He gaped at her while holding himself rigidly in control. “But the annulment—”
“The baron chose me for my pedigree. No doubt he chose his sires according to the same criteria. If I give myself to you, if there is a chance I might be with child, your child, he will not want me.”
Treynor’s eyes narrowed. “But what if he does?”
“We both know how slim my chance is of getting an annulment, even with my virginity intact.”
“I will not let him hurt you.”
“There is nothing you can do,” she whispered.
He lifted a hand to touch her cheek. “Go back to your own room, where you are safe.”
“Treynor.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You cannot talk me out of it. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? At least I will have this night.”
“I cannot let you tempt me. What kind of man would I be—”
“Just a man,” she said, kissing the indentation above his collarbone.
His muscles went taut. She thought he’d set her from him again, but he didn’t move. “Jeannette—”
“Now, Treynor, take me now.”
Something akin to a growl sounded low in his throat. In one quick movement, he crushed her to him. His lips moved over her cheek, then paused to mold her mouth to his.
She didn’t refuse when his fingers hungrily worked the laces of the dress he had bought her earlier. He stood back to pull her bodice and shift down, baring her to the waist. Then his head descended, and he took one nipple and then the other into his mouth.
“You are beautiful, Jeannette. God, how I want you. I have wanted you since that first night.”
Jeannette thought she’d melt in his hands. He trailed kisses up her throat, causing her to drop her head back as she abandoned herself to his caress. She had never felt anything so vital as his lips moving over her skin or his heart beating beneath her hands.
“How I wish we had forever,” he whispered hoarsely.
Closing her eyes, Jeannette allowed herself to believe in forever as he placed one arm under her knees, swung her up, and carried her to his bed.
“Your arm is hurt. You will start it bleeding again,” she protested, only half-mindful of such practicalities.
He ignored her efforts to make him put her down. “I feel nothing but desire.”
As Jeannette slid down Treynor’s body, she felt the hardness that attested to his words. A small tremor of fear passed through her as she wondered what she had started and where it would end. But it no longer mattered. She could sooner turn the tide or deny the moon than leave Treynor at this moment.
Eager now that the decision had been made, Jeannette reached for the buttons of his breeches. He watched her as she began to undo each one—then the door seemed to explode.
Jeannette screamed and covered herself as best she could, and Treynor spun to protect her from whatever was coming. But it was too late. The Baron St. Ives stood in the hall between two burly giants. Ralston Moore followed in their wake.
“How dare you!” he thundered, entering the room. “Get away from my wife!”
Treynor tossed a blanket over Jeannette and moved to stand in front of her without bothering to fasten the top buttons of his breeches. “She plans to annul your marriage. You have no claim upon her.”
St. Ives’s eyes nearly bulged from his head. “What are you talking about? I own her! She is as much mine as Hawthorne House or any of my other properties. I will have you thrown into prison if you dare stand in my way.”
On the verge of tears, Jeannette did her best to make herself decent.
“Then I will be forced to protect her any way I can.” The rough edge to Treynor’s voice indicated his words were no bluff, but she feared there was little he could do. He was outnumbered four to one—and injured on top of that.
“I will not have them hurt you, Trey. I will go.” Finished lacing up her dress, she threw off the blanket, and moved toward St. Ives, even though the ugly glint in his eyes frightened her more than the presence of his hired help.
Ralston Moore stayed in the background, as if reluctant to become involved. But Jeannette had no doubt where his loyalties lay.
She stopped to look once more at Treynor. “We can appeal to Lord Darby in the morning and—”
“By then it will be too late and you know it.” Treynor caught her by the wrist and pulled her with him toward his pistol and sword, which rested on the bureau.
“Make one more move toward that, an’ I’ll drop ye where ye stand.” One of the hired brutes pointed a gun at Treynor’s chest.
“Whatever he is paying you fellows isn’t enough,” Treynor said.
“You are a fool!” St. Ives snapped.
“A gambling fool, perhaps. I am willing to wager I can kill you before they get me. Are you willing to bet against me?”
The tough spoke again. “An’ ye with a wounded arm. I’d like ter see that.”
“Wait.” Making a soothing gesture, Moore spoke for the first time. “This is getting out of hand, and there are …legal implications. Perhaps we can arrange a meeting in the morning. It is late after all, my lord—”
“Silence! I will wait no longer.” St. Ives studied Treynor as though trying to gauge just how determined he was. “Name your price,” he said at last. “A good toss is only worth so much. You could buy a hundred whores for what I am willing to pay to have Jeannette back.”
“I have no interest in your dirty bargain,” Treynor responded. “Like your man said, come back in the morning, preferably after we have had a chance to meet with the Earl of Darby and a man of the cloth who knows something about how to achieve an annulment.”
“You are an insolent dog. I have heard enough.” St. Ives snapped his fingers.
There was the click of a trigger, then a deafening roar.
Jeannette screamed in horror, fearing the worst as a ball went through the window, shattering one of its diamond-shaped panes.
Shoving her to the floor, Treynor whirled around for his gun. Another boom rent the air as the lieutenant shot the man coming toward him.
The brute collapsed, howling, clutching at the blood spurting from his thigh.
Treynor dropped his pistol and wielded his sword instead, forcing the other brawny hireling and the baron to step back. “That could just as easily have been you,” he told St. Ives. “Now get out.”
The uninjured man the baron had brought took one look at the shiny steel of Treynor’s blade and ventured forth just long enough to help his wounded comrade to stand. “I only wanted enough coin for a drink or two,” he complained, lugging his groaning burden toward the door. “I’m not willin’ ter ‘ave me arse carved up for it, nor me brother’s neither, be ye baron or the bleedin’ King ‘imself!”
Ralston Moore looked ready to flee, too. He glanced after the men as they staggered off. Then his eyes widened, and he tapped the baron’s shoulder to draw his attention to something in the hall.
Irritated by the distraction, Lord St. Ives scowled in the direction indicated. But when he turned back, his weathered face wore a glacial smile. “Ah. We shall have that audience with Lord Darby a little sooner than we anticipated,” he said and stepped aside so the earl and Jeannette’s parents could enter.
“Jeannette!” Rose Marie started across the room, arms outstretched to enfold her daughter. But then she saw Treynor and stopped dead. Red suffused her cheeks as she eyed his near-naked state and Jeannette’s disheveled hair and gown. “
Mon Dieu!
We have been so worried about you, ma petite. But there must be some mistake. Tell me this is not what it appears.”
Jeannette’s mother turned to her husband, who looked as stunned as she did.
“You see, my lord?” The baron’s voice turned shrill as he addressed Darby. “This is why your pretty cousin fled my house. And this is how she has thanked you for your efforts on her behalf, by accepting a young, virile man in her bed.”
The earl’s jaw sagged as he looked from Jeannette to Treynor. “She did not strike me as …I mean, you have me at quite a disadvantage, sir. I apologize profusely, of course. And from this moment, I will support whatever is required to help you obtain an annulment.”
The baron drew himself up straighter. “I dare say you have been too forgiving in your opinions of the chit, but I remain enamored of her, even after this. If she will but return with me this night to Hawthorne House—”
“The baron is in error,” Treynor interrupted. “Forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but Jeannette’s maidenhead is intact. And she did not run away with me.”
Rose Marie’s eyelids fluttered; Jeannette thought she might faint. “Who is this man?” Her gaze latched onto the jacket of Treynor’s uniform, slung over one of the bedposts. “A navy rat? Jacques, tell me our daughter is not such a fool as that!”
Jeannette’s father struggled for a moment to find the right words. “
C’est impossible!
How would she have met him? And where?”
“I met him only after I left Hawthorne House,” Jeannette said. “Did Henri not tell you what he heard?”
“Indeed he did.” The count reached out to calm his flustered wife. “I can understand that you were frightened,
ma petite
, but the outlandish tales Henri carried to you are completely false. We are convinced of that.”
“Just as your parents are in agreement with Lord Darby that you should honor your vows and return to Hawthorne House with me,” St. Ives added.
“Indeed.” The earl cleared his throat. “It is most kind of Lord St. Ives to take you back, my girl, and that he means to …to say nothing of this unfortunate event is gallant beyond measure. Your father and I have spoken to the man Henri overheard that night. Mr. Manville assures me that your beauty, combined with too much drink, prompted him toward such nonsense.”
Jeannette separated herself from the others. Considering all that had occurred, Darby would never believe in her innocence. And her parents would, very possibly, fear the damage to her reputation enough to turn a deaf ear to her pleas. What had she done?
Treynor’s hand closed over her own, somehow lending her the strength she lacked.
“No, Lord Darby,” she said. “My brother told the truth. I know it in my soul. I can still remember the way those men looked at me.” She shuddered, glaring at St. Ives from her position halfway behind Treynor. “Trust me, I beg you. I must obtain an annulment—”
“I am afraid I cannot ignore what I have seen with my own eyes,” Darby said. “How could I support an annulment? It would take months, possibly years. And the scandal would be all over London! We could never get you another husband—”
“But I won’t go back. Nothing anyone says will convince me.
Mon père
, please!”
“I know not what to do,” her father admitted. “Right now I am just glad to have you back safe.”
Feeling some hope, she turned her attention his way. “How did you find me, Papa?”
“Mr. Moore sent us word not more than an hour ago.”
St. Ives’s solicitor squirmed near the door. “It was only right to relieve their anxiety as soon as possible,” he explained when the baron sent him a dammning look.
Maybe St. Ives was upset with him, but Jeannette was eternally grateful. “Maman, Papa, this is Lieutenant Crawford Treynor, of His Majesty’s frigate the
Tempest
. I do not know how I would have survived the past few weeks without him.”
Treynor bowed. “I am sorry we meet under such unfortunate circumstances.”
“What have you done to my daughter?” Rose Marie asked. “She is ruined.” Tears ran down her cheeks, but she wiped them away. “You are no one. You have nothing to offer her.”
Jeannette’s heart gave a painful squeeze. She was about to defend him when her father stepped forward.
“Forgive my wife. She is upset and does not mean what she says,” he said. “We know not what role you have played, Lieutenant Treynor, but if you have indeed been our daughter’s champion, we owe you a great debt.” His eyes lingered on the rumpled bed before settling again on Treynor’s face. “We cannot undo what has been done. But I beg you to let us take Jeannette away from this place without further incident. My wife has been through enough already.”
“Indeed, sir.” Treynor tilted his head to indicate the red-faced baron. “I will make no move to stop you, as long as you and Lord Darby promise me one thing.”
Her father’s surprise that he would make any stipulation was evident. “And that is?”
“That you will not send her back to Hawthorne House under any circumstances.”
“How dare you involve yourself—” Lord Darby began, but the baron interrupted.
“Jeannette is my wife!” he thundered. “No matter what liberties you have taken with her body, she bears my name. I will not be denied that which is mine!”
“You will not practice your debauchery on her,” Treynor responded, his voice low. “Not as long as I am here to stop you.”
“I assure you that can be remedied.” The baron bowed stiffly. “I extend a challenge to you, sir. A duel between gentlemen, although you are no gentleman. Three days hence, just beyond the city by a quarter mile, at Lambsdell. There’s an old beech tree there that is unmistakable. Meet me at dawn, and bring your second.”
Treynor gaped at him. “My lord, I am half your age and you have just seen me wield both pistol and sword. Though you may choose your weapon, you have little chance of besting me.”
“I choose pistols. Perhaps your confidence will be your undoing. I have no intention of being beaten by anyone. You least of all.” He appealed to the earl. “Do you support me in this, Lord Darby?”
Ill at ease, Darby shifted. “Can we not settle this without violence?”
“This is the quickest way to bring the situation to a decisive end,” the baron insisted.
Darby fidgeted, obviously uncomfortable with the idea, but then he sighed. “I am also anxious for a resolution, so allow me to state the terms. Should Lord St. Ives come out the victor, Jeannette will go back with him to Hawthorne House. Should Lieutenant Treynor prevail and Lord St. Ives survive, he will not seek to prevent the annulment. Do you both agree?”
They each nodded assent.
“May I have your word as gentlemen that you will fight fairly and fulfill your end of the bargain?”
Treynor bowed. “As you wish, my lord.”