Authors: Heart of the Storm
Rexanne Becnel (22 page)
Cyprian sighed. Time to put his plan into motion. “I’ll write another letter to Haberton. Something about his son working as a cabin boy—perhaps on a slave ship. Or I could say he’s been sold to a press gang.”
“But I heard he is crippled. Would his father believe you?”
“He’s no longer crippled—only a little lame. Anyway, it hardly matters. His father will run in circles searching for him, and that’s all that counts.”
“What of the girl?”
Cyprian never did answer that. He wrote a note which the man assured him would be delivered within two days
time to Lloyd Haberton’s primary residence in London. Then the man left and Cyprian was alone with his grim thoughts.
time to Lloyd Haberton’s primary residence in London. Then the man left and Cyprian was alone with his grim thoughts.
The game was on. But his joy in it was not nearly so satisfying as he’d expected. Yes, he had Lloyd Haberton where he wanted him, frantic and mad with worry. But Cyprian couldn’t savor his triumph, for his thoughts centered more around Eliza than they did his bastard father.
He’d not been able to gauge her mood today. While they’d been making love in the steaming tub he’d had no such problems, for when she gave herself to him physically, she held nothing back at all. The prim English miss disappeared and an exquisitely passionate wanton took her place. But afterwards … afterwards her resistance had been frustrating.
She still had expectations of returning to her family—and to her fiance. Christ, but he’d gladly kill the bastard! Anything to drive him out of her thoughts. But that would only alienate her further.
Short of doing that, his only other option seemed to be to get her with child. Though he’d rather have her all to himself for a while, he feared that pregnancy was the only sure route to possessing her fully. Her family would abandon her if she were pregnant and she’d have only him to turn to. She’d have to marry him if she were pregnant though she’d made it clear today she feared the very idea of pregnancy.
He stared down into his empty glass. He was hardly the sort of man she’d ever envisioned marrying, but though that rankled, he was certain he could change her mind. She didn’t want to become pregnant. She didn’t want to share his room. She hadn’t wanted him to join her in the tub either. But he had, and in the end, once she’d relented, her innately passionate nature had taken over from that cautious side of her. Once she was
aroused by his lovemaking, she threw all that caution to the winds.
aroused by his lovemaking, she threw all that caution to the winds.
He poured himself another glass of rum as he sat alone in his office. It would be his self-imposed task to keep the difficult Miss Thoroughgood thoroughly aroused and thoroughly sated. He would make love to her morning, noon, and night, no matter her feebly worded objections. He would get her with child and then he would get her before the nearest priest or vicar or even a shaman if she so chose.
Her objections to him would disappear in the face of the impending birth of their child, for she would not be able to envision marriage to her fiance then, and her family would have turned away from her in shame. He was sure that Eliza would do the proper thing and marry him, if only for the sake of their child.
Their child.
For the first time since he’d left her alone in his room, Cyprian felt an easing of the tension inside him. Their child. The very thought of them creating a child together brought an unexpectedly satisfying feeling to his chest. Their child.
Cyprian smiled and placed the stopper on the decanter. Whether it was a son or daughter, he had no doubt at all that Eliza would make a wonderful mother. And he vowed to be the sort of father he had always wished for. Unlike Lloyd Haberton, he would be there whenever his child needed him. He would take the child everywhere and answer all his questions—or hers. He and Eliza together would create the perfect home for their child. For their
children
, he amended, unaware that he’d begun to smile.
children
, he amended, unaware that he’d begun to smile.
With that thought buoying him up, he went in search of Eliza.
T
he room she found was not nearly as large as Cyprian’s chamber. But it was spotlessly clean and the bed was soft. And it had a lock on the inside of the door.
he room she found was not nearly as large as Cyprian’s chamber. But it was spotlessly clean and the bed was soft. And it had a lock on the inside of the door.
Eliza lay on the bed and stared at the door through the nighttime gloom. Would he come looking for her? But she knew the answer to that. He would, and with a vengeance. It was for that reason, hoping to protect Aubrey from the unpleasant scene which surely must result, that she’d decided not to retreat to Aubrey’s room. She’d thought of asking Ana and Xavier for help, but she’d ruled that out as well. It wasn’t fair of her to pit them against their employer. Besides, they had their own reunion to celebrate. As for Oliver …
She rolled onto her side and determinedly closed her eyes. Cyprian was suspicious enough of Oliver. No need to fan that particular fire any hotter. So she’d found this empty room in a back corner of the house all on her own. She fully intended to make it hers so long as she remained in Cyprian’s house, but at the same time, she also knew she must find a way to leave. The very thought filled her with intense sorrow, but she knew that’s how it had to be.
A clock somewhere in the house chimed the hour.
Then, before the final tone could sound, she heard him. As if mimicking the rhythmic tolls of the tall clock, doors slammed, one by one, as he made his way down the hall.
Then, before the final tone could sound, she heard him. As if mimicking the rhythmic tolls of the tall clock, doors slammed, one by one, as he made his way down the hall.
“Eliza!” Slam.
“Damnit, woman!” Another slam.
Eliza jerked upright and folded her legs beneath her as she backed up against the high headboard of the bed. He was coming and her heart raced in fear—or was it more accurately termed anticipation?
“No,” she muttered. He would have to understand that what he expected of her was impossible. She simply could not flaunt this intimate relationship before everyone’s eyes. He’d made it clear enough that he would only marry her if she should accidentally become pregnant—
Another slam, and she winced. Her father would never allow her to break her betrothal anyway, especially not to marry someone so patently unsuitable as Cyprian Dare would appear to be. But would her father feel differently if she
did
become pregnant? Would he demand that she accept Cyprian’s unenthusiastic offer of marriage?
did
become pregnant? Would he demand that she accept Cyprian’s unenthusiastic offer of marriage?
Somehow marrying Cyprian under such circumstances seemed even worse than marrying Michael. Those were not the conditions under which she wished to keep Cyprian in her life.
Suddenly the door shook and Eliza gasped. But the sturdy lock held against Cyprian’s fury.
“Unlock this door, Eliza. Now.”
She swallowed hard and swiftly weighed her options. She couldn’t avoid him forever. But then she wasn’t trying to. She was just trying to avoid him for the night.
The door rattled again. “Eliza.” When she didn’t respond right away he hit the stout oak panel and she jumped. “Damnit! I know you’re in there!”
“Go away,” she demanded, though her voice was quite without the force it should have had.
“Unlock this door, Eliza. Unlock it now.”
“I want to be alone.”
There was a pause. “Just for tonight?”
She clutched a pillow to her chest as she considered her reply. “I won’t share a bedchamber with you, Cyprian. It’s not right and I won’t do it.”
In the silence that followed that statement, she thought she might have heard him sigh.
“Eliza. I don’t want to have this conversation through the door. Let me in. Please,” he added in a more conciliatory tone.
All things considered, Eliza deemed it best to comply. He would not relent. She was certain of that. And if she angered him too much, he might go so far as to break the door down. Then there would be no reasoning with him at all.
“Eliza!”
“All right! All right, Cyprian. I’ll open it,” she declared. She hesitated before the door. “But only to talk.”
Her hand trembled as she slid the iron bolt back. Her heart pounded like angry waves against a rocky shore, but she didn’t want to examine just why. They would discuss this matter sensibly and somehow she would make him understand how untenable a position he was trying to force on her. He would listen to her this time and he would have to admit that she was right.
No sooner was the bolt free than the door slammed open with a jerk. It crashed against the plaster wall, almost hitting her in the process. But the door was no real threat. Cyprian, however, was another matter altogether. If the terrible expression on his face was any indication, he was livid with anger, and Eliza stumbled back when he barged into the room.
“Don’t you ever bar a door to me again,” he warned
in a voice that was made all the more terrifying by its unearthly calm.
in a voice that was made all the more terrifying by its unearthly calm.
“And don’t you threaten me,” she snapped in frightened reply. Then her backward motion was halted by the edge of the bed and she unceremoniously sat down.
In an instant he stood over her, tall and furious. Before she could utter a word of protest, he pushed her prone upon the bed and braced himself over her.
“This is my house. My word is law here.” He caught her hand when she tried to strike him, then pressed his weight fully on her to still her struggles. “I’ll never hurt you—I swear it—so you have nothing to fear.”
Eliza stared up at him, dismayed by her body’s betrayal. And her heart’s. “You’re hurting me now,” she whispered, conscious of the heat and power in his hard masculine form.
At once his grip loosened and he raised up a little on his elbows. That brought a bitter smile to her lips. “I don’t mean physically.”
He frowned. “Don’t try to convince me—or yourself —that what we’ve shared is repugnant to you—”
“Oh, you’re just too thickheaded to ever understand!” Once more she tried to escape his disturbing nearness, but that only lodged him more intimately against her. “Get off me!” she cried in complete frustration.
“If you wouldn’t fight me—”
“If
you
would stop ordering me around—ordering
everyone
around!”
you
would stop ordering me around—ordering
everyone
around!”
He cut her off with a kiss that came just short of being brutal. As a means of silencing her, it was most effective. But it did far more than that, for as his lips fitted to hers and his tongue sought entrance to her mouth, he began to silence all the warning bells going off in her mind too. This was not the way to convince him she would not be his mistress, by giving up her position at his very first caress. He would never take her seriously if
she parted her lips so easily and curled her arms around his neck, as if she were eager for him.
she parted her lips so easily and curled her arms around his neck, as if she were eager for him.
But she was eager. His body weighed down on hers and she reveled in the intimate contact. Something hot and seething inside her cried out that quickly for relief, and she had learned by now that only Cyprian could provide it.
Yet still, in another more sane part of her being, she clung to the conviction that this was not right, feeble though that conviction was becoming.
“No, Cyprian—” She tore her mouth from his, then shoved at his shoulders. “Get off me.”
“No.”
She turned her head away from his seeking lips, but he caught her hair roughly in his fingers and held her steady. “Don’t fight me, sweetheart. You can’t win.”
Eliza stared up at him through the darkness of the room, past the darkness of spirit that quickly descended to shroud her soul. “This should not be a contest between us, nor a fight,” she whispered as he lowered his head, presumably to plunder her mouth once more. She wasn’t sure she could fend off the carnal pleasure of it if he did, so she was relieved when he paused.
“I don’t
want
to fight you, Eliza. I just don’t see why
you’re
fighting
me
.”
want
to fight you, Eliza. I just don’t see why
you’re
fighting
me
.”
“Because you think you can take whatever you want,” she cried, putting voice to her frustrations. “Me. Aubrey. You’re the captain of your ship and your word is law there. You own this house, and you think your word must be law here too. But what about us? What about what
we
might want?”
we
might want?”
She felt him stiffen. “You want this, Eliza. Don’t try to deny it.”
“No.” She shook her head and searched for words that might make him understand. “No, I don’t want it. Not in my heart or my head. But you … you know how to make me willing. How to make my body want
your body. It’s not the same thing,” she finished in a small voice.
your body. It’s not the same thing,” she finished in a small voice.
Silence reigned for a long uncomfortable moment. But he didn’t move from his dominant position over her. “You wanted it before. On the ship last night. In the tub this afternoon.”
Eliza closed her eyes. “Maybe … maybe I did—on the ship. You … you were so tired—”
“Not
that
tired.”
that
tired.”
“And you needed me,” she finished, ignoring his interruption.
“I need you now just as much as I did then.”
“No.” She shook her head again. “It’s not the same.”
“It is for me,” he retorted, impatience clear in his low voice.
“Well, it’s not for me,” she countered. “Not anymore.”
He let out a low, exceedingly foul curse. Then, to her utter surprise, he rolled off her and stood up. Eliza lay still a few seconds. She was relieved; how could she not be? Yet the absence of his weight somehow left her with the most forlorn ache inside.
She pushed upright, then watched as he lifted the glass from a bedside lamp and used a phosphorous match to light the candle within. As the pale flickering light cast its golden hue over them both, she crawled over the bed to stand on the floor, then backed as far away from him as she could get, clutching the thin silk wrapper around her. As if that could protect her from him.
He turned to face her, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed over his chest. “I think it’s time for you to tell me just what in hell this is really all about.”
In the meager light he looked even more forbidding than in the dark. He’d removed his jacket before coming to search for her, and now his shirt was open at the
neck and partially pulled free of his janus cord trousers. He looked big and angry and extremely dangerous.
neck and partially pulled free of his janus cord trousers. He looked big and angry and extremely dangerous.
“I … I’ve already explained. Although you have a way of … of making me willing, I don’t really want … this.”
His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
Because that’s all you want of me: my body willing and ready for yours. Because you’ll only marry me if I accidentally should become with child.
But Eliza couldn’t bring herself to say that to him. “I already explained. It’s wrong.”
But Eliza couldn’t bring herself to say that to him. “I already explained. It’s wrong.”
“That’s a bunch of crap and you know it.” He advanced on her. “What we have—you and I—is rare. It’s like nothing I’ve known with any woman before. And it’s sure as hell you’ll never know it with that dandy you’re engaged to.”
“You don’t know that. Besides, Michael has nothing to do with this. You’re just trying to cloud the issue.”
“Oh?” He stopped just inches from her. “Then what the hell is the issue—besides the fact that we’re both horny and we’d both feel a damn sight better if we worked all this energy out in bed.”
“Is that all you think about?” she cried. “What goes on in bed?” She tried to step to the side and put some distance between them, but he trapped her with one brawny arm on either side of her. Breathing hard from frustration, she tilted her head back against the smoothly plastered wall and met his hot, hungry gaze. “When are you going to let Aubrey and me go?”
His jaw tensed, once and then again. “Soon. But you’d do better asking me that when I’m in a good mood, Eliza. I thought that was something women knew instinctively. You ask a man for favors
after
you make love to him.”
after
you make love to him.”
“How could I possibly know that?” she replied though her heart was breaking. “I’ve no experience with whoring. Until now.”
Quick anger brought a scowl to his face. “This does not make you a whore!”
She laughed, a harsh, brittle sound, devoid of any mirth. “I’m consorting with the enemy, aren’t I? Trying to buy my young cousin’s freedom with my body.”
She could tell by the glitter in his eyes that her words had struck their mark, and hurt. He grabbed her chin in his hand. “If that’s what you’re doing, then I suggest you get on with it.”
“Oh!” She swung at him and although the sound of her palm cracking against his face held a certain satisfaction, it obviously destroyed the last of his self-control. With a cry of pure rage he swept her up in his arms and in three quick steps crossed to the bed. Before Eliza could utter a word of protest or scramble away from him, he had her flat on her back, with both gown and wrapper yanked up to her waist.
“I wouldn’t want you to feel like a whore, Eliza, so fight me.” He pushed her legs apart and thrust up against her. “Fight me,” he ordered, biting her neck, when she twisted her face away from him. He caught her hair and pulled her head cruelly around so that his face hovered inches above hers. “Fight me if you’re so repulsed by what I’m doing.”
She tried. Truly she did. She tried to free her hands from the viselike grip he had on them, but to no avail. She tried to kick him, to buck him off—to clamp her legs back together. But she failed. As if her struggles were of no real consequence, he kept her hands trapped above her head and her legs widespread.
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