasure turned sour. Jaw clenched against a growl, he rose, balanced on one foot, and pushed his jeans down. After he sat, she knelt in front of him to pull them off.

Another change. Usually if he had a woman on her knees in front of him, he had something better for her to do.

“Lie back,” she ordered. Her serious tone lightened his mood. As he complied she primly covered him with a sheet before arranging a pillow under his leg.

“Do you enjoy having me under your command?” he asked.

She laughed.

“Do you?”

Her hand came to rest on his lower leg like a bird ready to fly at the least movement. “I…” Her delightful mind engaged and hummed.

“Go on.”

“Not really. I just like seeing you comfortable.”

“Knowing you fixed it all?” When she absently stroked circles over his skin, he realized he wasn’t completely overwhelmed by pain.

“Sounds rather pompous, doesn’t it?”

No, it sounded like the glow a service submissive got from helping others. When he’d seen her contentment in feeding the pups, he should have recognized the trait. He frowned. Her father’s behavior must have traumatized a child who wanted only to please. “You like helping.”

“Of course. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Not…quite. Think about after an orgasm. You’re closer to your partner; everything in the world feels right.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “And?”

“Some submissives feel that way when they meet the needs of others.” He reached down to take her hand. “Is that how you feel now?”

“Um. I suppose. I never noticed before, but yes.”

A submissive’s satisfaction was increased when serving her Master. Only he wasn’t, shouldn’t be. Didn’t want to be.
Don’t lie to yourself, Leduc.

If he let her go now, she’d disappear from his life. He’d thought that would be the best choice for both of them. Now he was beginning to wonder. “Your relationship with Nathan is over, correct?”

“Oh, definitely.” Perhaps realizing what his question implied, she tried to pull her hand away.

“Little fluff, you stubbornly inserted yourself into my life, even when I was angry. What happens now that I’m not angry?”

“I…don’t know.” Eyes the gray of the city fog met his. “I don’t want another relationship. Not for a long, long time.”

He understood. Time must pass before the feeling of being betrayed would lessen. For both of them. And yet… “During the chess game, we’d reached an agreement.”

“That was before.”

Before the disaster. She wanted to be with him. But she didn’t know him well, and she’d been hurt. How brave was the little professor?

“Besides, in a day or so you won’t need me,” she said.

He studied her. “You believe I want you here only because I’m injured?” Nathan had really damaged her self-confidence.

“Well…yes.” Her gaze was straight and level.

Again he was pleased he hadn’t misread her honesty; although in order to keep the peace, she buried matters she should share. They’d work on the problem.

“Lie down here.” He patted his chest. Her expression turned wary as she registered his shift from friendly to dominant. But she wanted this, even if she didn’t recognize it.

“It’ll hurt your ankle.”

His frown stopped further protests. His leg was angled to one side with his ankle safely cushioned on a pillow. He took her hand and pulled her down on top of him. As she gave in and snuggled against him, her legs between his, he wrapped his good arm around her.

Yes, he wanted her to stay. “Let’s discuss this.” He rubbed his chin on the top of her silky hair. She was as cuddly as her puppies. “Can you share why you think I don’t want more from you than servitude?”

“Aren’t discussions supposed to be two-sided?”

“Yes, they are.” He grinned. Intelligent women were amazingly sexy. He laid his palm on the curve between her shoulder and neck, resting his thumb on her carotid artery. A little fast. “I’ll let you start so I can answer your concerns.”

Her huff held exasperation and a touch of anxiety. She remained silent for a minute. “First, you don’t like me much after finding out about the research. Second, you were angry about Nathan. You thought I’d lied to you. Third, I hear the women you bring here are impeccably trained slaves. Fourth, I’m not glamorous or gorgeous enough for you. Fifth, we’re not alike at all. I’m middle-class. And a nerd.”

She was delightful. He kept his chin on her head, not wanting her feelings hurt if she saw him smile. “Nice and orderly. First, I understand why you infiltrated my club—your fear of being laid off and to find out more about BDSM.” For someone who didn’t deserve her. “Since the end is so close, I’m inclined to let you continue…under certain conditions.”

She jerked in surprise. “Really?”

“
If
I read and approve of the paper. And if you make amends to the club members. I’d have to announce what you were doing, so those who feel uncomfortable can stay away.”

“But you’d do that?”

“Ah…” Yes, he should warn her. “Abby, you’ve seen submissives punished. How much does this matter to you?”

Her soft body tensed. He heard her swallow. “What would I have to do?”

“I won’t share that with you until the time comes.”

Another swallow.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I need to finish my research—and to apologize to people.”

“Excellent. I’ll have something to look forward to.”

Her under-the-breath, “Oh, good,” made him chuckle.

“Second, I was angry about Nathan. But he lied. You didn’t. At this point I’m simply sorry that he hurt you.”

She pulled in a shuddering breath and buried her head in his shoulder. Her job at risk, her lover cheating on her. Poor professor. His desire to make her world right surprised him, not in the existence, but in the intensity.

“Third, I do invite trained slaves here, both for my enjoyment and because I need to know them to find them the best Master.”

Her head lifted. “You help slaves without Masters because of Catherine, don’t you? Because she was so lost.”

The ache of grief had softened, not died. “Yes. That’s why.”

“I thought the slaves served
you
, not another Master.”

“When they’re here, they do. In any way I ask.”

“Oh.” She’d stiffened in his arms.

“But I prefer a Dominant/submissive relationship to Master/slave, Abby.”

She didn’t relax. A little insecurity in a submissive wasn’t a bad thing, but her doubts shouldn’t be whether the Dominant cared. Time to direct that uneasiness into a different channel. “Sit up and straddle me. Then unbutton your shirt.”

Her eyes widened.

No, I’m not an easy man
. He waited.

Biting her lip, she pushed up and rested her weight on his hips. Button by button she opened her flannel shirt. Such creamy skin.

“Pretty bra, but it’s in my way. Open it.”

Her breathing increased as she undid the front latch.

“Very good.” With his left hand, he pushed her arms to the sides and pulled open her shirt. Her nipples had contracted into pale pink buds. “You have beautiful breasts, little fluff. I enjoy looking at them.”

He also enjoyed the tiny shiver that ran through her. Rather than touching her as expected, he continued. “What was four again?”

Her pale brows drew together; she’d forgotten their discussion. “Um. Glamorous.”

“Ah. And gorgeous.”
Women
. At least men usually worried only if their dicks were big enough. Females worried about everything: hips, chest, hair, fingers. He’d heard one woman fret over the shape of her fingernails. “Ninety-nine percent of glamour is from the clothing and makeup.” Although he dated flashy women for social functions—mostly for the effect on other men—he rarely asked them out more than three or four times. But that number was irrelevant; the point was that Abby felt insecure. “Now, I wouldn’t call you gorgeous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“But you are lovely.”

“I’m what?” Surprise chased across her expression.

“We’ll use my definitions,” he said, striving for a properly pompous professorial tone. “Gorgeous indicates a surface beauty. Loveliness is a gestalt of personality and appearance, both required.” He smiled. “One of my earliest lovers was a French woman. Older, with wrinkles. Sagging skin and breasts. Big nose. Not gorgeous. But she had confidence, kindness, and a joyful sexuality that couldn’t be resisted. Wherever she went, men followed as if on a leash. Me included.”

Abby’s gray eyes lit as if the sun had risen behind morning clouds.

“Now there,” he murmured. “When you smile, you have the same appeal.” He stroked his finger down her cheek. “You’re like a luminous moon fairy, and added to that is your sweetness and intelligence. You’re lovely, Abby.”

Her face was confused. Vulnerable.

“Didn’t Nathan ever tell you that?”
Oh, bad, Leduc
. Not the time to bring up former lovers.

Color rolled into her cheeks. “I’ve been called pretty.” A hint of pain crossed her face. “My stepsister is…gorgeous…and she could take a man away from me with a snap of her fingers.”

And obviously had. Life wasn’t always fair. “If that was her typical behavior, I daresay she lost them as quickly.”

She gave a husky chuckle. “I guess she did.”

“You delight me, Abby.” Xavier curled his fingers over her nape and drew her down. He kissed her gently. Her instant response never failed to please him.

When he released her, she pushed back up to stare at him. Her fluffy hair fell over her cheeks.

“Last concern, you think we’re not alike at all.” A kiss. “If you’re a nerd, and I’m the opposite, does that mean you believe I’m stupid?”

She inhaled sharply, spotting the insult. He let her see the disapproval in his eyes.

“No. Of course not. That’s not what I meant.”

“We’re both smart, then?” he asked. She was trapped. Why men needed to hunt the forests, he’d never understood. Not when there was so much better sport at home.

“Yes.”

“Mmmmh.” He touched her chin. “If I told you I came from a redneck working family, would you tell me I wasn’t good enough for you? Because your family has more money?”