The Lion's Daughter (36 page)

She
covered her face. She'd behaved like a bitch in heat. She was
disgusting.

“Ah,
the morning after.”

Esme
dropped her hands and stared in horrified disbelief at the doorway.

Varian
stood there for a moment, a faint smile curving his beautiful mouth
as he studied her. Then he closed the door as quietly as he'd opened
it, crossed the room, and picked up her nightgown.

“You'd
better put something on,” he said. “Otherwise, I may be
tempted to reacquaint myself with What's under the blankets, and I
had rather not wrinkle my trousers.” He dropped the gown on the
bed.

Her
face blazed.

Varian
retired to the window and turned away.

His
dark coat fit as though it had been sculpted to him, emphasizing his
broad shoulders and narrow waist, and his trousers hugged the muscles
of his long legs. Last night she'd shamelessly wrapped herself about
his naked, sweating body; this morning, he seemed a stranger. Esme
wanted desperately to dash out the door while his back was turned and
run far, far away.

Instead,
she sat up and clumsily yanked the night rail over her head. Her
fingers trembled so badly that she tied the ribbons in knots.

“I
—
I
thought you had gone,” she choked out.

“Did
you? And where did you think I'd go?” He was still looking out
the window.

“To
Corfu.”

“Ah,
yes. Without you.” He turned around. “Seduced and
abandoned, that's what you thought
—
along
with heaven knows what else. I don't especially want to know what
else. The morning after, as I said. It's tomorrow, Esme.”

The
ominous tone in his voice sent a chill through her. Instinctively,
she pulled the bedclothes up to her chest. “Of course it is
tomorrow. There is no need to make it sound like Judgment Day.”

“Is
that what it sounds like to you? How interesting. Because it is, in a
way. For you, that is.”

Varian
leaned back against the window frame and folded his arms across his
chest. His face was expressionless as stone, his voice cool and
clipped. “I woke early this morning. Among other concerns, I
wondered where Percival had got to. I found him downstairs with
Qeriba and learned it was he who saved our lives.”

Qeriba.
In this house. Esme gazed at the bedclothes in despair.

“Your
loyal friends were determined I should have no assistance whatsoever,
not even that of my own escort,” Varian went on. “They
were convinced I was Beelzebub, apparently. Luckily, Percival
disobeyed my orders and was on the spot to reassure them. Unluckily,
they refused to trust a translator. Your cousin was obliged to
explain our situation in Albanian.”

Imagining
her poor cousin struggling with an unfamiliar language while
surrounded by a crowd of hostile strangers, Esme winced. “He is
a very brave boy. He saved not only us but all my friends as well.
Ali would have punished them cruelly if you had drowned.”

“Percival
didn't know,” Varian continued as though she hadn't spoken,
“that in Albanian, the word for 'friend' can also mean
'spouse,' just as the word for 'man' can mean 'husband.' He thought
he was telling them I was a good man, a friend, and that you'd run
away because of a misunderstanding. What your friends heard was that
you'd run away from your
husband.
That's why, after rescuing us, they
left us to sort out our differences in the time-honored fashion of
wedded couples.”

Esme
tried to read his expression, but he gave her nothing. She raised her
chin. “It was a simple mistake. Everyone will understand when
it is explained. Besides, it can be no secret that I shared your tent
many times. If you are worried that my cousin will be shamed by such
a thing,” she went on stiffly, “then you can leave me
here. I never wished to go to Corfu, as I have told you countless
times.”

Varian's
expression chilled. “I hoped that is not why you ordered me to
ruin you, Esme.”

“I
did not
order
you!”
But that was a lie. She had insisted.
Demanded.
Her entire body burned with shame.

“I
told you 'no,' didn't I?”

“Yes,
but—”

“But
you wouldn't listen.” He approached the bed. “I've warned
you repeatedly. I
begged
you
last night. You had only to say 'no.' But you wouldn't. You know the
sort of man I am. A girl as clever as you must have known the instant
you clapped eyes on me. You were clever enough, certainly, to
manipulate me in other ways. And you'd sense enough to encourage me
to believe you were a child. Regrettably, that is about all the sense
of self-preservation you've demonstrated.”

He
heaved a great sigh and sat down upon the bed.

Esme
knew well enough how badly she'd behaved. All the same, she did feel
it was unkind of him to add his sarcastic reproaches to what was
rapidly becoming the most humiliating morning of her life. But as she
surreptitiously studied him, her conscience gave a painful jab.

Now
that he was near, she saw he was not nearly so composed as he'd
appeared. There were deep shadows under his eyes, and his skin was
unusually pale. He looked as though he hadn't slept a wink.

“You
are upset about last night,” she said. It was a stupid, awkward
thing to say, but it was out as soon as she thought it. “I am
—
I
am sorry it was
—
it
is not pleasant for you to think about.”

Varian
turned his gaze full upon her, his face still blank. “Not
pleasant?”

Esme
looked away. “I didn't realize
—
oh,
I wasn't thinking, or maybe I would have realized that
—
that
it could not be pleasurable with an ignorant girl. I could not
understand why you kept wanting to stop. I was not thinking how
wearisome it must be for you. Worse
—
after
swimming across the harbor and nearly drowning, too. But it is all of
a piece, isn't it?” she said sadly. “I made you go
through the swamps and up and down the mountains and endure all the
filth and vermin and
—”

“Esme,
are you quite well?” he asked in a queer, strangled voice.

“I
am much better than I deserve,” she muttered. “I deserve
to be
shot.
I
should not be allowed among civilized people. I belong in the
mountains, with the wild beasts.”

He
cleared his throat. “I did indicate the day of reckoning had
arrived, my dear. I had something a bit more drastic in mind,
however.”

Her
eyes opened very wide. She'd not meant to be taken literally. “M-more
drastic?”

“You
may well look frightened, Esme. It's about time you did.” He
pried her hand from the blanket and clasped it firmly between his.
“Miss Brentmor, like it or not, you are going to do me the very
great honor of becoming Lady Edenmont.”

Esme
stared blindly at her trapped hand. “What?”

“My
wife,” he said. “Marriage. You can't seduce me and expect
to get away scot-free.”

She
tried without success to extricate her hand. “Varian, this is
not amusing.”

“The
knell of doom rarely is.”

“You
talk nonsense,” she said. “It is a spiteful joke
—
to
get even, because you are angry with me. Or else you lied to me about
Ali. Or else
...”

Esme
paused as another, far more disquieting possibility came to her. “Oh,
Varian, it cannot be because I was a maiden. Surely I was not the
first
—”
She stopped dead then, because he
stiffened. A shadow crossed his features.

“I
am not yet thirty years old,” he said. “I'd not yet got
round to ravishing virgins. Not that I blame you for believing
otherwise.”

“It
does not matter,” she said quickly. “You cannot be so
foolish as to tie yourself to a female on that account. You said you
would not wed for a thousand pounds, yet you will do so because of a
small piece of flesh? That makes no sense. How many girls lose their
maidenheads by accident? It may happen on a horse or in a host of
ways. I do not understand why nature created such a thing at all. It
only makes trouble.”

Varian
shook his head. “I might have known. Esme logic, that's what it
is. I should not have left you this morning. I should not have given
you one instant to think. I knew you'd need looking after. But so did
other people
—
and
I've not had much practice looking after anybody.”

“I
do not need
—”

“Yes,
you do. Come here.” He released her hand.

“Where?”

“Where
do you think? Where would your lover want you but in his arms?”

“You
are not my
—”

“Yes,
I am. Stop being silly, Esme.
Hajde.”

He
was her lover
—
or
had been
—
and
in any case, she could no more resist his invitation than night could
resist the lunrise. Sheepishly, she crept onto his lap. His arms
tightened possessively about her, and her heart gave a mad leap of
relict'. She buried her face in his coat.

“That's
better, isn't it?” His voice was gentler.

“Yes.”

“Because
we're excessively infatuated with each other, aren't we?”

“Yes.
At least I am, Varian,” she mumbled to the wool.

“That
is why we made love,” he said. “I did not find it
wearisome. My only trouble was guilt. I am very fond of you. You make
me insane, but that's simply part of it. I did not want to dishonor
you. You're brave and strong and beautiful, and a great many of my
countrymen will fall head over ears, in love with you. If I'd left
you untouched, you could marry one of them. I had good intentions,
you see. Unfortunately, those were no match for my lust and
selfishness
—
and
when you wouldn't say 'no,' you quite finished them. I want you to
understand that you're a little to blame in this, Esme. I've not much
honor left to me, but I would have heeded a 'no'
...
I hope.”

She
drew back to look at him. “Of course you would. Why do you
think I would not say it? And do not talk of a
little
blame. I am sure I would have tried
to kill you if you had refused me.”

“Then
perhaps you'll understand why I shall kill you if you refuse to wed
me.”

Esme
closed her eyes. Every time she had tried to run away from him, she'd
felt so wretched she wanted to die. But to tie him to her in the eyes
of all the world and God Himself?

She
was a rude, ungovernable hoyden, he an English lord
...
and a libertine. His nature could
not tolerate the shackles of marriage. And when his desire for her
faded
—
as
it must
—
he'd
abandon her, in spirit if not in fact. His gaze would turn cold,

disgusted
...
How would she bear it? Better,
far better, to break away now.

“I
can hear you thinking,” he said grimly. “It's bound to
lead to trouble.”

“Varian
—”

“Try
thinking about
this!'
He
tilted her face back and brought his mouth to within an inch of hers.

Automatically,
her head snaked round his neck to bring him to her.

“No,”
he said. “If you won't marry me, I shall never kiss you again.”

His
breath was warm on her face, his body strong and sheltering. His
hands were so gentle, tenderly stroking her jaw. Her pulse was
racing.

“This
is not fair, Varian,” she said shakily.

“I
don't play fair. Yes or no?”

And
so he won.

SHE
WAS
DOOMED,
Varian told himself an hour later, as he pressed a kiss to her neck.
She'd been doomed from the moment she met him. Not content with
killing her father, Fate had sent Varian St. George along to kill her
future.

All
the same, he'd found it difficult to feel guilty while this
beautiful, wayward creature lay in his arms, begging to be loved.
Heaven knew she needn't beg. He'd wanted to make love to her from the
instant he'd awakened. He'd just done so, and wanted to again.

But
he couldn't spend the entire day in bed with her. Perci-val and
Qeriba were downstairs, waiting to be assured Esme would not create
difficulties about getting married. More disturbing was the thought
of Ismal, who could be waiting as well
...
anywhere.