Invitation to Ruin (4 page)

The kisses along her shoulder and neck continued to bedazzle her, allowing her no time to analyze where the dream was taking her.

She drowned in new sensations. Her skin pricked with awareness. Her dreams had never gone this far. She reached for—something, a gift; it thrilled her like a present she had yet to unwrap.

And then she felt the searing pain. Her eyes flashed open … Intoxicated she might have been, but she wasn’t drunk enough to miss the hard wall of flesh at her back or the throb between her thighs. This was real. There was a man in her bed. A man!

Her throat closed, choking back her screams. Her body shook with more than fear. He wasn’t just in the bed, he was in her.

Her mouth opened, but her voice scattered soundlessly in her terror. She was paralyzed by a mixture of pain and fear, until she heard his grunt of surprise. “Christ, bloody hell …” and a few other choice expletives that followed.

She knew who the rich, gravelly voice belonged to. She’d recognize Lord Wickham’s articulation anywhere. The velvet tones haunted her very dreams. Her mind reeled with the implications of his mistake. She gulped back a mortified cry.

She tasted bile in her throat at the horror of the situation. Her dream was now a nightmare. A nightmare of gigantic proportions. A nightmare that would continue on. Come morning there would be repercussions.

Her life would never be the same.

Melissa’s face flamed with shame and embarrassment. She had been enjoying his caresses, encouraging his attentions. What would he think? She’d behaved so wantonly.

For an instant she thought about the benefits this grievous blunder could bring for her and her brother. It would be the answer to Christopher’s prayers. She quickly suppressed those emotions. It would not be advantageous to her. Not with this man, a man who was reputedly incapable of love.

With that thought, panic ignited her action. “Get away from me.” She tried to move, but his steely grip had not loosened. “Let me go. What do you think you are doing?” she cried in distress.

The Lord of Wicked rose up to lean over her shoulder, but she could barely see him in the dark room, which had only a banked fire giving off heat but very little light.

“What sort of trick is this?” His voice was low and deadly in her ear.

She tried to turn to face him, wiggling in this strong grip.

“Christ, do not … move … do not … wiggle … oh, my God.”

Melissa felt him surge inside her. Once, twice, his grip on her arms vice-like. She knew her skin would be bruised in the morning. He all but roared in her ear, his breath coming in ragged pants. He was trying desperately to withdraw from her, but in her frantic panic they seemed to tangle further.

Finally, he eased his hold and he was gone from between her thighs. He rolled away from her and onto his back, rubbing his hand over his eyes and muttering under his breath. She thought she heard more cursing.

Stunned, she curled into a ball and lay completely still. She was the one who had just been violated, yet he rolled away from her as if he’d been burned by a flame. He made sure he was no longer touching her, as though she were diseased.

Her temper flared at his dismissal of her. She rolled onto her side, facing him, trying to ignore the dull ache between her thighs, noticeable, along with the wetness. She wasn’t innocent about the world of men. Cassie had been quite forthcoming with details of the marriage bed.

“Your reputation as a renowned lover is somewhat overstated.” The sarcasm all but ripped from her mouth. “It would seem only one of us is quite satisfied.”

“I have not had a woman in over three months. I’m sorry, but your enthusiastic response got the better of me. Give me a few minutes and I will redeem myself.” He added sardonically, “Since the damage has already been done.”

“Damage?” Melissa spat. “I’m still a person. A person you have abused.”

He let vent another expletive.

“Your vocabulary is much lacking. Is cussing all you can do?”

“It won’t work, you know.” The velvet in his voice replaced
with tones as cold and rough as tombstones. “I will not be captured into matrimony by this obvious trap.”

“What trap would that be? How to be deflowered by a stranger in the night? How to be ruined for any other man? How to be shamed through no fault of my own?”

He snorted. “The trap of swapping beds with Lady Cassandra, so I would take your innocence and be made to marry you.”

The darkness hid her anguish. She would never stoop so low as to try and trap a man into marriage. No matter how she played this, she would be the one to pay for his grievous error. Well, she had her pride, and she would not beg him to believe the mistake was all his own.

She swallowed her anger. There was no way she’d let him know the devastation enveloping her. “This is—and always has been—my room. Ever since we came to stay. Cassie’s room is one door further along. It would appear, in your haste you miscounted.”

More silence.

“Cassie’s door is the fifth door along the corridor. Mine is the fourth.”

“You should have locked your door.” His tone was scathing, letting her know exactly whose fault he thought this situation was.

“A mistake I will not make again. However, do you always enter without an invitation?” she threw back.

“I had an invitation, if you must know.”

“You certainly did not.”

He frowned. “Did I say it was from you?”

“Well, you should have counted the doors more carefully. Your math is appalling.”

“I can count. My information was incorrect.” He finally uttered in a tone verging on resignation, “I will kill my brother …”

Melissa gasped in horror, his mistake suddenly obvious. “Once I have your apology, you’ll have to line up to get to your brother. Now get out!”

He ignored her command, seemingly lost in thought. His voice softened. “Why on earth did you not stop me?” The words were almost a plea.

“I thought I was dreaming.”

He finally turned his head to look at her. “But you were a virgin. Virgins do not dream of men …”

“Of men what?”

He growled, “Of men ravishing them.”

“And how would you know what virgins dream about? Have you asked them?”

“Not bloody likely. I try to keep as far away from them as possible.”

“Well then, there is no need for you to keep away from me, since I am no longer an innocent.”

Another expletive. “Do not remind me.”

He lay silent, staring intensely at her, his features shadowed in the half light. She could make out his high forehead and strong nose. His face bore a resemblance to the Greek statue of Aries in the London museum, classically planed and chiseled. The God of War. She tried to stop her body’s shiver. She really wasn’t afraid of him … or was she? She did not want to fight with this man. She instinctively knew she would not win.

“You’re taking this rather well,” he finally uttered.

“This situation is not of my making. I am not to blame. Besides, I am not hurt.” She winced as she moved. “Well, maybe a bit sore, but I shall live.”

He sighed. “You’ll be blamed. You can hardly tell everyone you did not stop me because you thought it was a dream.”

She smiled, thankful for once of her sensible nature. Creating a fuss would help neither of them. “Who says I am going to tell anyone. I am hoping you can be as quiet leaving as you were arriving. I’m sure you don’t want your mistake known. Not only will you be the laughing stock of the clubs, you would be forced to marry me, and I know you don’t want that.”

“If I was not so relieved, I would be offended. If this is my mistake, you do not put much store in my honor. Most women would demand I marry them, and I should be honorbound to do so.”

She turned from him then. “I will not marry a man who is being forced to marry me. I have seen the pain that brings, and I would not wish it on my worst enemy. “

“Like all women, you’re a romantic.”

“I know marriages are arranged for mutual benefit, dowry, land, money. But I want love.” She added truthfully, “And if I can find a man who loves me, why shouldn’t I?”

“Do you have someone in mind? Was it your true love you were dreaming of?”

Melissa stiffened beside him. Had he guessed? “A woman does not kiss and tell, not even on her dream lover.”

“I have never met a young woman like you. Most ladies would be in hysterics by now, demanding marriage.” He studied her face for a moment. “I thank you.”

She held his grateful gaze. “I know what it is like to have no say in your future. I could not, in good conscience, put you in the position I so long to escape.”

   She’s not demanding marriage. Thank the Lord.
You’re such a bastard
, his conscience screamed.

Guilt and remorse hit him like a fierce drumbeat pounding in his head. Reminding him he had taken her virginity, roughly, quickly, with absolutely no finesse. She was ruined.

You can’t leave her to Society’s wrath
. He ran his hand through his hair. Could he? He didn’t want to see her hurt or disgraced. Perhaps he could turn this disaster into the answer to both their prayers.

He’d heard of her brother’s dire financial situation and that she had no dowry. If he took a wife, his mother would stop her insistent hounding. Just because he married did not mean he had to father a child. There were ways to prevent conception, the obvious one being never to share his wife’s
bed. There were plenty of willing females to take care of his carnal needs.

His life wouldn’t have to change at all.

His mother had to oversee his many staff, in all four of his households. It took a lot of work. Miss Goodly would be kept busy enough for her to lead her own life, separate from his. She would have everything a woman could dream of—title, position, security, and wealth.

But not children. Anthony frowned. His mother and all of Society would never know the reason he did not produce an heir was simply because he never had conjugal relations with his wife. They would assume she was barren.

He inwardly grimaced. Was this fair on Melissa? He sighed. The point was moot. If he was honest with himself, he had to marry her. He had no choice, and she definitely didn’t have a choice.

He would not tell her it would be a marriage in name only. There was no point in upsetting the situation further.

But the chance of making his wife pregnant was not one he would ever take—again.

He turned and looked at the now not-so-innocent woman lying composed beside him. Her eyes locked with his and held him spellbound, his breath hitching in his throat. Their color was a beautiful tawny-brown, with shards of jade, glowing in the dim light. They appeared luminous globes welling with unshed tears, the chocolate specks adding to their troubled depths.

Even now his body began to stir, his mind remembering the feel of her soft curves and satin skin beneath his hands. His eyes were drawn to her rose-red lips, plump and luscious. He wanted to taste her, to devour her with his need, to set her passion soaring, and teach her that their joining could be so much more.

At the thought of making love to her again, his blood thundered loud through his veins. He wanted to reach out and tear her offending nightgown from her body. It was a sin to cover such a vision of beauty.

His heart stilled at the implications of his body’s response to her. Perhaps this plan was not very clever after all. He definitely shouldn’t want with such consuming desire, a woman who would become his wife. He shook his head.
No. It’s simply that you haven’t had a woman in so long—

The bedchamber door crashed open, and two men were silhouetted in the doorway.

Melissa’s elder brother stepped into the room. “You will obtain a special license first thing in the morning, or I will have my satisfaction on the dueling field.”

Melissa shrank down into the covers. “Christopher, desist. It was an honest mistake. Anthony thought he was in Cassie’s room.”

Anthony rolled onto his side, blocking the sight of Melissa from those in the doorway, his eyes never leaving her brother’s. “Be quiet, Melissa. I don’t need a woman to beg for me.”

She stiffened beside him.

Her brother’s sarcastic words were biting. “Anthony is it?” The Baron strode farther into the room. “A mistake is when he apologizes for entering the wrong room and turns and leaves. There is no mistake when he stays to defile the mistake anyway, to simply sate his lust between a willing pair of thighs.”

Melissa gasped.

Anthony exhaled. “You best watch what you say about the lady beside me before I decide to teach you some manners.”

“I think we’ve both learned she is no lady.”

Despite his nakedness Anthony leaped out of bed, his fingers wrapping around Christopher’s throat, a dark rage engulfing him.

A familiar voice said, “As you seem to have such strong protective feelings for the lady, it would seem it’s to be the special license.”

His brother’s calm voice broke through his haze of anger. Anthony shoved Goodly aside and stalked toward Richard.

“So you were behind all of this.” In a deadly voice he said, “Do you know what you have done?”

“I have saved you from years of torment,” Richard smugly replied. “I’ve stopped Father from destroying the rest of your life.”

Anthony stood looking at his brother as if he were a total stranger. “No. You have simply ensured Miss Goodly will endure a life of misery. “

He retrieved his dressing gown from the floor. Donning it, he walked to the door and turned to address Melissa. “I am truly sorry for what has befallen you tonight. I did not mean to hurt you.”

Anger at his brother’s deception flooded his being as he watched Melissa’s eyes flood with tears.

“I do not want either of you to fight a duel over me. We will find another way. I won’t force Anthony to marry me.”

“You misunderstand, my sweet. I will get a special license. I am merely apologizing in advance for the lifetime of disappointments you will endure as my wife.”

A
nthony stormed into his bedchamber, slamming the door behind him. The fire in the grate cast his shadow over the room, making him appear like a monster out of a child’s worst nightmare. He hung his head. He was a monster.