Heartless (5 page)

Ariel's face went warm. She stared down at the carpet, studied the faded blues and reds in the intricate patterns. “I would never let a man … I wouldn't … Yes.…”

Greville caught her chin, forcing her gaze back to his face. It was there again, deep in his eyes, the pain, the bitterness, the hurt, like a man betrayed by his closest friend. She didn't understand it, yet it touched her in some way.

His gaze held hers for long silent moments. He stood so close she could feel the warmth of his body, the brush of his clothes. The color of his eyes began to change, shifting from a frosty gray to a crystalline silver, the rage still there but changing, beginning to shimmer with heat.

Then without warning, his mouth crushed down over hers.

There was nothing of tenderness in the kiss. It was hard, brutal, savage, a punishing kiss meant to repay her for the betrayal he must have felt. For the second time that day she suffered the will of a man she barely knew, yet each man's attentions were totally different. The earl's brutal kiss ravished her mouth in retribution, yet as the seconds passed, it softened, heated, changed.

Ariel swayed as his lips moved over hers, beginning to coax, starting to seduce, becoming something she hadn't expected, something that pulled at her from dark, secret places.

Something far more disturbing than the kiss she had shared with Phillip Marlin.

The contact ended as abruptly as it had started and Greville turned away, pacing toward the small mullioned window, looking nearly as shaken as she. He raked a hand through the wavy black hair that edged over his collar. It gleamed blue-black in a jagged fork of lightning.

“Perhaps you're telling the truth. It doesn't really matter.”

But a chink had appeared in the armor he had been wearing, and for the first time since this nightmare began, Ariel felt a ray of hope. She gathered what little courage she had left and drew in a steadying breath.

“I can't begin to know what you are thinking. What you must surely think of me. Whatever it is, I am truly sorry for what has occurred.”

He turned, casting the full measure of that hard gray gaze in her direcion. “Are you, indeed?”

She moistened her lips, noticed that they still tingled from his kiss. “I made a bargain. As you said, you fulfilled your part. It was never my intention not to live up to mine. I only hoped—prayed—that whatever happened between us would be agreeable to both parties.”

The earl said nothing.

“What I mean to say is, I had hoped we might be able to work things out in an amiable manner. I thought we would have time to discuss it. I didn't realize you would expect me to … to fulfill our bargain the first time we met.”

He actually looked a little embarrassed. “It was not my original intention.”

Her pulse speeded up as hope continued to build. “If that is the case, there is a favor I would ask.”

A thick black brow arched up. “A favor? I believe you have received more than enough favors from me already.”

For an instant she glanced away, her own cheeks warming with embarrassment. He had given her more already than she could ever have asked. “It is merely the favor of time, my lord. As I said, when I came here, I assumed we would have a chance to become acquainted. I hoped that we might develop a … a friendship of sorts before our relationship progressed any further.”

The earl came away from the window. Now that his anger had lessened, some of the harshness had seeped from his features. For the first time she realized that in a different, more brutally masculine way, the earl was every bit as handsome as Phillip.

“Friends?”
he repeated with a slightly mocking air. “That is a novel concept, Miss Summers—having a woman for a friend. I find it almost amusing.”

Ariel lifted her chin, wishing she wasn't forced to have this conversation in a state of near-undress. On the other hand, that they were talking at all was a miracle for which she was sorely grateful.

“There is nothing amusing about friendship, my lord. And no reason at all that a man and woman could not share such a bond.”

His eyes raked over her thin chemise, fixed pointedly on her breasts, and hot color burned into her face. In the wake of such scrutiny, it took sheer force of will to remain where she stood.

“There are any number of reasons, my dear Miss Summers, that friendship between the sexes rarely occurs. The fact that you don't seem to know what they are makes me believe you might actually be the innocent you claim.” He moved closer, until he stood merely inches away. Though Ariel was taller than the average woman, she had to tip her head back to look at him.

He lifted a lock of her pale blond hair and smoothed it between his fingers. Ariel felt an odd tingling in the pit of her stomach.

“Just how would you suggest we go about building this …
friendship?
” he asked softly. His hand brushed her shoulder as he let the curl drop back into place and the tingling turned to gooseflesh that slowly edged down her arm.

Surely it was hope, she thought, that set her heart to pounding. If he agreed to wait before demanding she come to his bed, she might have time to convince him to reconsider their bargain.

“I've never been to London,” she said, dredging up a wobbly smile. “Since my arrival, I've seen little of the city. Perhaps you could show me some of the sights.”

“Sights? What sort of sights?”

Ariel's mind worked frantically, struggling to come up with an answer that might prove her salvation. “The opera, perhaps. Or a play! I-I should love to attend the theater. Shakespeare perhaps. I've always wanted to see
King Lear.
You live here in the city. Surely you know places that might be of interest. I would be happy to go wherever you suggest.”

He seemed to ponder that. He turned his back to her and resumed his scrutiny of the branches scraping against the windowpanes. “All right, Miss Summers.” His attention swung back to her. “For the present, we shall set aside your … obligations. I would rather have a willing woman in my bed than one who is there merely at my command.”

Ariel swayed on her feet, fighting a wave of relief so powerful it made her dizzy.

“Since that is the case, you may put your dress back on.”

She didn't hesitate, just snatched the gown up off the floor and struggled into it, jamming her arms into the small puffed sleeves, pulling it up over her shoulders, releasing an inward sigh of relief when she was decently covered again.

The earl said nothing more and Ariel took his silence to mean she was dismissed. Ignoring the missing buttons at the back of the dress and the fact that her hair was a windblown mess, she whirled toward the door, certain that even if any of the servants saw her, they would say nothing. From the day she had arrived at the house, she had noticed their somber, businesslike manner. Little laughter was heard in the mansion. After meeting their coldhearted employer, she understood why.

Struggling to keep the torn gown in place, she silently fled the bedchamber. She was nearly running by the time she reached her room. Once inside, she hurriedly turned the brass key, locking the door, and leaned against it. She was safe for the present. But how long would that safety last?

She wished she had the answer, wished there was a way out of the situation she had got herself into. In truth, her options were limited. She had no money, no job, and no place else to go.

And she had given her word.

Ariel squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to weep.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

I am excited to be here at Mrs. Penworthy's School of Feminine Deportment, finishing school being the next step in accomplishing my dream, that of becoming a lady. Still, I worry I shall never quite fit in. The other girls are all so refined and sure of themselves while I am constantly in peril of saying or doing the wrong thing. I have heard them making fun of me behind my back, but mostly they simply ignore me. In a way I am grateful. I fear, should the secret of my low birth be known, I would be ostracized completely.

A memory of the letter slowly faded. Justin restlessly paced in front of the slow-burning fire in his bedchamber. Though the rain had stopped and the storm had moved on, the August evening was chill, the leaves on the trees still dripping wetly onto the muddy earth.

He was tired tonight, bone-weary in a way that had nothing to do with his long journey home and everything to do with disillusionment and utter disappointment. They were rare emotions, since he had long ago accepted that life was little more than a series of disappointments. It was strictly the way things were.

He reached for the poker beside the hearth, then knelt to stir the red-orange flames, his mind replaying the scene he had come upon in the Red Room. Anger rose up as it had before, making his fingers tighten around the heavy length of iron.

His long-awaited meeting with Ariel Summers was nothing at all what he had imagined. Never once in his musings had he expected to find the sweet young woman in the letters wrapped in the arms of the most notorious rake in London—his most bitter enemy, Phillip Marlin. Justin damned the girl to hell for the betrayal he felt and silently congratulated himself on not losing his temper far worse than he had.

Setting the poker aside, he walked to a carved wooden sideboard and poured himself a brandy, his thoughts on his longtime rival. He and Phillip had been classmates at Oxford. With his golden good looks and powerful family name, Phillip was spoiled and arrogant, willing to use his sizable allowance to cultivate a circle of sycophantic friends. He was the sort who drew pleasure from ridiculing others, who preyed on other people's weaknesses.

As a youth, Justin had battled the boys who taunted him about his bastardy, using his fists to repay them for their cruelty, being caned more than once for fighting in the school yard. Eventually, he simply withdrew, keeping more and more to himself. He learned to control his anger, his pain, replacing it with a cynicism that kept people at a distance and shielded him from the world.

He kept himself well away from Phillip Marlin and his spiteful, taunting words—until the night Justin happened upon him with Molly McCarthy in an Oxford tavern. Molly was a saucy, irreverent bit of baggage who earned a few extra coins seeing to the needs of the local males. She made no secret of it, but Phillip's ego was so large he mistakenly believed her favors were reserved just for him. The night he caught her in bed with one of his friends he went insane, tearing the room apart, then unleashing his wrath on Molly, breaking her arm and beating her until Justin, who happened to be passing down the hall, had no other choice but to stop him.

The battle had been brief and painful for Phillip. Brawling with a man who had learned to defend himself with his fists had left Marlin with two black eyes, a broken nose, and a bloody lip.

It left Justin with a powerful enemy.

His jaw clenched at the memory. He took a sip of the brandy he rarely drank, then grimaced as the fiery liquid burned down his throat. In a bedchamber down the hall, Ariel would be sleeping, her flaxen hair spread out across the pillow, her pretty pink lips softened in slumber. It had never been his intention to demand she fulfill his father's loathsome bargain, but when he had seen her with Marlin—wearing the expensive clothes
he
had paid for—something inside him had snapped.

He'd wanted to kill Phillip Marlin.

Justin took another sip of brandy, then set the snifter down on the hearth. What should he do? Did he really mean to make the girl his mistress?

Unwillingly his mind conjured shadowy impressions of pale pink nipples, long, shapely legs, small stocking-clad ankles, and the downy silver-gold triangle that marked her womanhood. With her flawless skin and fine features, Ariel Summers had surpassed his father's highest expectations.

Edmund Ross wouldn't have had the slightest qualms in demanding she warm his bed, especially after he had caught her in the arms of another man.

But Justin was nothing like his father. At least he hadn't thought so until today. The truth was he wanted Ariel Summers. Had wanted her, perhaps, even before he met her. He closed his eyes against the sudden wave of desire that washed over him, making him go hard inside his breeches.

Perhaps he should pay a visit to Madame Charbonnet's House of Pleasure. Celeste Charbonnet prided herself on providing beautiful women skilled in the art of pleasing a man. He hadn't been there for quite some time, too long, it would seem, by the painful ache he now suffered.

Justin sighed into the silence. He didn't want one of Celeste's trained courtesans. He wanted Ariel Summers. He had bought and paid for her—why shouldn't he have her? By damn, the girl belonged to him.

Whether or not she was Phillip Marlin's lover no longer mattered.

Justin intended to have her.

*   *   *

Ariel awakened covered in a fine sheen of perspiration, the sheets kicked down to her knees, her nightgown bunched up around her hips. She had suffered a nightmare, she knew, and though she couldn't recall what it was, she had a strong suspicion it had something to do with the earl.

Ariel shivered, gooseflesh rising against the cold that pervaded the room. She slipped from the bed and drew on her quilted silk wrapper, fastening the buttons up the front.

A light knock sounded and the lady's maid the earl had provided walked in, Silvie Thomas, a dark-haired girl in her twenties with round hazel eyes and an equally round, slightly pudgy face. “You're up early, miss. You should have stayed in bed till I came to add coal to the fire.”

“Yes, well, there are matters I need to attend to this morning.” That was a half-truth. What she intended was to head for the park, hoping she might see Phillip. She needed to speak to him, try to straighten things out between them, but mostly she wanted to escape the house before she encountered the earl.