Seducing the Beast (10 page)

“Make a sound and you’ll know my full wrath, Lady Shelton,” he hissed. “So you planned a hasty escape, eh?” Finding the pearls in her hand, he wrenched them from her. “The Swafford pearls! This is what became of them? It wasn’t Matthew.” He threw the necklace and it hit the wall, the thread snapping like a whip, pearls scattering across the floorboards. “Pearls before swine indeed.”

Her curses muffled by the coverlet, she writhed beneath him until he rolled aside and she breathed again. Crawling from the bed, she started for the door, and barely made three steps before he caught up with her, his great claw closing hard around her wrist. “Now you’ve put me in a very foul mood by forcing me to scale that wall and graze my damned knuckles.”

“You’re mistaken--”

“If you think for one moment you’ll ever marry Gabriel Mallory, you’re the mistaken one!”

The earl must have sent him to fetch Eustacia and for some reason he assumed… “But I’m not her,” she exclaimed. “She’s gone.”

“Cease your noise! I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

Head reeling, she stumbled back to the bed and fell upon it.

“Look…my good man…” she tried to sound infinitely sane and sober, “if you take me to your master, I can explain--”

“My master?”

“Take me to him. I’m not afraid. I have a strong constitution and a high tolerance for pain. I’ve much to discuss with him.” This could be her last chance, she realized. At last she would meet the earl and plead Nathaniel’s case. If he thought she was Eustacia and he wanted her out of his brother’s life, she could negotiate, and need not resort to “feminine wiles”.

He hunkered down before her. A familiar scent filled her with joy and she thought of her father. It was one of the sweetest memories from youth, running to greet him on his return, stuffing her face into his shirt for greedy breaths. He smelled of the sea and adventure.

A mist descended. “I’m mind-numbingly tired now. Excuse me. I would rather discuss this in the morn.” She yawned as the room began to spin. “Come back tomorrow, there’s a good fellow.” And like a grounded rowboat, she keeled over on her side.

Suddenly she felt his fingers tickling her, or so she thought, until she realized they worked with haste to remove her gown. Supposing she ought to protest, she rolled over for that very purpose, only to be distracted again by his scent. She reached for his sleeve and pulled it closer to her face. “You smell like the sea.”

“Do I?”

“My father is away at sea.”

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it. Slightly more dignified than debtors prison.”

He resumed the rapid disrobing of her limp body, muttering under his breath about faithless lying trollops and, of all things, pomegranates. Once she was down to her shift and corset, she heard him tossing clothes from the bed, until he found whatever he sought. Then, much to her indignation, she was being dressed again, poked and prodded like a child’s doll. He made her stand up and step into the skirt. Of course, it was too long for her.

“I prefer the other gown,” she complained sleepily.

“This garment will serve, Lady Shelton. No need to tempt any men where we’re going.”

“Where are we going?”

“Far away from here and far away from Gabriel Mallory.”

“Good!” She tried to clap her hands and missed. “I was weary of this place, but not ready to go home yet.”

“You’re drunk,” he exclaimed, as if only just aware of it.

“Why else would I let you manhandle me in this fashion?”

“I assumed you were accustomed to it.”

“Indeed no. I’ve never been dressed and undressed like this before. You make an interesting ladies maid.” And she broke into chuckles, melting back to the bed. He stood over her, hands on hips. “I should hire you,” she said, hugging her arms. “I need a new maid.”

“You couldn’t afford me.” He hauled her upright again.

“Why? Are you very expensive?”

“Oh yesss.”

“Your master is indecently rich, so I hear.”

“Arms out,” he commanded. She complied without hesitation, allowing him to pull the sleeves and bodice over her shift, rather enjoying the firm, masterful touch of his hands. Like the skirt, the sleeves were too long and if he expected that bodice to contain all of Maddie Carver, he would be disappointed. Spinning her around, he made a valiant effort with the laces, but the result was the same as squeezing an open and full sack of grain around the middle. Something was going to spill out. Apparently unfamiliar with this principle, he was utterly nonplussed by the effect. Glaring at her as if she deliberately encouraged her misbehaving bosom, he gave up on the laces, turning his attention to the droopy sleeves instead.

“I suppose you’re blindly faithful to your master and can’t be tempted to work for another.” She sighed. “You must be exceedingly loyal, if you go to these great lengths on his behalf.”

He crouched before her again, his hands around her face. “Be still, woman!” She made an effort to obey his order, hands resting meekly in her lap, too amused, weary and pickled to put up any fight. If he knew the truth, that she was an inconsequential nobody, he would leave her there to chase after Gabriel and her cousin. She hiccupped.

“And stop making noise,” he added. “You begin to give me a headache.”

“I’ve one too, but ’tis the wine, I ’spect.”

* * * *

Although tonight she was delightfully compliant, he couldn’t trust a curl on her head. Any moment now his brother would arrive at the house. Evidently she’d been arranging her traveling things when he got there. Time, therefore, was of the essence.

As if she read his mind again, a habit of hers it seemed, she laid her palms to his shoulders and urged, “Make haste. We’ve not a moment to lose, man. Come now. You’ve a job to do and I won’t stop you.” Apparently needing his solid frame to keep her upright, she slid her arms around his neck.

“Do not hang on me madam. I’ll not be molested by you.”

“Make haste. Take me. Wherever you must.”

This was wrong. She was too keen to get away before his brother came. On the other hand--he looked at her drowsily fluttering lashes, pink cheeks and yawning lips--she was clearly soused as a herring. He shouldn’t take advantage of it. He undertook these extreme measures solely for the Swafford family line. Couldn’t have this woman’s tainted blood infecting the noble strain, ruining his brother into the bargain. She over-flowed with tempestuous passion and teasing, slippery-tongued wit, evidently knew no limits with things she enjoyed.

In all likelihood, she was the same in bed. That idea found a way in before he could shut it out. Just like her.

“You’re altogether too keen, woman,” he grumbled, hot and sweating. It was as though he wrestled a large, overly-friendly wolfhound.

“Would you prefer me to fight and make your job harder?”

He unwound her arms from his neck and held one of her hands within his fist. “You could not fight me. See, your hand is too small.”

“Small is not weak. I’ve felled many a brazen fool.”

“I doubt not your abilities.” For a moment more he crouched there, keeping her warm hand. If he meant to separate her from his brother, he must take her away now, before it was too late. It would be unthinkable for his brother to marry this woman. “As if I couldn’t handle the likes of you. What you need is a little stern discipline.” Mind made up, he shifted forward, threw her over his shoulder and lifted her easily from the bed. He carried her down the stairs, across the dark hall and out of the house. No one came to her aid.

He tossed her over his horse, leapt up into the saddle and slapped her hard across the rump. “Sit up, wench. The fresh air will do wonders for your aching head.”

As they rode out into the night, not a single shout was raised in alarm, hers nor any other.

Sins of the Flesh

“Serves you right, Lady Shelton,” he lectured. “This is what happens when you have no restraint.”

She groaned miserably, head limp, tongue thick. The greasy odor tied her stomach in a knot, while her kidnapper munched blithely away at the roast pheasant, licking his fingers now, deliberately noisy. Maddie shut her eyes tight.

“No more sleeping,” he warned. “We’ve a long way to go yet. Here,” he thrust the platter of meat under her chin. “Eat! Keep your strength up.”

Sober now, she had tried, several times, to convince him he had kidnapped the wrong woman, but having made up his mind she was the Scarlet Widow, he listened to no argument. Since he was a stubborn fellow with a hot spur temper, it was doubtful he would look kindly on her once he discovered the truth. Once again, she thought unhappily, Maddie Carver would be blamed.

This dreary path brought her thoughts back to Grace. This morning her sister must have woken to find herself abandoned in Eustacia’s house, but at least their father would soon arrive in London. And since Grace insisted she didn’t need her sister’s “interference”, let her manage by herself for a change.

Pushing the platter away, she dropped her head to one arm. Her skull ached. The skin around it wrapped too tightly. Every tiny sound reverberated within, echoing like a blacksmith’s hammer.

“Sit up,” he exclaimed irritably. “If you could bring yourself to obey me, it will make the journey so much more enjoyable--for both of us. Smile at me,
my lady
, as you did last night. Or is it too much of a trial now you’re sober?”

Scornful, she eyed him from beneath a tumble of spilled curls. “Is this how the earl treats women? Can he not get them any other way, than by sending his slave to kidnap them?” Having grown up listening to her father’s disdain for noblemen, and holding his regard and his opinions on any matter far above anyone else’s, her ideas about men like the Earl were long since ingrained. “As your master is so important,” she continued sarcastically, “I suppose he converses directly with God. No wonder he knows what’s best for his poor brother Gabriel.”

Slowly his jaw moved as he chewed the meat in his mouth, that last great lump, torn off with his ruthless, wolfish teeth. Watching his lips move, she gauged how long it would be before he shouted at her again to be silent. As nothing came out, she added, “I hope the earl’s involvement in
my
affairs won’t keep him from his own business. He must have a great deal of responsibility and I shouldn’t like to be blamed for any misfortune he suffers in his own affairs, simply because he takes such prodigious care of mine.”

He picked at his teeth with a bone.

“Perhaps the earl has no affairs of his own and that’s why he concerns himself with this one. Could it be…” She leaned across the decimated bird carcass to whisper archly, “jealousy?”

“The earl involves himself,
madam
, in this affair because he cares for his brother’s welfare. Not yours.” He sneered. “When we reach our destination, you’ll write to Gabriel, informing him you’ve found another lover.”

“I thought you were taking me to see the earl,” she protested. “I have matters to discuss with him.”

“Ah yes, the pirate Downing and his supposed innocence.” His expression was pained, skeptical. “As if you would know innocence should it give you a damned good rogering.” When this produced a gasp of indignation, he added sternly, “Perhaps the Earl might listen to your petition, once you write to Gabriel and put an end to this ill-advised affair. There, one favor for another.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Until you agree to these terms, you must tolerate my company.” Apparently that was the only threat he kept up his sleeve; he thought it would be enough. “You’ll rapidly tire of me,” he assured her proudly, the prospect of his company meant to induce timid quakes of fear. “I can be most uncouth and inhospitable.”

“Indeed? I might never have guessed.”

“Write that letter and you may return to your frivolous little life in London. And the earl might hear your case in defense of Nathaniel Downing. Of course, I make no promises. He might not.”

“This is a splendid plan,” she said. “Nevertheless, you overlook one thing. What if Gabriel doesn’t believe the letter? He loves her…me, I mean.”

“Nonsense. There’s no such thing as love.” His meal devoured, he raised his hand for the tavern-keeper’s bill.

He was so sure of himself, as if no one ever proved him wrong. Hey ho! He’d never met Maddie the Merciless before had he?

Catching her eye twice in quick succession, and finding she did not look away as he evidently thought she should, he gruffly demanded. “What?”

“You’re most alluring when so determined and cross,” she replied.

He shot her a sideways glance. “Don’t try to flatter me, madam. I’m wise to your… jiggery pokery.”

It was one of her father’s sayings and it made her laugh.

He frowned, hands paused in the motion of counting out coin for the bill. “You’re young for a woman thrice widowed. How old are you?”

She raised her chin. “That’s a very impertinent question to ask a lady.”

“I don’t ask a lady. I ask you.”

“In that case, I’m one-hundred-and-eight.”

He considered her thoughtfully. “You look younger.”

“A consequence of witchcraft.”

Shaking his head, he returned his attention to the coins in his hand.

* * * *

As they rode on, she amused herself by teasing him on the subject of his “master.”

“Will you give the earl a full account of how we met, when you mistook me for a woman bereft of virtue and manhandled me?” She leaned back into the broad curve of his shoulder. “Would he approve of your behavior?”

“Madam, I knew exactly who you were,” he lied briskly. “You never fooled me.”

She laughed. She did a great deal of that and he was nonplussed by it. What could she possibly find so amusing in her predicament? Now recovered from her overindulgence of the previous evening, her mood improved considerably, and although she ought to be angry, demanding he take her back to London, she seemed content to let him drag her across the countryside.

“If I truly manhandled you,” he grumbled, blowing one of her curls from his mouth, “you’d know it.”