Masque of Betrayal (22 page)

Jacqui tore her mouth away. “How dare you, you bastard!” she hissed, enraged … and exhilarated by the challenge he issued.

Dane chuckled, seeing through her protests to the kindled fire beneath. “You will soon find that there is little I wouldn’t dare,
chaton
.” He gave her a long, knowing look. “That is one of the things that most excites you about me. That … and the way I make you feel when I’m deep inside you. Isn’t that right, Jacqueline?” He bent to taste her other breast as he had the first.

Jacqui licked her dry lips, determined to combat the spell he was purposefully weaving about her. “No … that’s not right,” she said in a soft pant, shards of pleasure piercing through her as his teeth and tongue worked their magic. “I … only … want … you … to … release … me. …

Dane savored the flavor of her, reveling in the passion she couldn’t disguise. He lifted his mouth for a scant second, watching the telltale signs of her desire: her dark lashes sweeping the fine bones of her cheeks, the soft flush that stained her satiny skin. He wanted to pull her beneath him and love her until his doubts and her protests had disintegrated into dust. Valiantly, he fought the impulse.

“Your hands have been free for some time now,” he drawled instead in a dry, mocking tone.

Jacqui’s eyes flew open, her face flooding with furious color. “Damn you!” She fairly flew from the bed, storming over to her wardrobe and snatching a silk dressing gown from within it. It took three attempts and six oaths to don it, so badly were her hands shaking. All the while Dane lounged on the bed, watching her with an intense, brooding expression on his handsome face.

“Get out!” Jacqui yanked the door open and waited, all regal stance and maidenly outrage. “Father expects you in his study.”

Dane came to his feet and scooped up the rest of his strewn clothing, taking his time dressing. Jacqui’s response was more than enough to convince him that his battle was as good as won. He forced his conscience to remain still, silently assuring himself that this crucial a war left no room for sentiment or guilt. Buttoning his shirt, he joined Jacqui at the door.

She was an enchanting, barefoot vision of smoldering anger, her mahogany curls a tousled waterfall about her shoulders, her small chin raised in mutinous demand. Dane felt emotion claw at his gut, despite his best intentions to remain unmoved. He saw past the flames that burned in her eyes, saw through to the fear and vulnerability that lay beneath.

“It needn’t be this way,
chaton
,” he murmured, trying one last time to shatter her misguided veil of secrecy. He nuzzled her sweet-scented hair, allowing his heart to speak past his judgment. “The type of marriage we will share is entirely up to you.”

“We are not going to share
any
marriage,” Jacqui snapped, jerking her head away from his seeking lips.

Dane ignored her fervent denial. “I’ll repeat what I said earlier … give me your respect and your honesty, full measure, and I shall stand beside you for the rest of our lives.” He raised her stubborn chin a notch higher, regarding her soberly. “Let us stop pretending, my beautiful, exasperating love. We both know you are hiding something from me. Know this as well. You have my word that whatever truth you tell me, no matter how grim, I’ll give you my strength, if not my blessing, and I’ll protect you from whatever repercussions I can.” He looked like he wanted to say more, then thought better of it. “I do not want to keep your father waiting any longer. The particulars I shall leave to you … for our wedding as well as our marriage.”

Jacqui bristled, throwing back her shoulders and clenching her fists at her sides. “For the last time, I am
not
going to marry you, Dane.”

Dane gave her his slow, charming … infuriating … grin. “And for the last time … I promise that you
are,
Jacqueline.” He walked past her, pausing only to raise her tightly closed fist to his lips. “Good night,
chaton
.” He stepped away, appraising her with possessive deliberation. “You will look magnificent in white.” She slammed the door in his face.

George Holt abruptly ceased his pacing as Dane entered the study looking as unruffled as if he’d just come from a business meeting rather than a condemnable liaison with George’s virgin daughter. The two men eyed each other warily, George’s gaze accusing, Dane’s direct.

“I’m not even certain how to begin,” George stated flatly, lines of pain etched on his face. “Years of fatherhood have not prepared me for this.” He shook his head, as if searching for an answer that was not to be found. “How could you do it?”

Dane felt a wave of sympathy for Holt. Regardless of what else he might be, he was obviously devoted to his only child. The shock of finding his young and precious daughter in Dane’s arms must have been devastating. In his mind, Jacqui was ruined.

“Before I begin,” Dane replied with gentle understanding, “I want to reiterate that none of this was Jacqueline’s fault. It was I who—”

“I heard your chivalrous confession the first time you offered it,” George cut in, scowling, “and the fact that you admit to having seduced Jacqueline offers me no solace whatsoever. First, it matters not whose initiative it was, for the end result is still the same. Second,” and he shot Dane an astute look, “I know my daughter very well, Westbrooke.
Very
well. And I can assure you that, experienced at seduction though you might be, she would not have succumbed to your charms had she chosen to remain immune. To be blunt, if Jacqueline didn’t want you, not only could you not have seduced her, you couldn’t even have taken her by force. She would have unmanned you first. So, apparently, my daughter possesses strong feelings for you.”

Dane’s lips twitched. “You’re absolutely right, Holt.” He folded his arms across his chest in a decisive gesture, proceeding as he had planned. “Very well, I am going to be equally as honest with you as you were with me. The fact is, I’ve wanted Jacqueline from the first night we met. I have done everything in my power to charm her into my bed … and am elated that I finally succeeded in getting her there.” He ignored Holt’s outraged gasp, pressing onward, determined to achieve his end. “There is but one piece of the puzzle with which you are unfamiliar. And that is the piece that is my gravest disappointment.”

“What the hell is that?” George was now beyond anger and into disbelief. No man would speak thus about another man’s daughter and expect to live. Pouring himself a much-needed drink, George prayed for strength. “It seems to me that you have taken all you could possibly want from my Jacqueline. What is there left over which to feel disappointment?” His hands were shaking so violently that he sloshed two-thirds of the glass’s contents onto the carpet.

“To the contrary, Holt, I want much more than your beautiful daughter is prepared to give. What I
want
is Jacqueline, not as my mistress, but as my wife.”

George turned, stunned. “Your wife? But I don’t understand … if you wish to marry Jacqui, then why …”

“You provided the answer yourself not two minutes past,” Dane remarked dryly. “If Jacqueline does not want to do something, then there exists no earthly force that can coerce her to do it. I’m sorry to say that your daughter has turned down my marriage proposal in a most emphatic manner.”

“I see.” George downed his drink, then studied the empty glass as if assessing the situation.

Dane waited, tense with the awareness that Holt’s next reaction might provide some important answers. If the older man were half as close to his daughter as he professed, he would be privy to the true motivation behind Jacqueline’s refusal, be it staunch independence … or something far more menacing.

George cleared his throat roughly. “What, may I ask, are your feelings for Jacqueline?”

That was one question Dane could answer without deceit or hesitation. “I am in love with Jacqueline and have been from the instant I set eyes on her.”

George’s jaw sagged with relief. “I rather thought as much.” He paused briefly. “I suspect Jacqueline is also falling in love with you.”

Dane broke into a broad smile, inordinately pleased at hearing that possibility vocalized. “Despite her struggles to the contrary, I suspect you are right.” A startling realization struck him as he spoke, exploding in his skull with all the force of an avalanche and causing the triumphant smile on his face to vanish instantly.

Though he was relentlessly bent on discovering the truth about Jacqueline, the outcome of his findings would not change the fact that he wanted her as his. If Jacqueline were implicated, if she were, indeed, a traitor to America, it would wreak havoc on his soul, drive an unbreachable wedge between them … yet the reality of his love for her would not alter. Loathe her he might, but love her he would. Always.

Somewhat shaken by the overwhelming magnitude of his feelings, Dane went over and helped himself to an unoffered drink, tossing it off in one quick gulp. The irony of the situation was uncanny. He, who for two and thirty years had walked his own path, controlled his own destiny, earned the respect and ofttimes fear of those who knew him, was now reduced to putty in the hands of one small, compelling woman. It was downright laughable.

He refilled his glass.

George was watching Dane’s bleak expression and odd behavior with a frown. “You find the fact that Jacqueline loves you displeasing?”

Dane gave a hollow laugh. “No, Holt, I find the fact that Jacqueline loves me too bloody pleasing for my own good.” He bit off his own damning words. “However, the point is moot, for it changes nothing. She still refuses to marry me.” He glanced at George, gauging his position. “So you see my dilemma.”

George nodded. “I do.” He refilled his own glass. “As I said, Westbrooke, I know my daughter.” He stared down into his whiskey, lost in thought, apparently searching for the right words. He cleared his throat once, twice, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Am I to assume … could Jacqueline be … with child?” he blurted out awkwardly after a long interval.

“She could. I did nothing to prevent it.”

Blotches of angry color stained George’s cheeks’ and his jaw tightened imperceptibly. “Then it is up to us to change her mind from refusal to acceptance, is it not?”

“It is indeed.” Dane inclined his head. “Then I can expect your support?”

“My support? I believe that it has gone far beyond the point of my offering my blessing, Westbrooke. After what took place here tonight, I haven’t any alternative
but
to sanction a marriage between you and my impulsive, headstrong Jacqueline. The two of you have taken matters into your own hands and, as far as I’m concerned, sealed your fate. In every capacity but the lawful one, Jacqui belongs to you.”

“Yes she does, doesn’t she?” Dane knew he sounded smug rather than remorseful, but he just couldn’t feign regret. Not when victory loomed closer with each passing second. “Jacqueline, however, doesn’t agree. So you see, Holt, my only remaining problem is our charming, but reluctant, bride-to-be.”

George placed his glass firmly on the table. “I’ll talk to her.”

“We’ll both talk to her.”

“No.” George shook his head emphatically. “Give me some time alone with my daughter, Dane. There are … things about Jacqueline you don’t understand, things only I can approach.”

Dane’s head came up. “Your daughter is soon to be my wife, Holt. Shouldn’t I be privy to all that concerns her?”

“You will … in time. But for tonight, let me speak with her alone.”

It took all of Dane’s self-control not to press the issue, but his common sense told him that no further headway would be made tonight; not when Holt was totally preoccupied with Jacqueline’s lost innocence.

“Very well, George.” His decision made, Dane headed toward the door. “I’ll give you until midday tomorrow to make Jacqueline see reason.” He paused, his jaw set. “Then I am returning to claim her … be it willingly or kicking and fighting … as my betrothed.”

“For the last time, Father, I am not going to marry Dane Westbrooke!” Jacqui flung herself onto her bed with such force that Whiskey flew into the air, then landed amid the rumpled bedding with a soft plop. He sniffed the pillow where Dane’s head had been, turned his nose up with haughty distaste, and returned to nap on the warm indentation where Jacqui had lain.

George leaned back against the closed door, his expression one of anguish. “Your behavior is totally irrational, Jacqueline, and completely unlike you.”

“Perhaps that is because what you are asking of me is insane,” she returned stubbornly. “I am truly sorry that you discovered Dane in my bed. I did not intend for that to happen. I did not intend for
any
of tonight’s events to happen,” she added pointedly. “But they did. I refuse to sacrifice my entire life for a mere indiscretion.”

Crossing the room, George sat down beside her. “We are not speaking of a mere indiscretion, and you know it, Jacqui,” he said softly. “Just as you know that I would forgive you anything … even this … and never punish you by forcing you to, as you put it, sacrifice your life. What happened tonight,
ma petite,
involves much more than your virtue. It involves your heart.”

Jacqui looked away. “I can’t marry him, Father.”

“Ah, now we arrive at the true problem:
can’t,
not
won’t.
So you do love him?”

Jacqui made a choked sound. “I care for him.”

“Quite a lot, I should say.” George’s tone was filled with gentle wisdom. “Enough to take the risk of conceiving his child.” He saw her narrow shoulders tense.

“I doubt there could be a child this quickly.”

George put a supportive arm around her, drawing her close. “And if you are wrong? Would you want to deny your daughter the right to share with her father what you and I have shared all these years?”

“That’s unfair,” she whispered.

“Perhaps, but it is true nonetheless.” He stroked Jacqui’s hair tenderly. “You’ve been a blessing to me from the beginning. I could wish no less for any grandchild of mine than to be wanted and welcomed by her parents”—he smiled in fond remembrance—“as you were by your mother and me. Do you know that, when you were but a newborn babe, Marie would stare down at you for hours as you slept, telling me time and again that you were a rare and special child, destined to be someone of great importance, not just to us but to the world?” He chuckled. “She spoke with such conviction that I had no choice but to believe her.