No Choice but Surrender (39 page)

He rose atop her, and her eyes widened.

"Wench, you're as greedy as I am." His laughter rumbled in his chest, but then he grew serious. Kissing her brow, kissing her eyelids, he murmured, "I'll never give you up, Brienne.
Never.
I'm a selfish man. Can you live with that?"

"I can" was her answer.

Taking him inside her, she let him make love to her with an intensity she never thought possible. His touch was explosive, his kiss devouring. Wrapped in the security of his love, she abandoned herself totally in their union, and finally with a gasp of sharp pleasure Avenel touched her soul.

Kissing his warm lips, Brienne pulled the linen over her breasts and snuggled deep into his embrace. Thoughts of tomorrow were banished from her mind, and she tried only to think of the man who
lay
by her side, the man she loved with her whole being. With the flicker of a candle, a pensive look came upon her face. In the quiet of the evening, she murmured, "How can one be so happy and yet so sad."

"What has you so sad, my love?" Avenel lay on his back, softly petting her hair.

"You've said all along how you needed me in order to exact revenge against my father."

"Mmm . . ." He turned thoughtful.

"So if I leave tomorrow, you'll not have—" He put a finger to her soft lips.

"I don't know if I could have ever really used you, wildflower. I thought it a glorious coincidence when I procured the house and found out that the earl's daughter was still in residence. Before I met you, I made many a cruel plan for you to be my means for revenge. But these plans were all dashed the very day I arrived."

"But how was this?"

"Well, you see"—he smiled lazily—"the simpering, self-indulgent maid I hoped to find here did not exist. Instead in her place was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She was fair and gracious. And even with her elbows sticking out her sleeves, she was proud. When she fought, it was not for her father or for her station; it was for herself. She was more than I could handle."

"If this was so, why did you force me to stay here?" Brienne's eyes looked serious.

"I knew you'd leave if I didn't force you to stay. And I think, in the back of my mind, I still had delusions of using you against your father. But as the days passed, I knew more and more that I'd never be able to do it."

"So why didn't you let me go then?"

"When you had that terrible dream the night of the ball, I found out how afraid you were of Oliver Morrow. I knew I had to protect you, even if it meant forcing you to stay here." He rubbed his jaw in agitation.
"My God!
You don't know how frantically I was looking for you when you left back in March. I searched every
dinbycb
in Wales, along with Tenby. I was sure you'd be there somewhere. It was a terrible blow not to find you. The thought of never seeing you again ripped my insides apart."

"But you hated me. You all but said so that morning in the state bedroom." Her whole body trembled, waiting for his answer.

"I was angry. So angry over Staples's death, I could hardly think straight. He was one of my dearest friends. His death was as hard to bear as Cumberland's would have been. Can you ever forgive me?" He turned her face to his and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Could we start anew? When you return to Osterley, after—"

"There will be no returning to Osterley. Please let me stay here with you." Brienne clutched him, trying to hold him dose.

"Shh . . .
my love."
He held her tightly. "It must be. It must be."

"I'm afraid. I'm afraid for you. You know I love you."

"Then stay with me tonight. Let me finally hold you without anything coming between us. Just for this night, let there be no past."

"Nor future."
She began to cry. He loved her now. He loved her! But was it all for naught?

"There will be a future, wildflower." Avenel put a warm hand to her belly. "There will be a future."

Nob watched as Orillion stalked a gray-furred animal near the stable block. From the breakfast room, he couldn't make out whether the dog's intended prey was a large rat or a field rabbit that had yet to darken its coat for spring. But both boy and dog were captivated by the hunt as the small bright-eyed creature popped its head out from the hole in the bricks and then as quickly disappeared through it, after perceiving its predator.

Laughing at the dog's antics as it pawed the hole and pricked up its white ears, the boy soon gazed with longing at the play, obviously lusting for the same activity. Rose and Cumberland had just left to go to their apartments at the other end of the house. Now alone, Nob began to wonder if he would be missed in the short time it would take to join Orillion. It had been a tedious voyage from America to England. There had been long stays in the ports of many tiny Caribbean islands where sugar was taken on board and dark African flesh unloaded. The stifling cross-Atlantic sail was a lot for an active young body to endure, so it was no wonder that young Nob soon found his way to the ground floor, vowing to make the most of his free time before he had to undertake another jour
ney. The Mistress Brienne would be busy with the travel preparations, and his disappearance, he rationalized, would not be noticed before he returned to the house. Besides, he
grimaced,
it would be another day of sitting in a carriage like the one that had brought him from Liverpool. He would have to get out now or never.

Pulling his worn three-cornered hat more closely over his head, he opened the door that led to the outside. It took less than a minute to reach the stables. Looking about, he saw the hole where Orillion had cornered the animal, but now, strangely enough, the small gray bunny that had been hiding in it was scampering off to the trees near the
Temple
of
Pan
.

"Orillion!
Here, boy!"
He gave a sharp piercing whistle, but there was no response in the silence of the morning. "Orillion!" he called again, and walked closer to the stable block. A Streak of red caught his eye near one door, and he said to it, "Have you caught a rat then, Orillion? I suppose the rabbit was too quick for you." He sauntered over to inspect the patch of blood.

With
a
thud his small body was jerked off the ground and pulled across the courtyard into a dark doorway. The breath was knocked from his lungs, but grappling with a meaty forearm, he still was able to beat wildly at the man in front of him. He was knocked back, however, and two blows to his head made stars appear before his eyes.

"Keep yer mouth shut, an' you'll not end up like the dog."

Nob saw the bloody, shaking form of Orillion lying near him in the threshold. Then, gasping and reeling, he was pushed into the stable. There he found the brute was not alone. He had three companions, only one of whom Nob recognized—the tall, gray-haired one. His eyes widened with shock, he gazed at the earl from the violent card game in
Maryland
.

"Where is Lady Brienne's room?" the earl questioned.

"I'll not tell you. You killed my father!" Nob shouted back bravely.

"Listen, lad"—the earl smiled and pointed to the stairs— "we're going to toss you out the window if you don't cooperate." He came closer, and Nob drew back. "Where is Lady Brienne's room? Is it the yellow one?"

"No!"

The earl wasted no time deliberating, and Nob paled. "Take him upstairs and drop him from the top. That'll get someone out here."

"No, wait!" Nob was being pushed up the stairs by one of the henchmen. His eyes grew accustomed to the dark of the stable's interior, and he looked down and saw Kelly bound and gagged in one corner, helplessly watching the proceedings. Swallowing his fear, Nob finally cried out, "Lady Brienne is staying in the yellow room. But you can't get her out here! Slane will keep her away from the likes of you!"

"Oh, he will, will he?" The gray-haired earl laughed viciously. "I think we have a way of coaxing her out." Turning to the burly henchman who held Nob, he said, "Take the boy upstairs and hang him from the northwest window!"

"No!" Nob began to protest, but before he could, a foul, urine-soaked rag, was stuffed in his mouth.

"Nob!"
Brienne poked her head into the boy's chamber next to her own. "Are you ready? We've got to leave now, or Avenel will be furious.
Nob?"
She bit her lower lip in puzzlement at the empty room. She walked into it and eyed the boy's things that lay in a neat bundle on the side of his bed. But the lad himself was nowhere to be seen. Picking up one of his gaiters, she noted its shabby appearance and promised herself that they would get some proper clothes for him in London. Putting the leather down, she started to walk out of the room, but a waving motion from the stable across the way caught her attention.

She walked to the window, and to her surprise she saw Nob waving to her from the uppermost floor of the stable. He was leaning out of one of the abandoned rooms, arching his arm unnaturally in the air. He hung precariously from the window frame. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the spire below him that jagged upward from the ancient gables of a lower level.

If this is what little boys do for pranks, Robert Staples, then I can see Avenel will be breaking in his hand on you!
she
thought snappily. Without giving a thought to Avenel's warnings of the previous evening, she quickly went down the stairs to the ground floor, grabbed a servant's cloak and pattens, and started for the stable.

"Brienne!
Brienne!"
She stopped walking. Now, that was odd. The boy should be in the window, but he was nowhere to be seen. Looking around, she spied his worn, three-cornered hat lying on the wet ground nearer the Temple than to the block.
"Brienne!
Brienne!"
Nob's voice called to her. It seemed forced and unusually high pitched. She couldn't believe he was actually taunting her, but growing annoyed, she made her way toward the stable.

If he thought he was hiding from her, she contemplated grimly, he was wrong. Nob would have to be disciplined for this silly and dangerous behavior, she fumed.

"Brienne!
Brienne!"
She looked up toward the voice. Expecting to see the boy's jaunty face undone with mischief, she pursed her cold lips to form a reprimand. But when her eyes met eyes that were not Nob's, Brienne stopped dead in her tracks. Comprehension and regret rushed through her.

Avenel paced the gallery; every sinew and muscle was tensed and ready. Occasionally he would stop near the fire but even its warmth couldn't alleviate the bone-deep chill he felt.

"Go see what is keeping Mistress Brienne!" he snapped at the nearest footman, one of the elderly gents who stood in the hall. After the footman withdrew to do his bidding, Avenel paced the gallery once more and moved ever so slowly to the window. He saw the misty, green fields through the panes, and their serenity beckoned him. He perched on the sill to wait for Brienne, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a fustian cloak move below him on the grounds. A curl of deep, unmistakable auburn hair lay outside the hood. He inhaled sharply when he recognized who it was.

"Damn! . . . What?" His anger at her foolishness quickly gave way to fear for her safety when he switched his gaze from Brienne to the man she looked at with such trepidation. A large, unfamiliar, burly man stood by the stable block waiting for her. The man smiled meanly at Brienne, and Avenel felt he could kill just for that smile alone. Swiftly he turned to claim his revenge—but then his body froze with shock.

"What a compliment to my taste! Why, the place looks the same!" A horribly familiar laugh rang out, and Avenel came face to face with his enemy.

"How did you get in here?" Avenel asked through clenched teeth.

"You see? I
am
the true earl! I know Osterley better than you!" Quentin Spense smiled. "Of course, it doesn't hurt that the grounds are so vast that it would take an army to patrol them effectively. Nor does it hurt to have one or two servants in the household who've never lost their loyalty to their true master."

"And who is that?" Avenel's eyes glittered vengefully.

"Naturally, I'm speaking about Fergie Mclnnis and his good wife, the cook. I thought of poisoning you one night at your own table, but that was too subtle.
And I so want to be present when you meet your end."

"Where are the McInnis now?"

"Why, I believe they're upstairs locking old Cumberland and Rose in their apartments! I'd like to keep our tête-à-tête as quiet as possible. No need to roust your army of footmen— that is, not until I've reclaimed your earldom."

"You'll never reclaim my earldom." Avenel crossed his powerful arms across his chest.

"Invulnerable, are we?" Spense stepped forward. "Well then, look out the window and see how invulnerable you actually are."

"I'll kill you if Brienne is touched," Avenel said with deadly calm. His eyes blazed with hatred for the man who stood before him.

"My daughter is quite lovely, is she not?" Quentin Spense walked to the sill. He watched with glee the drama being played out below the window. Brienne slipped on the soggy ground and failed miserably to regain her freedom from the man holding her. In the background of the stable block, Nob watched, trussed up like a pheasant ready for the spit, his hands tied painfully through his crotch.

"You're already carrion, Spense." Avenel's fury reached a fever pitch, and he lunged at the other man. Swiftly and brutally, however, a pistol butted him in the neck, and he was taken by surprise by two men who would have dwarfed Hans. His vision swirled from the blow; but shaking his head several times, he was able to come back and land several good blows on each of the henchmen.

It was almost flattering that the earl had refused to underestimate him, Avenel thought dimly. Still, the two giants were too much even for his powerful size. Eventually he was pulled into an elbow chair and forced to remain there as they tamed his rebellious movements with the pistol butt.

"Slane, Slane, what am I going to do with you? You've been a thorn in my side for years. And there's even been talk about my own daughter bedding down with you. Have you turned her head?" Spense laughed demonically.

"Stay away from her, Spense. If she is harmed—" For this retort Avenel was again butted in the head, but quickly the earl raised his hand to stop his henchmen.

"Never fear for her comfort, Slane! My man has instructions that she is not to be
touched."
Spense's comment met a bone-chilling silence. "You've developed quite a fondness for little Brienne, haven't you?" Again there was silence. "Yet you assume I haven't any fondness for her. But let me assure you, I do, I do! It's been a long time since I saw her last, and
I must say, she's breathtaking
. But then, I knew she would be. You should have seen her mother. My question to you is, have you enjoyed riding her, mate?" Spense bent his tall frame down near Avenel to hear the answer to his question. However, there was none. "Come now, you must have some comment to make, some criticism of her, some praise. Spit it out, Slane."

"I'm glad you're here," Avenel said with deadly calm, "so I can finally—"

"No! No! I don't want threats! I want opinions! Like how about this?" Spense went over to the long sofa and
slouched
his older but well-built frame into it. "Can you see me here, Slane? Is the view advantageous? Then all we need is to get Brienne to give a leg over, and off we'll go, eh?"

A deep furious growl escaped from Avenel's lips, and soon he was out of his seat. The other men effectively beat him back down once again, but this took some time, and afterward Quentin Spense looked a bit more nervous than before.

"She must be your Achilles' heel."

"She has no part in this. Tell your man in the stable to let her go."

"By association, she has everything to do with this, Slane. What would you give me to leave her alone, eh?"

"I would give you everything I have to leave her out of this. But then, there are no assurances, are there?"

"You're an intelligent one." Spense's lips curled into an evil smile. "And it's unfortunate that the only way to deal with you is to finish the work left undone twenty years earlier." He pulled out a polished steel blade that caught the dancing light from the fireplace. He walked up to Avenel, and with lightning speed, he flicked the tip at Avenel's cheek, making a small nick that nonetheless bled profusely.

Barely flinching from the pain, Avenel looked steadfastly into Spense's face; his hatred was tangible enough to make Spense step back.

"Watch him," Spense said to one of the brutes. Turning to Avenel, he said, "I'm going to get your lover, mate. When I've broken her in enough to bring her back here, you can prepare yourself for a show. Then you can prepare yourself for the grave." He laughed and accepted his cloak from one of his minions. Avenel watched him and his burly
helper leave
the gallery; each stepped over the unconscious old footman who was sprawled in the marble hall.