Star Crossed Seduction (17 page)

His mother greeted him at breakfast with the news that her astrologer had relented and agreed to help her with her matchmaking, having, apparently, found someone who might be the perfect match for him. He was too distracted to pay much attention to her babbling though he wondered that Her Ladyship should have made such an offer after what had transpired during his visit to the Refuge. Perhaps she hoped marriage would put an end to his wild ways.

But whatever her thinking, he knew, as his mother and Her Ladyship did not, that his impending departure would put an end to all their scheming. So after he’d spent the polite quarter of an hour with his mother that etiquette demanded, he excused himself, bathed and dressed, and set off to visit the major. He would appeal to him for help to ensure that when he must leave her behind, Temperance would be well taken care of.

T
hough it was already noon when Trev rapped on his door, Major Stanley was just getting out of bed.

“My lad,” he boomed out in greeting. “I envy you your robust constitution. Behold in my sorry frame the price to be paid for a life of dissipation. I am but a shadow of a man, and my head pounds like a bloody foundry.”

“Perhaps this will help,” Trev said, pulling out the bottle of brandy he’d brought as a gift.

“Brandy, by gad. And French, too, I warrant. That’s as fine a cure as ever a doctor prescribed. I say. I may live to see another summer yet.”

The major uncorked the brandy, fetched two glasses, and after a sip, pronounced it “capital.” Only then did he remark, “There’s a glow about you today, and it’s no wonder. She’s a stunner, that woman of yours, despite her nimble fingers. No wonder you went haring after her last night. Your air of satisfaction tells me you charmed her back into your nest.”

He flung himself into a chair and held up his glass. “Oh fortunate youth, to have such joys before you. Truth be told, I envy you more than your robust constitution. My advancing decrepitude makes it unlikely I shall ever attract such a splendid example of femininity, no matter what I could pay her.”

“You’re not as far gone as all that,” Trev assured him. “In a dim light, you might still pass for forty if you keep on your helmet to hide your bald spot.”

“Insolent whelp!” His friend slapped him on the back. “I’m only thirty-seven, and my barber tells me I have the hair of a man of thirty.”

“Then there is hope for you yet, though your envy of me is misplaced. My orders have changed. I shall have to leave Temperance behind before the end of the week and return to my posting in India.”

A look of real concern swept over his friend’s face. “Rotten luck that, but why?”

“You know the military. No reason given, to be executed with all dispatch and kept secret at the highest level of confidentiality.”

“Ah.” The major momentarily assumed a more serious look. “My lips are sealed. But that
is
hard luck. You’ve barely disembarked.”

“I’m not looking forward to the voyage, but you know the regiment is my real home, not this soggy island. In truth, I should rejoice to be returning so soon were it not that I must leave Temperance behind.”

“Then take her along with you, my boy. It will cost you next to nothing to keep her in India. You can give her a fine little bungalow and so many servants she need never again lift a hand. She’ll think herself in paradise.”

“Not possible. I’ve promised my mother to wed as soon as I can, and I wouldn’t insult my wife by keeping a mistress. I can’t take Temperance halfway across the world only to abandon her when I marry.”

“No. I suppose you couldn’t. Though I shouldn’t imagine she would have trouble finding another protector when you moved on. She is a spectacular piece of womanflesh. I’d take her in a moment if she’d have me.”

It was with difficulty that Trev kept his clenched fist by his side. Temperance was
his.

“No insult intended,” the major added hastily. “You really do care about her, don’t you?”

“Too much for my own good. I’ve never before met anyone like her.”

“I had a girl like that in Bombay, back in ’11,” the major said wistfully. “A taking little thing, a quartermaster’s daughter. Had disgraced herself with some cornet and been cast off by her family. We spent a month together, and I should have been happy to spend my life with her, but my mother wouldn’t countenance such a match. Mother died not long after that, but by then Kitty had taken the money she’d saved and sailed off. I’ve never found anyone else to match her.”

The major contemplated his brandy for a moment, then took another sip. “It’s a damned shame, isn’t it, that the ones we love to bed aren’t the ones we can wed.”

“A damned shame, indeed. But would you truly have wed her had your mother not been so opposed?”

“Oh yes. We were so happy together, and she was used to a soldier’s life, having been bred to it. I should have been a different man had I married her. She might have been the making of me.”

Trev almost quipped that rather than being the making of him, a wife might have kept him from making his many pleasurable conquests, but a certain softness in his friend’s eye warned him away from the topic.

It had never occurred to him that the major might have wished for any other life than that of a hedonistic bachelor. Indeed, Trev had envied him for not being, as he was, obliged to wed. This new insight into his friend’s character startled him. But neither of them was comfortable with unnecessary displays of emotion, so Trev moved swiftly to bring the conversation to a conclusion.

“Will you keep an eye on Temperance after I’m gone?” he asked. “I can think of no one else to whom I would feel confident entrusting her safety.”

“I’d be honored to.” A sheepish look swept over Stanley’s bluff features. “You know I was only jesting about taking her on myself.”

“Of course. You’ve always been a loyal friend.”

An uneasy look passed over the major’s features, and he looked away. Why? The major was his best friend. Why had he reacted so strangely to hearing Trev praise him for his loyalty? Then it flashed across his mind that perhaps his friend was embarrassed because he still harbored a less-than-loyal yearning for Temperance. If that was the explanation, it was understandable. Temperance would tempt any red-blooded male.

But now that the matter had been brought out into the open, Trev knew he could trust the major not to violate the bonds of friendship. He explained the financial arrangements he intended to make for Temperance and extracted from the major the promise that he would personally see that she got on the ship for America safely and in possession of sufficient funds to keep her—and any possible outcome of their dalliance—in comfort, once she arrived. The major made a few more helpful suggestions and promised to treat Temperance with the consideration he would have given his own daughter.

His conscience relieved, Trev left his friend nursing his brandy with a wistful look that made him wonder if the older man’s thoughts were still lingering on those long-ago days in Bombay and the woman who had slipped away.

I
t was only later, when he was on his way to meet with his solicitor to wrap up some important matters regarding his estate, that Trev had the sudden, overwhelming, vision of himself a few decades hence, guzzling brandy at noon and booming with false heartiness as he told some other young man of the woman who might have changed his life if he’d only had the courage to wed her.

He didn’t want to be that man.

And, as the words that had started the major off on his reminiscence came bounding back into his memory, Trev knew, with a certainty that stopped him in his tracks, that he didn’t
have
to be that man.

Why hadn’t he seen it before?

He
could
wed Temperance. There was no reason he must marry one of the girls his mother had been pressing on him. He must wed to secure his mother’s fortune in case he didn’t survive her, but any son born to him in lawful matrimony would do that, including any son born to him and Temperance.

He need only tell his mother that he had wed the daughter of a wealthy man from the North. If he waited until he returned to India to do it, she’d assume he’d chosen one of the notorious “fishing fleet” of women who come out husband hunting to India. He need never reveal the real circumstances under which he’d done his wooing.

The idea, once formed, obsessed him. But he must not get ahead of himself. What made him think Temperance would wish to marry him? It had taken all his persuasive powers to keep her from abandoning him last night. With what he’d shown her of his darker side, she had no reason to believe he could be a loving husband.

And besides, he knew how much she wanted to go to America. Why should she give up her dream of living in the land of liberty in exchange for the dubious pleasure of becoming an officer’s wife? Especially when that officer served in a regiment that was famed for its loyalty to the king she thought of as a tyrant?

And yet, his heart whispered that the pursuit of an ideal, no matter how lofty, couldn’t offer her the happiness he longed to give her. If he could awaken in her even a shadow of the feelings that filled him, might she not be willing to give up her devotion to an abstraction and share his life?

For she would make the perfect wife for him. She had survived years in the filthy warrens of the poor. The miasmas of India could not be any more dangerous than what she’d already been exposed to in the rookeries. That toughness was what made her so ideal a partner for him. If he married her, he need not send her to England at the first sign of pregnancy as he would have been forced to do had he married one of the sheltered girls his mother favored. He could have a real wife, not some distant creature on which to breed the heir his mother needed.

It was even possible, though he could hardly allow himself to entertain the possibility, that if he wed her, he could have what he’d never let himself admit he wanted: a real family—the kind other people took for granted, something he had never known.

And all he need do to achieve it was, somehow, in the brief time allotted to him before he must embark for India, make Temperance want him with the same fervor with which he wanted her now. Just that.

It seemed impossible. But he would do it. He did his best work when failure wasn’t an option.

Chapter 15

T
he meeting with Snake had destroyed any hope Temperance might have had that she and Trev might find happiness in the brief time they could spend together. He had demanded honesty from her, and she had promised to give it to him, but how could she be honest with him about Snake’s threat? Trev was too much a man of action to ignore it.

She’d seen how he’d reacted to Mother Bristwick when they’d met her on the street, and all the old bawd had done then was hurl a veiled insult or two. She could only imagine what he’d do if she told him how Snake had threatened her. He’d take things into his own hands and go charging in after him, and that would lead to certain disaster. He had no idea what the Weaver and his minions were capable of, but she did. She’d seen what they’d done to their enemies. She cared for Trev too much to allow them to do that to him.

But knowing she couldn’t be honest with Trev made her dread their next encounter. With that way he had of seeing into the deepest parts of her nature, he would know she was violating her pledge, and that would be that for him. She couldn’t doubt it. So as much as she longed to see him, she feared their next meeting, knowing how it must end.

It was evening when she finally heard his knock at the door of her lodging chamber. When she opened it, it she found him clutching a huge bouquet of hothouse roses. The lushness of the deep red blossoms contrasted strongly with the determined masculinity of his uniform. Knowing what she was keeping from him, she kept herself from flinging herself into his arms but merely took the bouquet from him and busied herself with arranging it in a pitcher, hoping he couldn’t detect her uneasiness.

But he, too, seemed oddly restrained, and even a bit uncomfortable—though this new mood of his was nothing like the hostile coldness that had radiated from him when he’d come to her chamber the previous night. It was something new she couldn’t interpret.

When she’d arranged the roses to her satisfaction, she breathed in their lush scent. “No one ever brought me flowers before,” she said.

“There’s a lot else no one ever did for you, Tem. I shall try to make up for it.”

She started to protest, but stopped when she saw how much pleasure he was taking from the thought.

“These roses are but a small token of what I should like to give you,” he added. “But I feared to choose a more significant gift without consulting you. I’d love to give you something truly special, but I didn’t think you’d take pleasure in the usual kinds of gifts men give women—bracelets and all.”

He’d got that right. A gift of jewelry, no matter how lovely, would have made her feel all too much like a light-of-love. She was touched that he hadn’t bought her something that might have made her feel the disadvantages of her position.

She was about to assure him that she wanted nothing from him but his company, but as she opened her mouth to say it, she stopped, struck by the realization that there
was s
omething he could give her that would be more precious than rubies, for it would restore her ability to be frank with him. But could she ask for so great a gift?

Observing her pause, he said, “You hesitate to ask me for what you really want. Please, don’t be shy about telling me, whatever it is.”

“It may be too much to ask of you. I don’t wish to seem greedy.”

“Ah, but I am already greedy for the pleasure I will take in giving what you really want.” His ruined lip quirked up at the humor of his logic.

She glanced at the roses. Maybe he really meant it. If he did, perhaps their connection could survive for the few more weeks that were left.

She spoke hurriedly, to keep from losing her courage. “Could you do something for Danny, the crossing boy? His lungs are so weak, he’ll die if he has to spend another winter on the street. If you could but find him a place somewhere, far away from London, he might have a chance. Is that too much to ask?”

He blinked with surprise. “No. Not at all. It’s an odd request to be sure, but it does you credit.” He stopped to think for a moment. “How would it be if I sent him to the estate in the country where my mother lives when she is not in Town? He could serve her as a page. It’s light work, and I’ll leave instructions that, when the boy grows stronger, he be apprenticed in a useful trade.”

Her knees almost buckled as a wave of relief swept over her. “That would please me beyond measure.” With a single stroke, he had removed Snake’s ability to compel her service. And she’d done it without being forced to lie. “But do it soon. There’s no time to waste.”

“I will do it as soon as I leave you. But I can’t leave you now, not when you smile at me like that. I’ve never seen you look so beautiful, and I would go to great lengths to make you smile like that again.”

She wished she could tell him why she was so grateful to him, to increase his pleasure in the gift he had given her, which was so much greater than he knew. But she could not, so she said only, “How can I not smile? Your offer proves I wasn’t pitching gamon when I said you were kind.”

“You have made it possible for me to be kind,” he said softly. “You set me an example of kindness with your concern for the boy. And I am glad to have the chance to show you there
is
more to me than my anger.” He stopped abruptly.

His indigo eyes had lost that eagle’s gaze they held so often, and a look of tenderness had replaced it. She knew he wanted her, badly. But she knew, too, that he was restraining himself from demanding that she respond to his desire. He would not overpower her this time, as much as he might want to. He would let her set the pace.

She turned her lips up to his and parted them in invitation. He met them with a gentle kiss that sent a thrill throughout her entire body. It felt so right to be in his arms. She gave herself up to the pleasure of it, pulling him closer. As his tall, strong body pressed against hers, she felt her hunger awaken and respond to the passion that radiated out from him in waves, as hard as he struggled to contain it.

She must merge with him again; her entire being craved it—in kindness this time, yes, if it were possible—but shameful though it might be, she hungered, too, for the wild intensity they had shared the night before. She would take whatever he would give her. Her need for him possessed her.

But he had more discipline than she did, and when she began to pull him toward the bed, he released her. She felt a shock as their bodies separated.

“Damn it, Tem, but there’s something I must say before this goes any further though I have barely the courage to spit it out. I was tempted to keep it secret, and to make love to you first before broaching what might be a painful subject for us both. But to take you under false pretenses would be wrong.”

She drew back, cold fear gnawing at her belly. Had he already found the bride he must marry? What else could explain his sudden need to shower her with gifts?

Unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice, she asked, “Must you leave me even sooner than you expected?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said. “Not at all.”

“Then what is it?”

He gulped, then stood up straighter. The gold braid on his tunic glittered in the light of the single candle, defining his broad chest, which seemed to pulse with the intensity of his heartbeat. He was in the grip of something now that had him reaching into the very depths of his being for strength.

He thrust out his chin. Under the wide slashes of his brow, his eyes burned. He stepped back and took a deep breath, like a boy about to jump off a ledge. Then he dropped to his knee, bringing his close-cropped curls on the same level with her waist. She resisted the urge to tousle them as he turned up to her the eyes of that child he’d once been, whose childhood had ended so abruptly.

Then he spoke. “It’s usual, I know, here in England, when wooing a woman, to take one’s time, but I don’t have the luxury of time. I must leave for India soon, and I don’t wish to return there without you—I couldn’t bear it. Is it possible—would you consider—” He stopped, flustered, then the words tumbled out. “It is the deepest wish of my heart that you return with me to India.”

“As your paramour?”

“As my wife.”

He reached into one pocket and brought forth a small jeweler’s box, padded with velvet. Buried in its folds was a thick gold ring of antique design.

“My future happiness is entirely at your disposal,” he said awkwardly. “As unworthy as I might be, may I beg you to become my partner in marriage?”

She couldn’t believe she’d heard what she thought he’d said.

“Marry you? But why?”

His lip tightened involuntarily. “I must wed, and the time we have spent together convinces me you would make me an excellent wife. You are strong and could support the rigors of the Indian climate. You are adventurous and would take joy in a life of travel in foreign lands. You are brave. A soldier’s wife must be brave—”

“Just that?”

He shifted uneasy. “What else would you have me say?”

“That you love me.” The appalling words tumbled out before she could stop them.

His eyes met hers, their pupils so wide that the circle of copper that edged them was engulfed by their blackness. “I could love you,” he whispered. “If you could love me. Can you?”

Now it was her turn to look away.

Could she love him? Before he had made her this astonishing offer of marriage, she might have thought so, for she would have called the yearning she felt for him love. But was it really love—the kind that could last through the decades they would spend together?

Or was what she’d been calling love merely the feeling that had welled up within her in response to her certainty he would eventually abandon her?

She couldn’t trust herself to answer. She had never allowed herself to dream that, flawed as she was, someone would ever ask her such a question. And the gold ring that sparkled in Trev’s hand posed such a strong temptation. She had only to accept it, and she would start a new life with this man, whose strength and discipline attracted her as no one else ever had. The warmth in his glowing eyes as he awaited her answer tormented her. She wanted to drown herself in them, now, and forever, as she could, if she were to become his wife.

Yet there were so many reasons why it would be impossible.

His face fell. “It was too much to ask of you. I’m sorry. It was too sudden. I should have known our truce was still too new for me to ask for such a thing. You have no reason to trust me enough to agree to it.

“It isn’t that. But you ask so much of me—that we spend a lifetime together. Are we capable of loving each other when the clash of battle is over? We have known each other for so short a time, how could we dare attempt such a thing? And if we fail—”

She stopped for a moment, her mind unable to put words around what she needed to say. Then it came to her, and she said, “When Lady Hartwood read my chart, she told me my husband would be my greatest friend or my worst enemy. If we were to bind ourselves together, and one of us was to betray the other, we would end up destroying each other.”

“There is all too much truth in what you say. And yet, the very fact that you have the courage to say it gives me hope. We are both realists, Tem. We would go into this with our eyes wide open. And though I know full well it won’t be easy, I’m willing to risk it, for if anyone could be the wife of my heart, it would be you.”

“But why? Why me?”

He thought deeply before answering. “There are so many reasons. Because one stands before all the rest. You are capable of loyalty. Intense loyalty. You were faithful to Randall even though he did little to deserve it, even when you thought he was dead. ”

“I was,” she admitted, uneasy.

“And
I
would be faithful to you. Unlike him. I wouldn’t ask of you what I wouldn’t give you in return.”

“Were you faithful to your other mistresses?”

“I’ve had no other mistress. The few women I had in India were not mine to keep; nor did they wish to be mine. I’ve always been alone, devoting myself to sacrifice and duty.”

“Am I to become another duty?”

“No,” he said simply. “You would be my reward for all that sacrifice, the only pleasure I have ever been selfish enough to demand for myself.”

Pleasure. The word made her flinch. For that was the biggest stumbling block. Could they make love without the clash of battle? Could they find pleasure together that wasn’t tinged with fear and anger?

Softly, he answered her unspoken question. “I’ve never made love with a woman who was loyal to me. I’ve never made love with a woman to whom I could be true. I don’t know what it’s like. I should like to find out. I’m willing to risk it. Will you?”

She nodded, her heart so full she was unable to speak.

He reached for the box that held the ring and said, “Would you take this ring and place it on your fourth finger, where the vein runs up to your heart?”

He held it out. It glowed in the candlelight, a circle of fire.

“But what if we can’t find love together?”

“It’s only a ring,” he growled. “If we fail, you can do with it what you wish. It won’t bind you unless you wish it to. I will hold you only to the vows we made when we made our truce—that you tell me the truth and not leave me without warning.”