She
awoke with a start some hours later. What awakened her she didn't know, but
from the sounds permeating the room it was obvious that Ceci's bail was well
underway, and she knew the hour must be late. Silently, like a cat, she
stretched and blinked at the glowing embers
on
the
hearth. For a moment she
sat thus, still not quite awake. Then, starting to rise, she was held
motionless by the faint sound of the rustle of paper.
Cautiously,
she peered around the end of the couch and discovered, much to her surprise, an
unknown man seated at the desk, a candle flickering at his elbow, his dark head
bent as he read the letter in his hands, and he was unaware of Catherine's keen
scrutiny.
She
couldn't see his features clearly, but from his clothes she supposed he must be
one of the guests, for he was fashionably attired in a green velvet jacket with
an elabo
rately embroidered, yellow silk waistcoat.
Suddenly, as if sensing
someone
watching him, he glanced up, the light from the candles falling full on his
face, and Catherine was gripped by a strange, painful giddiness as she stared
at the hard, dark face.
It was an intensely
masculine face with a bold nose that seemed to flare at the nostrils, as if he
scented her hiding there; and she felt a queer, choking sensation as his eyes,
glittering greenly in the candlelight, pierced the room, seeking the source of
his slight uneasiness. Frozen, like some small, frightened animal hiding from a
stalking panther, Catherine was unable to tear her gaze away until he gave a
careless shrug of his broad shoulders and bent his dark head once more.
Slowly, she released her
pent-up breath in a shuddering sigh and felt a blind, unreasoning panic. Driven
by the knowledge that she must escape this man, she crept quickly to the door.
Exactly why she was impelled to flee his disturbing presence, she didn't know;
she only knew this strange man aroused a primitive and nameless fear.
Reaching the door, her hand
on the handle, she was momentarily startled when a drawling, accented voice
called out behind her,
"Arretez!
Stop!"
Compelled to look-back, she
saw he was rising from behind the desk, his eyes meeting her wide, violet ones
with a shock she felt in her bones. Suddenly, she wasn't frightened any longer,
just angry at her own silly emotions, and glaring at him she wrinkled her
straight little nose and impudently stuck out her tongue! Then, has shout of
laughter ringing in her ears, she bolted from the room and fled up the stairs
as if all the demons in hell were after her
..
Like a
shy
child before strangers, she ran to her mother's room, hating herself for giving
in to almost sheer panic. Standing breathlessly outside the door, she waited a
moment, forcing her thudding heart to calm itself. When she felt she was once
more in command of herself, she knocked softly and upon hearing Rachael asking
who it was, she opened the door and entered the room.
"Why, Catherine!"
Rachael cried, surprised. "What are you still doing up, my love? It is
very late, you know."
Smiling, Catherine dropped
a light kiss on her cheek * and. replied, "Actually, I've been sleeping. I
fell asleep in
the library and just now woke up. Is there anything
I can do for you before I go to bed?"
"No, my love.
I feel much better, and
knowing we are leaving in the morning is even more restoring to my spirits. I
can hardly wait to return home."
Catherine
agreed. If all went well and if they had an early start as planned, this time
tomorrow night they would be safe at Hunter's Hill. Safe was an odd word to
use, but just now that Catherine it fitted perfectly.
They
conversed for a few minutes longer, and then Catherine bid her mother a fond
good night and walked to her room a few doors down the hall. It was an
attractive room, decorated in much the same style and color as her mother's, but
Catherine took little notice of her surroundings as she prepared for bed.
She
had dispensed with the services of her maid for the hasty trip to London, and
quickly she stripped off her lavender dress and undergarments and slid naked
between the linen sheets, enjoying the almost sinful pleasure of their
smoothness against her bare skin. A small giggle escaped her as she thought of
the shocking and disapproving expression her mother's face would wear if she
knew. Then, suddenly, the lightheartedness left her, and her small cat-shaped
face wore an anxious expression as a dark," arrogant countenance with
glittering green eyes flashed into her mind.
She
tried to forget the young man in the library, but it was as if his face and
form were seared into her brain. Even now, a thrill of fright and something
else, as yet unnamed, raced through her veins as she recalled his tall,
broad-shouldered body, the careless elegance of his dress and the aura of
recklessness, of leashed male passion, that had seemed to reach out and touch
her, as she had crouched frozen, staring at his face.
Restlessly
she tossed in the bed, bedeviled by odd thoughts and alien emotions that
disturbed and infuriated her. Angrily she punched down the unoffending pillow
and told herself vehemently that she was acting like a silly ninnyhammer,
mooning over a man she would probably never see again. And. she added viciously
to herself, he was more than likely a conceited, mincing fop, who would bore
her to death if she did meet him!
But
nothing, not even harsh thoughts, would banish him from her memory. With a
small moan of defeat, she
dwelt upon their brief
meeting, alarming herself just before falling asleep by dreamily wondering
what it would be like to have his hard mouth pressed sweetly against hers.
Jason Beauvais de Ulloa Savage, laughing to himself,
sank slowly back in his chair, his green eyes shining with amusement. What a
saucy little minx! She had given him a start when he had looked up and seen her
creeping towards the door, and at his command to stop, he had certainly not
expected the young lady to stick out her tongue! He frowned suddenly, his
recollection of her unclear. He knew she wasn't a servant, for her gown had
been stylish, yet she hadn't been dressed for the ball. Elizabeth's younger
sisters were still in the nursery, so who the devil was the little creature
with those angry eyes? He gave her some seconds more thought, then regretfully
dismissed her, and turned his attention to Barrymore's execrable scrawl.
Jas,
When are you
coming down? The hunting is poor, and Tom and I are about to drive one another
mad! Can you not move up your travel arrangements? I know you are to escort
Amanda and her grandmother down for Brownleighs, but can't you convince them to
come a few days earlier?
Enough of that.
Now to the real purpose of this letter.
I have found
near here the horses you are looking for! They are owned by a band of gypsies
camped on the estate of the dowager countess of Mount (the fair Elizabeth's
aunt). Perhaps Tom can arrange an introduction, although I think it best if the
gypsies are approached directly. In any event, the horses are most superior,
just perfect for your plans of resale in New Orleans. As everyone knows
that gypsies
are never very long in one place, I expect it
would be wise if you came as soon as possible.
I am
dispatching this letter with my most persistent man, with instructions to find
you at once! With luck he will interrupt an indiscretion.
Yours faithfully,
Frederick Barrymore
Jason had been interrupted
in the middle of a dance and given the letter. At his request the earl had
shown him to the library, where in relative quiet he had deciphered the
message. As he read the contents, his amusement grew, for he had been
expecting the direst news. Leave it to Freddie to treat the discovery of
additional horseflesh as a major event, he thought wryly.
Smiling to himself, Jason
threw the note on the coals and thoughtfully decided that some days in the
country would not be unpleasant. Accustomed to an active, vigorous life,
London had begun to bore him, especially the well-meaning but persistent
attempts of several matrons to introduce him to fashionable families with
marriageable young ladies.
Distracted by a slight
sound, he turned quickly and was surprised at the disappointment he felt when
he saw Elizabeth Markham entering the room and not the engaging creature who
had disturbed him earlier.
Smiling invitingly, her
hips gracefully swaying, Elizabeth came to Jason's side. An appreciative glint
in his eyes, he surveyed her bronze-green satin ball gown that was cut so
shockingly low that it revealed more of her full, firm breasts than it
concealed. She was certainly displaying her wares!
The scent of her perfume
drifted pleasantly to his nostrils, and her voice was soft as she said,
"So this is where you have vanished to! My father said you received an
urgent message and wished to be private. Nothing serious, I hope?"
"No. But if I'd known
an urgent message would bring you to my side, I would have arranged to receive
one
ages
ago."
Playfully, she slapped his
wrist with her small fan. "La! What an accomplished flirt you are. I was
merely concerned that you might have received bad news." She glanced up
at Mm, her wide brown eyes clearly curious, but he ignored the unspoken
question in their depths and lazily pulled her next to Mm, lightly brushing her
soft lips with his. "Was it only concern that brought you here?"
"Not exactly,"
she admitted coyly, dropping her eyes demurely.
The sensuous curve of his
mouth more pronounced, he pulled her slowly against his warm body, his lips
taking her, in a demanding kiss that left no doubt of his growing desire.
Elizabeth pressed closer, enjoying the way he explored her lips—her tongue
darting into his mouth, her body on fire for more than just kisses. Yet, she
slipped casually from his arms when he murmured against her mouth, "Will
you meet me after the ball, at a place where we can be private?"
Fluttering her fan she
laughed, "My, sir, you've a bold way about you, but I'm afraid you've
mistaken my character. It wouldn't be proper for me to meet you alone."
Then unable to help herself and not wishing to discourage him too harshly, she
added slyly, "I must be careful of my reputation. London is filled with
scandalmongers, and someone might see us."
His smile tightening, one
black brow raised derisively, he asked curtly, "What do you suggest?"
Uncertainly, she nibbled
her bottom lip, thrown into a quandary by his abrupt question and by a longing
to be in his arms. Living as she did almost at Clive's mercy, she was desperate
to make an advantageous match. It would be one way out of her problems. And
Jason Savage was absolutely perfect for what she wanted.
Unfortunately, marriage was
not
what Mr. Savage had in mind, and with one disastrous alliance behind her, she
couldn't afford to have an open affair with the gentleman from Louisiana; yet,
if she became his mistress, intuitively she knew he would be a generous lover,
bestowing upon her expensive gifts and trinkets that later could be converted
into lovely gold coin. And besides, becoming his mistress could even give her a
better chance at becoming Mrs. Savage—it wouldn't be the first time a man had
been caught by his mistress. Silken bedsheets had led to the altar more than
once. And with this in mind, she pouted prettily up at Mm and sighed,
"You're so impatient. Let me think."
Guessing at the mercenary
thoughts running though her
head, Jason was unable to
control the twitch of his lips, and he bowed mockingly
,-
saying, "Madame, you enchant me. I shall wait eagerly for your message.
And," he added smoothly, "since you're so concerned with your
reputation, I think it best if we weren't discovered here, alone."
But
perversely, Elizabeth was not ready to break the tête-à-tête, and provocatively
she said, "Are you always so cautious? If you are, it's no wonder you're
welcomed by Mr. King and the duke of Roxbury. Being so very- prudent
themselves, they must trust you a great deal to be as familiar with you as they
are. You certainly seem to spend a lot of time with them."
At
the mention of King and his uncle, Jason's eyes narrowed with instant
suspicion. His uncle had warned him about Elizabeth's connection with Clive
Pendleton, but he hadn't really taken it as seriously as he should have. And it
appeared that Elizabeth was indeed probing for information.
Jason's
face gave no hint of his thoughts, but His eyes were hard as he said bluntly,
"How do you know how familiar I am with them? Do you have little spies
that watch me?"
Elizabeth's
arch smile faded abruptly, and she answered sharply, "Don't be silly! I
was only teasing. And if you're going to take me up like that on everything I
say, I don't think I shall talk to you any more this evening." With a
toss of her chestnut curls, she started to walk regally from the room. Jason,
an unrepentant grin on his face, turned her around and unhesitatingly pulled
her into his arms.
"I'm
sorry that I was short with you," he said slowly, "but I have no
desire to exchange gossip. You're much too beautiful for us to waste our time
talking. Stay here, with me, and I'll show you what I mean."
Elizabeth
felt all her anger draining away at his touch, and as she gazed up into his
dark face, a reckless feeling invaded her body. Why not stay?
Reading
the answer in her eyes, Jason gave her no chance to speak, but kissed her long
and thoroughly. Feeling her response as she melted against him, he released
her lips briefly and whispered into her ear, "If we lock the door, no one
will disturb us."
It
was tempting, too tempting, Elizabeth thought with Jason's body so close to
hers. She looked at the waning
fire
on the hearth and took in
the quiet intimacy of the room. No one would disturb them, for no one except
her father knew where they were, and the earl, 'taken up with entertaining his
guests, would have long since forgotten.
Giving her little time to
think more on it, Jason took two strides to the door and turned the key in the
lock. His eyes dark with desire, he walked back to her, and Elizabeth knew she
was going to let him make love to her —she couldn't help it, and the
possibility of discovery made it even more exciting.
Gently Jason laid her on
the couch, his mouth warm against her neck, and she went dizzy with desire when
his hand slid up under her gown to caress her thigh. She made a halfhearted
attempt to stop him, but he only pushed aside her hands and kissed her deeply,
the weight of his hard body keeping her a willing prisoner beneath him.
Fire seemed to scald
through her veins as 'his searching lips traveled down to her bosom, and she
wished that they dared to remove their clothing—she wanted Jason naked next to
her. Yet there was something so very depraved, she decided hazily, about
making love with all their clothes on.
Jason loosened her breasts
from the low-cut gown, his hand warm as his thumb brushed a nipple, his mouth
hard and demanding on hers. With his other hand, he pushed up the satin gown,
and his searching fingers found the softness between her thighs. Elizabeth
couldn't help her moan of sheer animal pleasure as he fondled, and explored
her,
She
was so hungry for him, she thought she would
scream if he didn't take her soon. Her whole body was on fire for him, and she
wanted him like she had never wanted another man. Her hands clutched hit,
velvet jacket, and she muttered crossly, "Take it off." But Jason
only murmured thickly against her mouth, "Next time. And it's not my
jacket
that I need to be rid of."
He shifted his weight
slightly and with a quick motion freed himself from the black satin breeches.
The next instant, Elizabeth felt him slide deep within her outspread legs, and
hungrily she pushed up against him. Feeling him filling her, his very size and
hardness a caress in itself, she cried softly, "Oh, God! Jason, take
me!"
His mouth came down on hers
with almost brutal force, and his hands cupped her buttocks tightly as he
thrust
himself deeper and harder into her again and again until her
whole body shook with the force of their passion. Some minutes later, replete
and full, she lay back against the cushions knowing that she had never been so
completely satisfied in her entire life. Then drifting back to sanity, she
became aware of what had actually happened and where they were, and she sat up
with a jerk.
"Oh,
I don't know what you must think of me!" Elizabeth began, but Jason,
calmly arranging his breeches, shot her a quizzical look and then leaned over
and hushed her with a gentle kiss. Deftly helping her straighten her gown, he
said, "I think that you are a lovely woman, and I hope that you will allow
me to see even more of you than I have."
It
wasn't precisely what she wanted to hear, but it left her with hope. At least
he wanted to see her again.
They
agreed to enter the ballroom separately, and it was Jason who entered first,
giving Elizabeth a chance to escape to her room to remove any signs of their
recent meeting.
He
paused at the entrance to the ballroom, surveying the scene, and when he
noticed Amanda Harris seated next to her grandmother, he walked quickly over to
their side. Augusta Dudley, the dowager duchess of Avon, was white-haired, had
lively black eyes, and was approaching seventy. She was a formidable old woman,
and Jason did not relish the task of asking her to move up their date of
departure for Brownleigh's house party. But it was worth a chance, and so
without too much polite conversation, he came immediately out with it.
Surprisingly, Augusta agreed instantly to the change in plans. London was still
a bit thin of company, and she, quite frankly, was bored.
"Shall
we make it a week from tonight, then?" she inquired.
Jason
bowed and replied, "That will be fine with me. I shall send some of my
horses ahead tomorrow and will make all other arrangements for our traveling.
And now, with that out of the way—
Amanda,
may I have
this dance?"
Blushing,
her brown eyes hidden beneath her lashes, Amanda very prettily accepted his
offer. She bore little resemblance to her brother other than being rather short
and having red hair. Only in Amanda, the hair was a rich, vibrant deep red, and
petite better described her
than short. She was an enchanting little lady, and
Jason had some affection for her—the affection of a big brother for a small
sister. She was already on the friendliest terms with him, and so as they danced
she eagerly prattled on about the proposed trip to Brownleigh's. Near the end
of their dance, remembering his angry-eyed intruder, Jason asked curiously,
"Is there a young lady about your age staying with Elizabeth?"