Prisoner of Desire (26 page)

"Lorena is mine, Mother. I will deal with her." He pushed his chair back, but his mother's face froze him. Something was there that he had not seen directed at him before, a look he'd only glimpsed when she was glaring at his father. That expression promised Sebastian Rawlins hell.

Pure, undiluted hell.

"Yours? That girl belongs to no one. Her spirit is too strong. Keep trying to capture her and she will walk away from you no matter how many tears it costs her." His mother pushed back from her seat, rising to her full height. "A woman such as Lorena will only be caught by love. Don't be as pig-headed as your marauding father. Tell her you love her. That is the only thing that will hold her."

"Love isn't for men, Mother."

One dark eyebrow arched delicately. "If that is so, my son, you have already lost her."

His mother swept from the room, leaving him to stare at the dishes. His appetite fled right on the coattails of hearing that Lorena was lost to him.

He refused to accept that.

They needed each other. He needed her. Snorting in frustration, he stood and headed for the dockside office of Rawlins shipping. His pace was brisk and his temper foul.

Love was for women and little girls. It was an invention of men with small cocks who were

looking for the means to coax women into their beds. He needed Lorena. Craved her but he

didn't call that love.

In this life, you only ever going to love one woman...

Tibetha's words rose from his memory so strong he paused and actually looked at his hand. The hair on his nape stood up, souring his temper further. With a muffled curse he stomped down the block to the Rawlins shipping office, slamming the door on his way inside.

He wouldn't lie to her. Lorena deserved more, deserved better than dishonesty from him.

But would she stay if he said it?

Warren froze, temptation teasing him with the idea. If she believed in love, what was the harm in saying he loved her?

There was harm in it. He sat down, his shoulders suddenly heavy. Honor wasn't something a man chose to sidestep in favor of gaining what he wanted. Lying to Lorena now would discount every apology he'd given for abducting her. He couldn't expect her to trust him if he resorted to deception.

Which left him dreading the moment she'd ask him to make good on his promise to send her

home. His gut twisted and he doubted he was going to be able to keep his promise. But he had to.

Honor demanded it.

"I am beginning to notice how alike you and Warren are." Lorena spoke softly but Brigitte understood her. The woman fluttered her eyelashes. Lorena actually stared at her because she performed it so precisely.

"I promise. Only one last shop. You will need some gloves for tonight's dance."

Brigitte pointed with her fan at another shop. They had been walking along the garment district for most of the morning, Warren's mother wielding her charm on the helpless shop owners

ruthlessly.

"Oh, I don't know how to dance."

Brigitte froze. "You don't what?"

"Dance. My stepfather forbade it or any gathering which allowed such."

Warren's mother pushed her lips into a pout. It was a tiny sign of her temper and the only one she gave away. The fan snapped open, waving back and forth for a long moment.

"I had heard the Puritans were modeling their homes more somberly but what is wrong with a bit of dancing?" She snapped the fan shut. "Well, we shall have to hurry now. You will need a few lessons before we depart."

Brigitte didn't give her any time to protest. She swept her into the glove shop and out with a half-dozen pairs no less. The woman was as commanding as her son, and she did it all in a corset.

Lorena found her fascinating. Somehow, she sensed a kindred spirit in his mother, one who took what she wanted when society couldn't see.

Right or wrong, there was beauty in the way the woman took the world around her and did

Exactly what she wanted with it. Lorena found herself studying it and craving the opportunity to practice what she'd absorbed.

The bell on the front door of Rawlins shipping tinkled sometime in the late afternoon. Young Tomas entered, tucking his hat beneath his arm.

"Card from your mother, Captain."

Warren's suspicions rose instantly. "Thank you."

The cream paper looked innocent enough but he'd been raised by a woman who excelled in

getting her way by gentle persuasion.

And every other calculated move she could figure out how to spring on the male members of the family. His father was forever roaring with frustration while their mother calmly pressed her will on him.

Breaking the seal, he stared at the message.

"Hell."

Garrick looked across the offices at him. "What are yelling about? I seem to recall you retired early last night."

The jealous note in his brother's voice should have pleased him. Instead Warren felt his throat tighten.

"Mother's taking Lorena to the Templetons' tonight."

Garrick's eyes widened. "Damn it. I thought we had at least a week before the competition got a crack at her."

"You don't even have that long," Warren informed his brother.

Pushing his chair back, Warren took his hat and headed out the door. His mother was on every guest list in town and several in the next few as well. Lorena would have suitors calling before the end of the week.

Jealously speared through him. Hot and irritated, he pushed through the front door of his parents'

home only to find it quiet.

Of course.

His mother knew him too well. Or believed she did. Taking the steps two at a time, he headed for his room. He'd already snuck into a British fort, going to a socialite gathering was just the next level of hell.

"She's British you say?"

The whispers carried across the room. Lorena employed Brigitte's attitude of casual ease. It wasn't hard, the party interested her. Every detail was something undiscovered until now. She watched the flow of the girls' dresses and the way the gentleman retreated to one side of the room, their dark suits making it obvious when two of the girls invaded their male territory.

But both gentler made their way to the dance floor. Every girl had a dance card dangling from her wrist. Some gentlemen hurried from lady to lady to inscribe his name on a variety of cards while others tried to take up as many spots on the same card as that lady would allow him.

Lorena tucked her own dance card into the top of her glove. One gentleman eyed her in spite of that. The few lessons hastily given in her bedchamber had not bolstered her confidence enough to try her steps on anyone's unsuspecting toes. Besides, there was only one man who she was truly interested in being close to. Which meant she was a fool.

"I need some air."

Copying Brigitte's manner, Lorena simply headed toward an arched doorway looking as if she

were in complete control of everything around her. The few people she passed actually swept out of her path.

A smile lifted her lips when she made it to the veranda which circled the house. Doors were set every ten feet or so to allow the air in. Tonight they let the candlelight out. Lorena walked away from the light, her eyes looking up for the stars. Their twinkling light had kept her company for so many nights recently she missed the tranquility.

"I quite agree."

She froze. Not from fear but out of recognition. She didn't know the voice but she recognized something in it. That same core of strength that she could not seem to ignore in Warren.

"Returning home has its draw, but my fickle emotions send me out into the night after a few hours surrounded by my own kind."

Whoever he was, he remained in the shadows. Lorena felt his gaze on her. A tingle went down her neck, but it died before racing along her spine. She turned, searching for him.

What stepped out of the darkness should have startled her. The man was huge. He was dressed head to toe in the most proper fashion of black coat with tails, but it didn't sit on him the same way it did the men inside. This man was stronger somehow, like Warren. The clothing a

feeble attempt at blending in when the truth was, he was unique and suited to more rustic settings.

She scolded herself for making the comparison.

"You must be Miss St. John." He edged closer, his lips curving up in amusement. "My sisters were chattering about you most of the day."

"You have me at a disadvantage, sir."

He studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes striking her as mysterious. "I could only hope to be so fortunate."

"Keep hoping, but that won't be any help to you."

This time the chill traveled across her neck and down her spine. It rippled over her skin and sent her heart to beating faster. Warren appeared from the other side of the doorframe, his stature matching that of her company. They were well suited to one another. Both looking somewhat

misplaced among the sedate dance cards and lace-edged fans.

"Miss St. John doesn't remain off balance for long. She adapts expertly well." Warren captured her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. His lips didn't even touch her skin and still sensation traveled up her arm. His gaze lowered to the slim section of skin that was visible above the top of her glove. A pleased look entered his eyes, and he raised his attention to her face so she could witness it.

"Captain Rawlins. Such a delight."

He frowned at the use of his rank. But their company chuckled.

"I see she does adapt very well. Careful, Warren, I may have to try my hand at unseating you in her affections."

"Really, sir."

He laughed at her again. His hand snaking out to capture hers. Warren moved in a flash, his powerful body sliding between her and the

man. Whoever he was he released her hand with another deep chuckle.

"May I present Jasper Templeton, who is required inside to dance with his sister."

Jasper raised an eyebrow at Warren. They stared each other down for a moment and she actually felt the tension in the air. It was like watching two thunderclouds collide.

"Apparently I am." Jasper offered her a slight bow but the look he aimed at Warren was full of challenge. He turned in a flare of black tails and entered the dance. People moved out of his way instantly.

"Was that quite necessary?"

Warren looked far too pleased with himself. He offered her an expression that was anything but repentant. "With Jasper.. .yes. The man is too charming for his own good."

"Or for your comfort."

Warren shrugged. "Some women would enjoy knowing I was jealous enough to send one of my best friends off in favor of their company."

"You treat your friends rather interestingly. Captain."

She added the last word because she was annoyed. She was happy to see him. Her body rippling with awareness now that he was near.

Instead of becoming irritated, Warren grinned at her. "Keep calling me Captain and I just might feel the need to set sail, with you along. I have business in Northfleet."

"No you do not."

He tilted his head. "You continue to underestimate my dedication to removing all obstacles in my path to marrying you."

"And you still fail to understand that I do not want to be taken care of."

His eyebrow arched. "Really?"

There was something in his expression that warned her to be wary. He stepped closer and she retreated down the steps into the garden. She tried to stand her ground, but couldn't seem to control the nervous need to step away from him when he got too close.

"Stop it, Warren."

"Stop what?"

He moved again, invading the space around her, his scent teasing her senses. Smelling him sent a wave of hot need through her. It raised an image of him completely nude that taunted her with just how good it felt to be pressed against him. It was like she had never really felt anything before. The abundance of sensation so secure, so hot and pleasurable she couldn't go very long without sampling it.

"You're chasing me. Stop it."

His chin lowered. "No one can chase you if you aren't running."

The house was now several paces behind him. "I wouldn't be moving away if you stopped

closing in on me. You're planning on overwhelming me before we discuss anything."

He paused, his face becoming unreadable. Lorena skirted around him, using the moment of

hesitation to place her back to the house.

"You're the only woman I seem to do it to."

His confession destroyed her arguments. He seemed vulnerable somehow. Which was ludicrous

considering how strong the man was compared to her or when one considered that she was

penniless and dependent on his good nature. But he sounded needy and it touched her heart.

"But you are also the only woman I've ever proposed to."

"You only did so out of pity."

The muscle on the side of his jaw flexed. "Sweet Lorena, I've never carried a woman off to my bed out of pity and I hope I never do."

Gruff and sharp, his voice was hard. "Nor do I suffer through these social gatherings very often and the horde of mothers dangling their daughters in front of me like bait. Yet here I am, drawn to you."

"Is that why you persist in offering marriage? It will free you from being hounded?" She frowned, her stomach turning into a knot. "Do you believe I will turn a blind eye to infidelity?"

"What I believe is hearing you ask me to book you passage back to England will test me in a way I hope never to have to face." He held out one hand with the palm up. "Come home with me now.

Place your hand in mine before I kiss you and overwhelm you. Do it because you're honest

enough to admit that's what you want as well. We'll delay sorting out the details until sunrise."

Her hand lifted before she thought about it. Surrender was so simple because all she had to do was stop struggling against her own nature. Right and wrong didn't seem to matter when she was with this man. Not her upbringing, not the house full of people behind her.

Warren had come for her and that filled her heart with joy. His fingers closed around hers, a soft tug pulling her to him. He bent so his lips might find hers, the kiss sweet and soft but full of promise. She quivered, need flickering along her limbs.