So Worthy My Love (27 page)

“Are you saying my uncle came in after you left the agent and then stabbed the man? I cannot believe that. Uncle Edward would never kill anyone! He's much too fainthearted for such a foul deed.”

Maxim chuckled at her honesty. “I thought so, too, but he obviously witnessed the fact that I was there. Why would he accuse me of killing the man if he were all that innocent of the deed himself?”

“Do you hate my uncle because you think he blamed you to cover his own crime? It certainly seemed your intent to kill him when I left the hall.”

“ ‘Tis not my desire to see Edward dead. At least, not yet. I would like him to suffer the humiliation of being found out a liar, a thief, and a coward. I cannot swear he murdered the agent, but his guilt will be found out, I've no doubt.”

“Even if you must arrange it?”

“For the present, Edward is safe from me.” Maxim raised a brow at her. “Perhaps you should be grateful for your uncle's sake that I cannot go back to England.”

“I'm no blood kin to Edward,” Elise admitted thoughtfully. “My mother was an orphan, left as a wee babe on the Stamford lands.”

“Your character shows me vast improvement with that knowledge.” A grin twitched at the corners of his lips. “There may be hope for you yet.”

“And what of Arabella?” Elise countered. “Did you see any hope in her, being his daughter?”

Maxim responded with a wayward smile. “I could never understand how Edward managed to sire so splendid a creature.”

The warming heat of the fire touched Elise's cheek, and for the first time that evening she felt a comfort and security she had not known for some hours. Surreptitiously she observed the man again as he stretched long, thin fingers toward flames that flickered ever higher, and she wondered distantly if his presence in the keep had anything to do with her feeling of well-being. Was she so dubious of Fitch and Spence's protection that she would find safety in the company of a rogue lord?

“Nicholas knows how to give good gifts,” Maxim commented as he nodded toward the rug
lying on the floor beside her bed. “He will spare no coin to see you happy.”

“I've been told that your coins purchased the gown I was wearing this afternoon . . .” Elise raised a lovely brow and needled as she asked, “Or should I accept the gift as replacement for my own clothes that were ruined during my capture?”

Ignoring her sharp jab, Maxim lifted his gaze to the frayed woolen gown hanging from a peg. “Is that the only thing you have to wear around here?”

Elise straightened her posture to display a haughty mien and gazed at him from her chair, as if she were a queen looking down upon her subject. “Do I detect a slur against my wardrobe, my lord?”

A snort of derision expressed his opinion adequately.

Feigning sorrow, Elise placed a delicately boned hand over the fur pelt covering her breast. “I'm wounded to the quick.”

Maxim's brief glance swept along the contour of her face, taking in every detail of it. The girl was not only comely, but she had wit and humor, which in truth Arabella had seemed at times to lack. A slow grin tugged at his lips. “I shall address you to a clothier's on the morrow. There you may select several gowns to fit your needs. The dressmaker knows of me and will take the order on account until you receive it.”

“I'm overwhelmed by your generosity, my lord.”

Maxim caught the sarcasm in her statement and lifted himself to his feet. “I've overstayed my welcome, it seems. The air grows chilly once again.”

The hearth gave off more warmth than it had all day, but Elise shrugged pertly, ignoring his subtle
meaning and the green eyes that rested upon her. “As you please, my lord.”

Taking up his cloak, Maxim stepped to the doorway, but paused there to glance back at her. “You'll need slippers and shoes to keep your feet warm. There's also a shoemaker in Hamburg where you may acquire what you have need of.”

“Will I be going with Fitch and Spence?” she queried innocently.

“Indeed, no!” Maxim answered with a short laugh. “You'll have them locked up in a goose cage within moments of your arrival. I shall do the honors myself.”

“Am I then to be presented as your prisoner? If that be the case, you can hardly expect me to abide a fitting while you're present.”

“You needn't fear, madam. I shall be elsewhere. I'm sure the dressmaker knows how to keep you well enough.”

Elise slumped back in her chair and frowned petulantly. What kind of woman was this dressmaker anyway that he could be so confident about leaving her?

Maxim turned to leave, but she bade him pause once more.

“A moment, I pray you, my lord.” She twisted her thin fingers worriedly as he faced her. “I should like to announce that I've hired a cook for us.”

The handsome brows gathered into a suspicious frown. “Indeed? And where did you find this cook?”

“Nicholas allowed me to have his.”

“No doubt after much sugar-coated pleading on your part!” Maxim snapped, and wondered
why his anger was so easily roused. “Nicholas would not let his cook go to me without a promised sweetmeat, which you seemed ready and willing to give him . . .” His voice sharpened with the accusation. “Even while I was here!”

“You're only afraid of the coins you might lose,” she charged with a flippant toss of her head. “You do not consider we might have starved to death waiting on
you
to find us a cook! I think Nicholas conveyed a most compassionate trait in allowing
his
cook to come to work for
you.”

“You think!”
Maxim barked. Why, you can't even see that Nicholas means to have you . . .”

“As his wife!” Elise finished sharply, flinging herself from her chair. Instinct told her that he would say otherwise.

With ponderous steps Maxim strode back to her until he stood close before her. He leaned down slightly until his eyes fairly blazed above her own, and as he gave her answer his reply built to an angry shout. “You mean as
his mistress!”

Her own eyes flashing, Elise pushed with all of her strength against his hardened chest, but Maxim remained obstinately stubborn and the best she gained was the loss of her wrap which slid from her naked shoulders. Even so, the proximity of such an outrageous fiend made her oblivious to her own appearance as she slowly pounded his chest. “Get out!” she demanded. “Be gone from here!”

Maxim's eyes swept downward to where the delicate chemise molded itself to the full curves of her bosom. The soft, pale peaks strained against the gossamer thinness of the garment, making him
aware of her womanliness. The fact that she could so casually reveal herself to him made him inexplicably furious. Was she such a bold wench then? Unchaste? Wanton? If she displayed such a lack of modesty with him, what treasure would she allow Nicholas to view?

His ire was quickly surmounted by a swiftly growing passion which only heightened his anger. His cheeks tensed as he struggled against his needs. Still, the hot blood flowed into his loins and started his pulse pounding in his ears. He had seen her in the early afternoon as a properly groomed lady, all soft and warm and beautiful, and he had found her stirringly appealing. Now here she was a fiery, sultry vixen who whet his appetite no small degree. Her breasts gleamed with the luster of pearls, luminescent where bathed by the firelight and darkly shadowed in the deep valley between those pale orbs. He was suddenly possessed by a raging desire to seize the wench and ease his long-starved passions with her.

Clenching his teeth, Maxim leaned closer until Elise's entire vision was filled with his snarling face. Even then he had to steel himself against violence as her heady fragrance invaded his being and wafted through his senses. “Do you think me a bloody eunuch, wench?” he questioned harshly. “Cover yourself before I spill your virgin blood!”

Elise's breath caught in a shocked gasp, and she stumbled back with flaming cheeks, snatching the fur robe around her shoulders. Only then did she dare raise her gaze, shamed by a rebuke that made her painfully aware of her own carelessness.

Maxim still glared at her as he battled his desires. His lean nostrils flared above tight lips, from whence came harshly rasped words. “I went to England for a bride, and if not for you, I would have had me one, willing and warm. Now I have a man's need roiling in the pit of my belly, and unless you be wary, madam, you will find yourself serving my needs. I'm not one to abuse a lady so, but now that Arabella is forever lost to me, any wench will do.” His steely green eyes bore into her. “As you may be aware, madam, many a belated vow has atoned for a gentleman's ravishment of a reluctant maid.”

He turned sharply and stalked from the room, leaving Elise staring after him in awed amazement until the fires of her own rage ignited into unparalleled fury. Following in the path of his footsteps, she went to the door and slammed it closed.

How dare the man threaten her with rape! She dropped the bar in place across its plank.

Did he think her some easy strumpet to abide his crude exercise of rutting manhood? She paced to and fro in front of the hearth.

By heavens, he would hear from her on the morrow! She would chastise him with a volley of verbal attacks that would rend that strutting cock to the core of his conceit!

T
HE FORMER
M
ARQUESS
sat the back of his horse with his hands resting on the high pommel of the saddle. Below the wooded bluff whereon he had paused, a river meandered peacefully between ice-crusted banks. On the far shore, patches of snow sparkled between growths of evergreens, and now and then a small, furry creature could be seen scurrying about in a perpetual search for food.

Maxim raised his head and watched a small flock of birds flit and swoop on the airy rushes of wind above the vale. Beyond their darting flights the sky was an azure blue. Only an occasional cloud scudded past to cast its shadow upon the land as the southerly breezes blew warming gusts through the treetops and out across the snow-bedecked meadows and forest glades. Maxim's gaze ranged far and wide, but he saw little of what met his eyes, for his mind was turned inward upon a memory. He had seen sapphire eyes alight with fire and auburn tresses cascading in glorious splendor over a scantily clad bosom, and the visions of her beauty haunted him. He was a man snared by a trap of his own making. The heat of a lengthy abstinence had thrust him to the very brink of restraint, and only by dint of
will had he hauled himself back from that abrupt precipice, crushing the urge to sweep her into his arms and carry her to her bed. The fact that he had reacted with such intensity and threatened her with rape left him struggling
with a painful chagrin.

Maxim forced his meandering thoughts to a more agreeable subject, his once-cherished betrothed. Now there was one who by her sweetness and quiet reserve merited his attention! No one argued that Arabella, by nature, was the epitome of a genteel lady and a serene beauty. His mind had always found succor when he sought out the memories they had made together, and he almost relaxed as he waited for his tensions to dissolve. Instead, he found himself grasping for images of her soft, gray eyes and the silken curl of her light brown hair. The visions were vague and indistinct. The curve of her lips escaped him. The shape of her nose and the curve of her chin shifted in a confused blur as he tried to evoke her visage. A weak smile of acquiescence was all he could recall of her response when he had presented his case for marriage to Edward. The memory stirred nothing in his breast, let alone in his loins. What eldritch wisdom had Nicholas been privy to that had allowed him to sense this pallid reaction, while he had himself
been convinced that a raging passion, worthy of the risk of death, had goaded him? Was it for revenge alone that he had sought Arabella's abduction, as Von Reijn had suggested?

Cautiously, as if he sought to pluck a red-hot coal from amid the glowing embers of his mind, Maxim tested the accuracy of his recall of a momentarily
glimpsed view of lustrous breasts nestled in the careless cover of a fur wrap, and pale peaks erect with a chill. His will betrayed him, and his memory expanded to a broad spectrum of visions that came at him from every quarter of his mind. He could see his charge's lips drawn tight in a sneer, then soft and gently parted as she slumbered. In his mind her russet hair spread out like a dark halo over her pillow. Her lashes rested like soft shadows on her cheeks or were flung wide, fringing deep blue eyes that smoldered dark with anger. He could imagine the set of her tensed jaw as she berated him and the slender column of her throat, from the lobe of her ear to a pale shoulder and the soft roundness of her breasts as she stood boldly before him and answered his objections, point for point.

Maxim cursed beneath his breath as he realized what those impressions extracted from him. Anger and frustration spiraled upward with the awareness of his desire. He fought against this burgeoning attraction that left him both outraged with himself and shaken by its swift encroachment into his life. Who was this waspish maid to be ever in the way, ever testing, ever trying his patience, ever thwarting him? He had no need for her to entangle his mind with her winsome looks and softly curving form. He was a man without a country, an outcast to the world, and before he could claim his worth and his place in society again, he had to set his affairs in order, or perhaps die trying. He had no time to be preoccupied with cravings that left him rutting after a reluctant and headstrong minx. Like a small, vindictive snipe, she would only turn on him again, rejecting any advance he would make.

The black stallion pranced in sudden apprehension, seeming to sense his master's vexation. Maxim touched his heels against the trembling flanks, and the animal leapt forward in an abrupt release of energy. The steed stretched out into an easy canter that swept away the troubling turmoil that roiled in Maxim's mind, and for a time they followed the level ground at the top of a bluff. The ridge lowered, and they passed through a widely spaced copse of evergreens. The stream, released from the steeply confining barrier of the cliffs, lent its overflow on the low far shore to form a marshy pond where tall, ice-bound rushes twinkled and glittered beneath the bright rays of the sun.