Elizabeth Elliott (13 page)

She fell silent, and Guy found that he had moved toward her, drawn by an almost physical need to comfort her. He stopped just a pace away, determined not to reveal any more of his weakness for her than he had already. Yet standing so close to her, it was hard to think of anything but the scent of sandalwood that his soap had left on her skin, the familiar smell that mingled with her own scent to become something new and exotic. It was as if he had left his mark on her already. His hands began to tingle, but he resisted the urge to reach for her. “What about your father’s family? Is there anyone in Italy who would take you in?”

She shook her head. “My father’s relatives will not welcome me. They made up many lies when my parents died so they could claim my father’s wealth. We cannot return unless Dante …” Her voice trailed off, then she released a deep sigh. “I cannot return to Italy.”

He felt a stab of guilt that she had no one to turn to, guilt because that knowledge brought with it a sense of triumph. Aside from her traitorous uncle and a brother who was probably dead, he had almost wanted to hear that there were no others who might claim her. Things between them were
much simpler this way. He placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him.

The thick crescents of her lashes lifted and he stared into silver-green pools that possessed their own mysterious undercurrent, a force that drew him closer even though he didn’t move. He had thought all day about what he would say at this moment, the way he would say it. Now it seemed wrong. Very wrong. He forced himself to say the words anyway.

“Let me take care of you, Claudia.” His fingertips traced the curve of her cheek to rest beneath her chin, an unplanned caress and an invitation. “I will give you the bride’s price your uncle demanded for our false betrothal. You will never want for anything.”

Her brows drew together in an uncertain frown and she took a step backward. “You need not pay me, Baron. I said that I will help free you of my uncle’s claims. I do not sell the truth, but give it willingly.”

The words formed a sudden image of Claudia giving herself to him just as willingly, not for coins, but because she followed the dictates of her heart. His tongue felt suddenly clumsy and he had to concentrate on what he was saying. “That is not why I would give you the coins, Claudia. ’Tis what I intended to pay for Halford Hall, but now I will seize the estate as retribution for your uncle’s treachery. In the months it will take to break your uncle’s claims on me, word will spread that you are here without a guardian or relative to protect your virtue. Regardless of what happens between us, you will be marked unchaste.” His gaze dropped to the lush curves of her lips. “Gold might not buy happiness, but it does buy short memories. People will overlook a great deal if you have wealth of your own.”

She gave a small gasp and pulled free of his grip. “You would make me your mistress?”

He couldn’t deny the truth, but he sought to make it sound less harsh. “I will not make you do anything, Claudia. I will protect you while you are at Montague, no matter what happens between us.”

“But you would have a great deal happen between us, is that it?” She folded her arms across her chest and glared up at him. “Only whores take gold for their favors, and I am not a whore.”

“I did not say that you were.” It took a considerable effort to maintain a patient, reasonable tone. He wasn’t entirely successful. “We are betrothed, for God’s sake. None who have a wish for a long life will dare call you a whore.”

“Then what will they call me when you have our betrothal declared invalid?”

She had a point. Fortunately, she had already provided him with an answer. “You said yourself that you did not care what people thought of you. Have you changed your mind?”

Her chin rose another inch. “I care most what I think of myself, and I will not sell my soul for a bag of gold.”

“Women sell themselves into marriage every day. I daresay you would accept my bargain willingly enough if I offered the gold as your dower.” He clamped his mouth shut too late to stop the damning words.

“Your gold cannot buy my virtue, Baron.” Her eyes narrowed. “I will not sell myself for gold, no more than I would sell myself for the title of ‘wife.’ ”

He had expected a certain degree of reluctance, but he had also expected some amount of gratitude. Instead she scorned his generous offer, made him feel perverse for making it. His patience was at an end. “Everyone has their price, Claudia.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?” She sounded more amazed than offended. The look of pity in her eyes was his undoing. She thought to shame him for his belief in the truth.

“Nay, I do not believe that everyone can be bought,” he said. “I know it for a fact. The day will come when you will learn that lesson as well. Being the selfish beast that I am, I would rather you learned that lesson from me rather than from some rogue who would turn you out without a pence to your name.” He watched her eyes grow wider as he spoke but
he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “I want you to be my mistress. Is that what you want to hear? That I am guilty of lust?”

Her hands dropped to her sides, as if she just realized that she had pushed him too far. “I do not want to hear anything of the sort.”

“You are just as guilty,” he charged. “You would have given yourself to me willingly the morning I awoke in your chamber.” She shook her head in frantic denial and backed away until the window seat stopped her retreat. He advanced on her. “You cannot deny the attraction between us, Claudia. I felt it from the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

She sat down in an abrupt movement, and he dropped to one knee in front of her, as much to block any escape she might think to make as to be closer to her. He captured her hands, his grip firm yet gentle, and his voice dropped to a seductive murmur. “There is no reason to deny what we both want, no reason to deny the inevitable.”

She snatched her hands away as if he had burned her. “I was drugged when they put you in my bed! I cannot be held accountable for any impressions I gave you that morning.”

“And in the garden? What about the impressions you gave me then?” His hands moved to her waist, fitting them to her slender curves. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you did not enjoy being in my arms, or that my kisses repulsed you.”

She bit her lower lip and looked away. Her silence was an answer in itself. He knew her price then, knew just as certainly that it was a price he would never be willing to pay. His hands dropped to the seat on either side of her. “I will not marry you, Claudia.”

“I have never deceived myself into thinking you would want me for your wife.”

He didn’t believe her. How could she not know that marriage was his intent before her family dictated otherwise? He had all but dropped to his knees in the gardens at Lonsdale to pledge his troth. If not for her uncle’s interference, he
would have done just that the next time he saw her. Nay, she knew he had wanted her for his wife. Best she learn now that what she wanted could not be. He would not give her any more false hopes, but he tried to make his voice gentle. “You know that a marriage between us is impossible. I am not fool enough to put myself in thrall to your family, and mine would think me possessed if I married Roberto of Ravenna’s sister. My brother would probably slit your throat the moment he laid eyes on you,” he exaggerated. “Kenric is not known for his forgiving nature, and he will not believe your innocence in the plot to betray me at Lonsdale. He might accept that I have made you my mistress, but he would never accept you as my wife.”

She gave him a sharp glance. “Do
you
believe in my innocence?

His heart began to beat harder. Any man in possession of his senses would believe her guilty. He sat back on his heels and raked a hand through his hair. “Aye, Claudia. I believe you are innocent, in more ways than I would like.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you do not seem to comprehend what can happen to women with no home or family they can claim, no money of their own, and a tarnished reputation. Your innocence will not protect you from the world, but I can.” The disillusionment he saw in her eyes made him hesitate. Did she think him too noble to lay claim to her, that he would worship her from afar like some lovesick courtier? She was within his fortress, within his rights to possess with or without her permission. She would have to accept the fact that he was just noble enought to want her in his bed willingly rather than by force. Never by force.

What if marriage was the only price she would consider? He tried to push that thought aside. It was too impossible to consider, a thought fit only for a besotted fool. He made himself say the words that needed to be said, rather than words they would both regret. “I cannot give you my name, but I can give you my protection. Let me take care of you.”

She bowed her head and remained silent. He listened to the sound of his breathing, slow and steady just as he forced it to be, his attention focused on the small pulse that he could see beating at her temple, the wayward curl that always escaped her braid to rest against her cheek. He wanted to see that hair unbound, to feel it brush against his skin. He wanted her not only for the pleasure she would give him in bed, but for the pleasure of knowing that he possessed something rare and exquisite, something no other man had known. Of all the bargains he had made in his lifetime, this one seemed the most important. Why didn’t she answer him?

She looked up at that moment, as if she had read his mind. Her eyes sparkled like jewels, shimmering with unshed tears, but her voice betrayed none of her emotions. “Your offer is very generous, Baron, but I am afraid I cannot accept. Unless your messenger returns to Montague with news to the contrary, I must believe that my brother is alive. God willing, that will come to pass. If Dante discovered that you made me your mistress, he would probably slit your throat the moment he laid eyes on you.” She gave him a humorless smile. “Brothers can be meddlesome, can they not?”

Guy wanted to argue the point, but couldn’t think of anything that would sound reasonable.

“In the meantime,” she went on, “I think it best if I earned my keep at Montague as I did at Lonsdale. I am considered an accomplished seamstress, and with all the cloth your weavers produce it seems that Montague would have more need for seamstresses than most.”

He counted to himself, not daring to speak until he reached ten. “I will not make you into a servant.”

“And I will not let you make me into a whore.”

“Christ! I will not—” He clenched his jaw. He had offered her security for a lifetime, and she made him feel some sort of despicable monster. So he wanted to bed her. He would stake his life that she wanted him just as badly. The way she touched him, the way she had kissed him. There were
times when she looked at him as if she could devour him whole.

This was not one of those times.

He stepped back to rethink his strategy. She would not listen to reason. Perhaps a different sort of persuasion was in order. He turned on his heel and paced to the bed, then sat down to remove his boots.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked.

“I have been two days without rest and I am in no mood to argue. If you wish to be a servant, then fine. Be a servant. I will not ask you to perform duties other than those you can accomplish with a needle and thread.”

One boot thudded to the floor then he began to tug on the second, his attention focused on the task. Claudia glanced at the door. “I would be happy to earn my keep in such a manner, Baron. If you will tell me where I might find the servants’ quarters, I will leave you to your sleep.”

“You are welcome to sleep with the servants,” he said, with a dismissive gesture toward the door, “however, I should warn you that gossip spreads faster than a draft in this castle. By now my people have heard the story of what happened at Lonsdale and of our journey here. If you leave this chamber, they will assume I have tired of you already, that you are free to bestow your favors upon another. After all, they will learn soon enough that I was forced into the betrothal, if they do not know already.” His gaze swept over her from head to foot, insolent on purpose. “Most soldiers consider wenching a sport, you know. The more you resist, the more they will pursue you. And I am not so sure they would heed the refusal of a servant as readily as they would a lady.” He gestured again toward the door. “Of course, you are free to test the truth of my words.”

Claudia frowned. She hadn’t considered all the implications of being labeled a servant at Montague, or anywhere else for that matter. No wonder he thought her naive. There was no help for it. He had no way of knowing that she didn’t need his protection. If Dante didn’t come for her, she would
sell Halford to Guy herself. The gold he had offered her to be his mistress was more or less her own money already. The wretch. He didn’t waste any time trying to take advantage of her circumstances. And to think she had intended to tell him the truth about Halford, that the keep would be his if he simply married her. He seemed to want Halford badly enough that he would probably do it. She would not marry him now if he begged her. All he wanted from her was a quick tumble, a meaningless affair. What a fool she had been.

Guy nodded toward the pile of pillows before the hearth. “That is probably the safest bed you will find in the castle. I have slept there myself on occasion. The rug is thick, the pillows are soft, and there are extra blankets in that chest next to you.”

“You expect me to sleep
here
?”

He made a noncommittal grunt as he pulled off his shirt. “I have given you my word that I won’t ask anything more of you than seamstress duties, and I promise that I will not ravish you in your sleep. Unless you doubt my word and my honor, I suggest you resign yourself to these quarters.”

“But I couldn’t possibly …” Claudia’s words died on a faint whisper. She stared at his bare chest, at the light sprinkling of hair that tapered down toward his flat stomach, then disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. The foreign, male contours of his chest fascinated her, stirred an irrational urge to trace the ridges and hollows with her fingertips to memorize each line.