The Price of Pleasure (32 page)

T
ori lay in bed, staring at the peeling wallpaper. She was like this old room, worn and neglected. After Grant had left, she wondered each hour if she could feel emptier, and each hour she did. Her sadness was escalating, and she feared where it would end.

Had he left her? For good? She hadn't given him any reason to stay. Curse it! He couldn't give up—not when he'd shown her what she couldn't live without.

Him.

That utter, utter bastard.

Realizing she'd never get him off her mind, she rose and walked into his room, pilfering his pillow. She lay down again, bringing it up to her chest and hugging it. It wasn't as if his scent would bring more dreams throughout the night. There couldn't be
more
dreams about him.

She heard noises downstairs and jumped out of bed once more, hoping he'd come home. But when she lifted the window sash and surveyed the drive, a light in the distance caught her eyes.

Panic clogged her throat. The sheep barn was ablaze.

Sprinting down the stairs, screaming for help the whole way down, Tori ran for the barn. They had sick ewes in there mending, pregnant ones needing extra food and care.

When she'd charged breathless into the valley, several villagers were already working a fire line, although everyone had to know the fire was too intense and spreading too rapidly for anything to be done. Her knees threatened to buckle. Yet she forced herself closer to the fire to see if she could help, then blinked her eyes in incomprehension.

Looking past the flames inside, she spied Grant on the other end of the barn. She cried his name—he couldn't hear her. She ran for him, but the heat drove her back. He had his coat off, swatting at the few ewes left, forcing the confused animals to escape. As if having received a blow, she watched him drop down and vanish behind a wall of flame. Then he stood again—only to disappear once more.

Hiking up her gown, she ran around the entire length of the barn, through high wet grasses, slipping as she went. When she reached the south opening, she peered in, but couldn't see him at all. The air left her lungs as though she'd been hit. She sucked in a smoke-filled gasp and screamed his name, yet received no answer. No, she couldn't panic.
Find him and drag him back.

Determined, she walked into the flaming entrance.

An arm like steel wrapped around her waist and hurled her outward, her body pushed far from the barn and shoved to the ground. She landed, wheezing, Grant falling on top of her just as the roof gave in with a shuddering boom and a shower of sparks floated up to the sky.

When she reclaimed her wits, she rolled on top of him, sitting up to straddle him, wondering where to hit him first. How dare he risk himself like that! Didn't he know she couldn't live without him?

“Christ, Victoria,” he bit out as his hands flew to her hips. “If I'd known this would be the outcome, then I'd have set the fire myself—”

“You stupid, stupid man,” she said with a slap. “Obstinate! That's what you are.” Punch. “I ought to kill you myself.” She beat at his chest like a drum.

When she pinched him—hard—he rolled her over, pinning her arms above her head.

“No!” She struggled to free her arms. “I'm not through hitting!”

“I'm through being hit.”

She bucked her hips beneath him, making him groan. “Love, that doesn't have the effect I think you intended.”

Tears flooded her eyes in a rush. “Why did you stay in there? Why didn't you run away the first time you fell?”

He released her hands and leaned down beside her. “I didn't fall.”

“I saw you go down twice.”

He frowned. “I suppose it'd look like I fell. But I was retrieving some things.”

“What things?”

His face tightened. “Just some things.”

It was then that she heard mewing sounds. “The kittens!” She twined her head toward the sound and saw several shaky balls of fur crawling out from under his coat to their mother. “I thought for sure they were dead—they were up in the hayloft.”

“The cat was moving them one at a time to the ground. But then the fire spread. The grayish one—”

“They're all gray now.”

“Then the small one who is
still
hissing…he was not cooperative with my rescue.”

Tori was grinning now. “That's why you went down a second time? To rescue one last kitten?”

“In for a penny,” he muttered.

Tori saw the mother cat blink at them with a kitten in her mouth, already setting to work transporting, “I think you've just become my hero. My rescuer of kittens.”

“That's enough,” he grumbled.

She kissed his face. “I didn't know how I was going to get to you.”

“Damn it, Victoria. You need to promise you'll never do anything dangerous to help me.”

“Can't,” she mumbled.

He put his hand on her face, and brushed at the tears on her cheeks. “Why?”

She caught his gaze.
Because I'm in love with you. More than ever before….
She knew she couldn't bear to live without him—no matter what the circumstances—and drew a breath to tell him—

“Miss!” Huckabee called as he trotted over. “Are you all right?”

Grant groaned and rolled on his back as though stunned from the intimate contact with her.

“We're fine,” she said, but now that she and Grant had separated, she began shaking in the cold grass.

Grant shot to his feet. “Huckabee, get a bath heating,” he barked.

“The new girl has a heap of water on.”

“Good.” Grant pulled her up and grabbed his coat from the ground, then wrapped it around her shoulders, bringing her close to his side. Even through the smoke and soot, she imagined she could smell his skin.

Halfway up the valley, she stumbled, and he swooped her into his arms. When she moved an inch to be more comfortable, he mistook the motion as a protest.

“Just let me have this,” he rasped.

She relaxed in his arms. Did he think that would be all she'd give him tonight?

He carried her into her room, booted open the door to the bathing closet, then raised his eyebrows when he saw the massive marble bath situated before a stoked grate. Steam rose from the water.

He deposited her at the side of the basin. “Will you manage?” His voice was low and rough.

No, she wouldn't. She didn't want to let him out of her sight and knew a grand way to keep him here. She looked down shyly, gliding her finger back and forth across the water. “We both smell like smoke, and there's a bath big enough for two. All this inviting water…”

She bit her lip nervously, wondering what he would do, but before she glanced up at him he was already kicking off his boots. She jumped up to help him with his shirt, then lifted her arms for him to draw her ruined nightdress from her.

Her fingers sought his trousers and grazed his skin low as she worked the buttons, the slight touch sending his breath whistling.

“Get into the water, Victoria.” His voice was ragged. “You need to get warm.”

She was tempted not to, to see if he'd take her right there. When she hesitated, he clasped her shoulders, turned her, and tapped her on the bottom to prod her forward. With shaking legs, she climbed the two steps leading up to the edge. As she sank into the water all the way up to her chest, she sighed in contentment even as she held her hand out to him.

He eased in, then drew her between his legs. She thought he would kiss her, but he moved her to put her back to his chest. He grasped a bar of soap and gently washed her hair, piling it atop her head so he could bathe her back and shoulders before moving to her upper chest. He scarcely touched her breasts. This was all business. He poured water over her hair and back, rinsing her clean.

“Your turn.” She moved around in the basin to sit behind him. As he'd done, she washed him, massaging the tight muscles of his back, rinsing him off. To reach his chest, she leaned into his back, making sure he felt her breasts slipping across his skin. In an instant, he turned to her, kneeling, reaching out on each side of her to grasp the basin behind her. His whole body enclosed her.

He reached his head down to kiss and nip from her collarbone to her breast. She arched her back so he could taste her nipples. When he dragged his tongue over the first, his arms straightened and flexed around her. Her hands latched on to them, holding on as she raised herself to him. He licked and suckled mercilessly, and right when she thought she might reach her climax just from his mouth on her breasts, he groaned against one pebble-hard peak, “I can't take much more. I've wanted you too long.”

“Then take me to bed,” she murmured.

He sucked in a breath and stood, but she was slower, especially slow when his heavy shaft hung just before her face, commanding her attention. He reached down to lift her up, but she ignored his hand and grasped him. He groaned as if in pain, but she couldn't have let go if she desired to. So slick and hard, with water sluicing down the hollows and outcurves of rigid stomach muscles, running along the trail of hair to his engorged shaft.

“I missed this….” Before he could stop her, she kissed him lovingly, showing him how much. His flesh was hot against her lips and pulsed against her tongue, making her hungry to suck him into her mouth as he'd described all those nights ago.

With an inhuman growl, he buried his hands in her hair. She couldn't tell if he was pulling or pushing her away and thought he didn't know either. “You don't know what you do to me. Seeing your lips on me and knowing you
want
to pleasure me with your mouth. I've dreamed of this for so many nights.”

“What else have you dreamed of?” she asked against the crown, right before she flicked the salty tip with her tongue.

“My God.”
He threw his head back and she gazed upward over the straining muscles in his chest and arms. His body was a mass of power.

He didn't answer her question, but hauled her out of the basin, grabbed a towel, and roughly licked and dried every inch of her. She tried to do the same to him, but he pulled her to his chest, to look down at her eyes. “Did I frighten you the last time we made love? Did I hurt you?”

“No, never.”

“Then let me show you what I've dreamed of.” His words made shivers run up her spine.

He led her to the bed, pulling her to him when he sat, long legs stretched out, his back against the headboard. He was so strong he easily situated her where he wanted her, legs spread across him, straddling him as she had earlier in the night.

Would they make love like this? Her atop him? Before she could voice the question, he had his big hands on her bottom, pulling her sex forward toward his waiting mouth. When his tongue first found her, he groaned against her flesh, making her shudder. She felt herself grow wetter, knew he felt it when he growled,
“Sweet as honey.”

In total abandon, she twined her fingers in his hair, clasping him closer. At that, he groaned again and moved her down his body, placing her on his rod, guiding her down him. The movement was slow and torturing for her. For him as well, if she could tell by his squeezing and clutching, by the muscles straining in his neck and chest.

She let out a breath she hadn't known she held. Too intense…He went deeper than before, plunging far inside, and she still wasn't able to take all of him.

“I'm so near,” she panted.

Immediately, he drew her from him, bringing her back to his hungry mouth as he casually sat devouring her.

“Oh, God,” she cried, arching her back, pushing against his hot tongue rubbing inside her. Her peak loomed once more, but now it was sharper, near frightening.

When she placed her hands against the wall above him, preparing for the ecstasy about to take her, he again set her away, this time pounding her down on him, then surging his hips up.

She caught his gaze. He looked crazed, tortured, his control gone, and that took her over the edge. She cried out, convulsing around him, riding him, rolling her hips as he ground into her, making the pleasure too strong…. He watched her climax, his eyes dark and wild on her, fierce with want.

She was still squeezing around him when he wrenched her down against his chest, so rigid and wracked under her hands, until he yelled her name and his hot seed pumped into her.

D
iffused sunlight split the curtains in Victoria's room, waking Grant. When he looked down his chest, he was startled to see waves of blond hair covering him. Could he be so fortunate? Could he truly have spent the early hours of the morning making love to her and not just dreamed it again? Yes, last night had been real—incredibly, vividly real.

He was still alarmed by his want of her. Sometimes he felt craven with it. But now, with her sleeping form against his chest, his arms around her, he just wanted to squeeze her, to clasp her tight to him so she could know his feelings for her, how they confounded him in their strength. He'd never thought to have this and flinched to think how close he'd come to throwing it away.

He wanted to luxuriate in simply holding her, but knew he needed to ascertain the damage to the barn and get work under way, so with a weary exhalation, he rose and dressed. Careful not to wake her after the long night, he kissed her before leaving.

When he reached the valley, he saw that no part of the structure remained. In its place was a mound of smoking ash. Grant found Huckabee there and conferred with him, and they set the few who were there to work cleaning the old site.

Grant's first job was to find more workers. His second was to discover who'd dealt them this blow.

 

Stunned by the events of last night, Tori sat at her grandfather's desk, her emotions hurtling from elation that she and Grant had made love once more to devastation over the fire. When Grant strode through the doorway, she didn't even ask how bad it was. She could already tell from the tightness around his eyes.

He exhaled, then shook his head.

“Right before shearing and lambing,” she said in a deadened tone. “Nothing could have hurt us worse.”

When Grant raised his eyebrows, she realized she'd said “us.” It didn't matter. He'd find out sooner or later that she wasn't letting him leave.

He sank down in the chair across from her and reviewed what he and Huckabee had decided for the rebuilding. “I hope I didn't overstep.”

“No, I agree with everything you've said,” Tori assured him. “I wouldn't have handled it differently.”

He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Victoria, we need to talk about the actual fire. It was deliberately set.”

“That's impossible—”

“I smelled kerosene. There was a puddle of water actually burning, and a section of sodden clay as well. As if someone had pitched the kerosene all around the ground.”

She grabbed her forehead. “Why?”

“To send you a warning, I suspect. Or to make you vulnerable.”

“Who? Who would—” She broke off as a suspicion arose. “I wrote a letter to the broker just a couple days ago. He'd been shorting us for years. He owes us a huge amount.”

“McClure?”

At her nod, he said, “I want a list of all the creditors.”

An hour later, after poring over contracts, Grant muttered,
“Son of a bitch.”

“What?”

“This credit company—West London Financiers. That's the broker's company. M. McClure.” He sat at the edge of the desk and slid the documents to her.

“That can't be. Wouldn't there be a conflict of interest?”

“Yes, but this company's as shady as they come. They offer favorable rates of interest, yet in all their contracts they reserve the right to escalate the rate. Just when the borrower has difficulties, McClure tightens the noose.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Because several years ago, Ian was in to them for thousands of pounds. He had to borrow money just to pay off McClure's henchmen.”

“Oh, my Lord.”

“This man was lending the earl what was in essence his own money. He'd cheat Belmont and then extend the earl's credit. There can be no doubt that he wants this place.”

She was silent for some time. “Now I know why you put such a high value on your honor.” Her eyes were sad. “Because you've dealt with those who have none.”

He said nothing.

“Grant, what should I do?” she asked. “Go to the sheriff? Bring the law into this?”

“It won't stop another attack.”

Her eyes widened. “You think something like this will happen again?”

He regarded her with a grim expression. “No doubt of it.”

She suddenly felt very tired. “What do you suggest?”

“I'd already made up my mind to confront McClure.” His eyes narrowed. “Have the bastard beaten if necessary.”

Tori was astonished. He looked dark and forbidding.

“If I have to, then I'll play his game to protect what's…” He trailed off.

“What's yours,” she said quietly. “Like the estate.”

He pulled her up to him and put his forehead to hers. “I wasn't speaking of the estate. I meant you.”

“How should I know that?” she whispered.

“Because
you
are what I came back here to fight for.”

She leaned back, shaking her head. “You don't have to say these things. You came back for the estate, and I understand why—”

“The deed is in your name.”

“Wh-What?” she sputtered.

He stroked her cheek. “It has been since before I returned here.”

“So why?…”

“I couldn't conceive of a better way to be around you.”

“So you came back for me?” Her heart beat madly.
For me?

He nodded solemnly.

“That was your plan?”

“It's always good to have a plan.”

She gave him a wry grin. “How's it working out?”

The corners of his lips quirked up. “I am quite optimistic after last night.”

“I can't believe you gave it up for me.”

He turned from her and his face hardened. “It's not going to matter if McClure burns your home down around you. That's why I'm leaving today—”

“I'm going with you,” she interrupted.

He smiled ruefully. “Why did I expect you to say that? I'd already planned to drop you at Whitestone.”

She raised her eyebrows at him.

“It's not safe here, and you're not going to London.”

“I most certainly am going with you. Or without you,” she added ominously.

“This is dangerous. There's no way I'm risking you being hurt. You're going to Whitestone and that's final.”

She tapped her cheek and assumed a thoughtful expression. “I hadn't thought your family the type to tie someone down or lock them in a bedchamber.”

He looked nonplussed.

“That's the only way they'll keep me there.”

“Forget it, Victoria. There's simply no way I'll allow it.”

 

“I can't believe you're still grousing,” Victoria said lightly as they walked arm in arm along a side street in London.

He scowled down at her, trying to ignore how excited—and beguiling—she looked with her bonnet ribbons flapping against her pink cheeks. He wanted to kiss her and draw her close. Instead, he grumbled, “I can't believe you manipulated me into taking you with me.”

She smiled up at him, eyes adoring. When she looked at him like that, he could deny her nothing. Worse, he feared she'd concluded that as well.

“Grant, I just appealed to your logic. If you'd left me at Whitestone, I'd have followed. Only then I wouldn't have been be under your watchful eye for protection. Imagine me”—she put her hand to her breast—“on the road to London, alone, afraid…”

His lips curled. She smiled back, then looked past him. “Wait, this is it.”

He stopped her, placing her to face him. “I want you to say nothing. I'm going to handle this.”

She rolled her eyes. “As you've told me twenty times already.”

Grant made some growling noise at her and then opened the door for them. “We're here to see Mr. McClure,” he said to the office attendant.

The young man looked confused but went to confer with his employer. Minutes later, he returned to show them into the office.

One look at the broker had Grant raising his eyebrows and Victoria dropping her jaw.

M. McClure was a woman.