Pleasure Me (45 page)

“What is it you want from me, Garrick?” she asked with a quiet serenity she didn’t feel. Her composure seemed to startle him, and he narrowed his eyes.

“I want to know why you let me believe you’d betrayed me to Tremaine.”

“As I recall, the only thing I said to you was that I was free to see whom I wished,” she said.

“And yet you knew I believed the worst when Tremaine told me he knew that I have only one ballock.” There was a grimness about the statement that said the memory of that moment hadn’t left him.

“Would you have believed me if I’d said otherwise?” She shook her head. “You chose to believe what you wanted.”

It was the truth. She’d seen his condemnation in his eyes the moment he’d found her in Tremaine’s arms. Even if she could have told him the truth that day at the orphanage, Garrick wouldn’t have believed her. His expression lightened as if she’d said something that pleased him. She frowned. Why did she suddenly feel as though she’d revealed something she shouldn’t have?

“And my alibi. What made you willing to openly declare that you were my mistress when it meant you’d be ostracized?”

“You were innocent.” She shrugged slightly. “I’d already made plans to move to Crawley Hall. I had nothing to lose.”

“Nothing except donations to St. Agnes’s.” His husky response made her flinch. A mistake.

His lips brushed against hers like a gentle breeze. The faint touch held a delicious hint of seduction in it. She shuddered, suddenly feeling light-headed. Dear Lord, she’d taught him well. That hadn’t been a kiss. It had been a declaration of war on her senses.

The raw, male scent of him washed over her, and she struggled not to let her body melt into his. God, he smelled so wonderful, and the low sinful sound of his voice was wreaking havoc on her sensibilities. He was on a mission, and she knew it was her surrender. She’d known it from the moment she’d seen him standing in the bathroom doorway upstairs. She closed her eyes to relish this last moment with him. It would have to last her a very long time.

“I want to know why you did it, Ruth. I want to know why you publicly admitted you were my mistress.” It was a command, and his expression warned her that capitulation was the only thing that would satisfy him. He cupped her face in his hands, and his touch sent a wild tremor racing through her. “Would it be easier for you to answer me, if I said I love you?”

His words made her sway on her feet. It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t be in love with her. He was infatuated—convinced they could overcome the twelve years between them. But she knew better. When he was in his prime, she would be a doddering old fool. In a few years, he’d regret being with her. He’d leave her, and she refused to bear the heartache of his leaving.

The pain she’d lived with over the past two weeks had been far greater than anything she could have imagined. To experience something worse wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. Panic welled up inside her as she met his blue eyes. Whenever he looked at her like that it always took her breath away. Now wasn’t any different. Brushing his hands aside, she took a quick step backward.

“I don’t know why you came here, my lord, but—”

“I came here to ask you to marry me, Ruth.”

His words stunned her. A confession of infatuation was one thing, but this? The thought of marriage shot a bolt of horror through her. A long-term liaison would be scandalous enough, but marriage? Impossible. How could she possibly agree to marry him? She was almost old enough to be his mother.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m far too old for you,” she snapped. “Even if I were foolish enough to agree to such a mad proposal, you’d be neglecting your duty.”

“My
duty
,” he growled.

“As head of your family you’re required to produce an heir. I’m too old to bear you a son. You need a younger wife.”

Defiantly, she glared at him. Courtesans never married, any more than younger men married women who were too old for them. They glared at each other for a long moment, the silence between them thick with tension. Garrick’s eyes had turned dark blue with anger, but she didn’t care. He was acting like a spoiled schoolboy who’d been denied something he wanted. She turned to walk away from him, but his hand flew out to grasp her arm and force her to look at him. Eyes narrowed, he gave her a slight shake.

“This isn’t about age at all, is it, Ruth?” His mouth thinned with anger. She gasped at the ferocity of his statement. “It’s about fear.”

“
What
?” she exclaimed as she tried to twist free of his grasp.

“Fear.”
He emphasized the word with a force that sent a shiver down her spine. “Every man you’ve ever known has left you, just like your father abandoned you.”

“My father has
nothing
to do with this.” Her mouth went dry as a tiny voice in the back of her head called her a liar.

“He has everything to do with it. Your age isn’t the real problem. It’s your fear that I’ll abandon you, just like your father did you and your mother.” The harsh words held a ring of truth in them and it terrified her.

“My lifestyle makes it inevitable that my lovers and I are destined to quit each other. You’re no different.” Her voice sounded hollow in her ears.

“I won’t leave you, Ruth,” he said firmly. “I’m not your father or any of your other lovers. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

She stared up at him, unable to respond. Garrick’s assessment of her was frightening. What he’d said about her father was so close to the truth that words failed her. He knew her far better than she knew herself. Her father’s refusal to visit her mother on her deathbed had always troubled her deeply, but looking back, she realized it had been more painful than she’d ever allowed herself to admit. She’d felt abandoned and all alone after her mother died. There had been no one to turn to, and she’d done what was necessary to survive. She wet her lips with her tongue, and Garrick growled softly.

“I know you love me, Ruth. You wouldn’t have sacrificed yourself by giving me an alibi otherwise.”

“I don’t,” she said hoarsely. Even she could hear the words for what they were. A lie.

“I don’t believe you. Say it. Tell me that you love me.”

He pulled her into his arms, staring down at her. Oh God, what was she supposed to do? He’d said he wouldn’t leave her. Could she believe him? She squeezed her eyes shut as she took a leap of faith.

“I love you, Garrick,” she whispered.

In the next instant, his mouth devoured hers as he crushed her against him. The kiss demanded her complete surrender, and she willingly succumbed. Every inch of her was on fire as she melted into him. She was certain she was making a mistake, but at this precise moment she didn’t care. All that mattered was his touch and how it made her feel. Young. Alive. Desirable.

Loved.

Even now it was hard to comprehend that he really loved her. Her lips parted to give him access to her mouth, and a soft whimper escaped her as his tongue teased hers in a familiar dance of seduction. She’d missed him so much. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought it possible that she could give her heart to a man. But she had with Garrick. His kiss deepened until she was deaf and blind to everything around her.

Garrick’s skill at kissing had never been in question, but there was a new level of confidence in him that said he would never be her pupil again. Instead, he would be the master, and she welcomed his possessive touch. His lips left hers and hungrily skimmed across her cheek to her ear. A low groan rolled out of him.

“Christ Jesus, you go to my head. I want nothing more than to carry you upstairs to bed this instant.” His breathing ragged, he rested his forehead against hers. “But there are some people I want you to meet.”

“Your friends?” she rasped as she tried to calm her racing heart at the thought of making love to him.

“Yes. They’re here to help my cause.”

“Your cause?”

“I intend to marry you, Ruth. I won’t take no for an answer.” His emphatic tone made her stiffen in his arms.

“You’ll have to,” she bit out fiercely. “It’s just not done. You cannot marry your mistress, let alone a woman so much—” His fingers pressed against her mouth.

“Don’t,” he warned with a harsh look.

She closed her eyes for a brief second, her heart aching at the thought of not being able to bear him a son. God, if only she were a few years younger. She brushed the thought aside. It wasn’t possible. She loved him, and nothing mattered except him. When it came time for him to produce an heir then she would bear the pain of that moment for his sake. If she couldn’t give him a son, she would set him free when the time came for him to do his family duty.

“You need an heir, and you know I can’t give you that.”

“Vincent will carry on the family line,” he bit out through clenched teeth. He clearly expected her to fall in step with his demands, but she refused to let him make a mistake he would no doubt regret in the future.

“We shall continue in the same manner as before or not at all.”

“That’s not good enough for me. But we shall see. Come.”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. Instead, he simply grabbed her hand and led her out of the library toward the salon. When they reached the closed doors of the parlor, he opened them and pulled her into the room behind him. An older couple sat on the room’s love seat waiting patiently. The moment the door opened the gentleman quickly stood up. The couple smiled as Ruth and Garrick came to a halt in front of them.

“Ruth, I’d like you to meet Squire Cranston and his wife, Mrs. Cranston.” Garrick swept his hand toward the older couple. “Their property abuts Chiddingstone Manor. Squire, Mrs. Cranston, may I present the Lady Ruth. My fiancée.”

Garrick’s announcement made her gasp as the Cranstons immediately offered them best wishes. She was so outraged with Garrick that she barely found the wherewithal to greet the squire and his wife with any modicum of politeness. Furious, she sent Garrick a glare, but he simply smiled with the satisfaction of a man who’d just gotten his way. Somehow she managed to keep her wits about her enough to invite the couple to stay for supper. Mrs. Cranston’s voice helped to suppress her anger, and she focused her attention on the woman.

“The baron tells me the Hall is actually an orphanage.”

“Yes, but it’s not a typical one. I’ve taken a page from Lord Stratfield and his sister’s administration of their home.” She sent Garrick a quick look, but he’d already pulled the squire aside to discuss local politics. “Crawley Hall offers children a safe haven as well as the opportunity to learn a skill or trade.”

“How wonderful,” Mrs. Cranston said with great enthusiasm. “I grew up in an orphanage, and it was nothing like this lovely home.”

It was impossible not to be drawn to the woman. There was something warm and pleasant about her demeanor. And she’d mentioned her past without rancor or the slightest amount of self-pity. Ruth smiled at her.

“Whatever your circumstances once were, you are clearly happy now.”

“Very. Albert makes me very happy.” Mrs. Cranston beamed. “And what wonderful news about you and Lord Stratfield. I hope you will be very happy.”

“The baron was a bit premature in his announcement,” she said quietly as she glanced at Garrick, who was deep in conversation with the squire. “I’ve not yet given his lordship an answer.”

“Ahh, so he intends to coerce, if not embarrass, you into accepting his offer.” Mrs. Cranston chuckled.

“Yes. And his tactics do not sit well with me.” Ruth turned her head toward Garrick again, and as if he knew she was watching him, he looked in her direction. Passion blazed in his eyes, but his love for her was easy to see in the fiery look.

“Well, it’s evident the man is deeply in love with you. Perhaps he’s worried you might say no.” The quiet observation made Ruth jerk her gaze back to the older woman to find Mrs. Cranston watching her with great interest.

“You say that as if the baron had expressed his concerns to you.” Ruth scrutinized the woman in a fashion that made Mrs. Cranston blush.

“I am convinced the baron came to us out of desperation,” the squire’s wife murmured. “He knew that . . . well, that Albert and I have something in common with you and Lord Stratfield.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Confused, Ruth shook her head. Mrs. Cranston frowned slightly before a lovely smile brightened her features.

“How old do I look to you, Lady Ruth?” The woman’s question made Ruth gape at her in astonishment, and Mrs. Cranston laughed softly. “Forgive me, but I have a good reason for asking. You see, I’m older than Albert. His lordship knew that, and he asked us to come help him plead his case with you.”

“I see.”

Ruth sighed with resignation. Garrick was bound and determined to see to it that she had no arguments to use against his proposal. No doubt he assumed that a couple where the wife was older than her husband by a few years would serve to aid his case.

“I’m not sure you do, my dear. It’s why I asked you how old I look. You see, I’m nine years older than Albert.”

“Nine years,” she breathed with amazement.

“Yes, and like you, I was resistant to my lover’s marriage proposal. I refused him three different times, and he finally threatened to compromise me if I didn’t say yes.” Mrs. Cranston reached out to pat her hand. “Lord Stratfield explained he had reason to believe you would be reluctant to accept his suit for one of the same reasons I was hesitant to accept Albert’s proposal.”

“You hesitated because of the age difference.”

“Yes, I was thirty-six when I met Albert. My age and not knowing who my parents were made me
more
than hesitant. But Albert didn’t care about either of those things. All he cared about was me. I’ve not looked back since the moment I agreed to be his wife.” Mrs. Cranston glanced at her husband, and happiness lit up her face. Instinctively, Ruth knew the squire had sent his wife a look of affection. It was the only explanation for the woman’s glow.