Romance: Wanted by the Alpha Lion (A BBW Paranormal Suspense Romance) (Heroes of Shifter Creek Book 2) (147 page)

Greer let out a fake laugh, again, and fairly felt her cheekbones start to crack with the ache of smiling. This was not as good of a time as she had wished it to be. She was tired, her feet ached, and her heartfelt attention at the beginning had started to wane. She looked around for Addy.

              With her neck craned in the opposite direction of her feet, she didn’t even notice the Count come upon her. He bent to whisper in her ear, and Greer gasped and twirled when she felt the warm breath so intimately close.

              The Count somehow lost grip of his wine goblet and its contents poured all over her cream pinafore. Greer felt the warm liquid seep through every gap in the fabric. She didn’t need to look down to know the gown was ruined. Her first thought was annoyance at the Count, first for coming indecently close and surprising her, and second that, for a notoriously graceful man, he had lost his grip quite gracelessly onto the front of her bodice.

              He apologized, and the group made their unhappiness known as he escorted her to the breathing room to ‘freshen up’.

              He offered her his arm and they retreated to the hallway.

              “I really am most sorry, my lady. Sometimes I can be an awful klutz.” Something in the Count’s tone seemed less than genuine.

              She ignored it, and the frustration that was bubbling inside her, and soothed his concern. “Don’t even worry about it for a moment. I’m sure it was clean out quite nicely. My handmaiden is quite gifted at these kinds of stains. I only need to lift it from the fabric as much as possible now.”

              He took her past the breathing room into a suite of bedrooms. Her footsteps faltered as she realized that he intended to take her to his bedroom.

              “Oh no, my lord. I’m sure a retiring room would be just fine. No need to compromise my reputation unnecessarily,” she reminded him. They were both unattached, and eligible. Even a hint of gossip would ruin her, although his scoundrel’s reputation problem would remain untattered.

              “Don’t fret, love. I’ll just drop you in the bedroom and my serving girl will attend to you.” They reached a gold etched door that left no question as to its owner. He tugged it open, revealing similar gold plated furniture and a forest green bed.

              “Sir, I really must insist…” Her statement was broken when he turned quickly and left the room as suddenly as he had come. She breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently her ruin was not paramount to him, thankfully.

              She swished her way to the sink and started to cleanse the hopelessly stained cloth. A few moments later a service girl walked into the room.

              The girl curtsied. “Beg pardon, ma’am. The Count tells me to take your clothing straight away to be cleansed and returned to you. There are gowns in the armoir behind you for you to wear temporarily.”

              Greer felt a pinch of discomfort knowing that these gowns were most likely his paramours’. She declined politely but when it was clear the girl was not to take no for an answer, she finally acquiesced. The maid helped her strip down to her chemise, and then took the clothing away in a whoosh of silk.

              Greer made her way over to the large piece of gold furniture and opened it. She let out a gasp.

              It was empty.

***

Grayson made it home without incident and had proceeded to drink himself into quite a stupor by the time the idea came to him. The Count had unquestionably insulted him. However, he also had connections to any number of eligible women that could pose as a fiancé, and even wife, until his partners were satisfied, Grayson locked into a business contract, and then he could drop her back off where she came from, several thousand pounds richer.

              It could’ve been the drink, or the boredom, or possibly even the thought of losing out on this business arrangement that made him get back in his carriage several hours later and drive right back to where he had left earlier.

              At this point, there was only a handful of carriages left, no doubt the Count’s closest friends and most entertaining of guests.

              His name was announced and he was taken back in the same hallway to the same door he had been at. He squared his shoulders, preparing for the mental battle that would no doubt ensue once the Count realized he was at the advantage.

              What he walked into was nothing that he had been prepared for.

***

Greer turned toward the welcome intrusion, hoping that it was someone coming to her aid. She had no idea how long she had stayed in the room. What felt like hours could’ve been only minutes. Realizing that the Count no doubt was out to ruin her and then return her, she had padded around the hallway in the shadows until she came across a chamber maid. Of a close enough size, she had given the frightened girl all the jewels on her person, including her hair pins, in exchange for the black serving ware she had been wearing.

              Without a way to get home or to notify her family, she had been forced to sneak out. The Count, unfortunately, must’ve had eyes and ears everywhere and noticed her sudden attempt at departure. He had ordered her brought into her study for, of what she could not doubt would prove to be, nefarious purposes.

              She kept her eyes trained on the man at the door. He was large, even broader than the Count. But where the Count had lean muscles built from hours of sword play and gentleman boxing, this man had brawn and sinew built from some kind of hard labor.

              She did her best not to shudder, but when his dark eyes trained on her, she knew he had seen. If this man would not help her, she was doomed. She had a chance against the Count, but this incomer she had no chance of overwhelming.

              “Please,” she whispered. He stepped forward and she held her breath, knowing what this must look like. She had been forced to barter into servant’s clothes. Her hair was a mess from the lack of pins, and the Count’s hand was still squeezing her breast painfully.

              “What’s going on here, Rutherford?” The man’s voice was intense. It was strong and low. She felt the sound whip through her tingling body.

              “None of your concern, Hayward. Just conducting a bit of business with the gel.” His hand squeezed even harder and Greer let out a pained moan.

              “It doesn’t appear she’s enjoying your ‘business’. I’ll thank you to unhand her and we’ll forget about this incident,” he demanded. “I have business to speak with you of my own and I won’t do it with her here.”

              “This is not your home,
Duke
,” he spat. Greer’s ears pricked. A duke? Surely a duke would not overlook the mistreatment of one of his own. She was a viscount’s daughter after all. Her eyes met the duke’s, pleading silently. He face changed, become even harder.

              When he spoke this time, each word was a threat. “Let her go, Rutherford. Or meet me at dawn. Weapons of your choice.”

              The Count seemed to think over his options. The Duke of Hayward was certainly known for his incapability to die in duels. There had been many husbands of lovers, offended brothers, and outraged fathers that had called for his death in that manner. Obviously, none has succeeded.

              Count Rutherford seemed to realize this, and let her go. “Another time, sweetheart.”

              She stumbled towards the doorway, and thankfully landed against the duke’s thick shoulder. His hand wrapped around her waist in support and she sagged against his lended strength.

              They turned simultaneously, now attached. The Count’s voice called after him. “What business did you wish to speak with me about?”

              The duke’s steps hesitated, then resumed. He tossed back over his shoulder. “I will not conduct any business with the likes of you. Not anymore.”

              Greer shivered at the dull coldness of his voice. This was definitely not a man you wanted to cross. And with a title like ‘Duke’, his threats had to carry some significant weight.

              They walked together out to his carriage. He helped her inside. Once he had rapped and the coach had lurched into motion, she swept her hair out of her eyes and waited for his questions.

              They never came. She figured it had been maybe a twenty minute ride before they halted. He jumped down, holding out his arm for support down the slippery steps.

              She looked up at the brown stone they had stopped in front of. It was huge, taking up an entire city block and more. She had thought her own home impressive, but this was something out of the Middle Ages. It was gothic, dangerous, and beautiful. Not unlike its owner.

              Inside, it was just as dramatic. There were pieces of art that seemed more like history than frivolities. Everything was mahogany and black, a stark contrast to the gaudy gold she had just come from.

              His voice cracked through the silence. “I have a proposition for you.”

              Her body instantly tensed. She had already had one ‘proposition’ for the evening. “No thank you.”

              Grayson focused on the voice over the words it had just said. Of course she would accept his proposal. There were hundreds of mamas that had prepared for daughters for moments just like these. True, he had never thought of marriage to a governess, which is what he assumed her to be. Her clothes spoke of servitude, but with her skin and hands too soft to have hand to endure the labor, governess was really the only option.

              Her voice matched her body. It was husky and rich, but undoubtedly feminine. He couldn’t see much through the rags she wore, but her breasts strained against the fabric so she was undoubtedly well-endowed. His cock started to rise to attention and he focused on calming himself. She had just gone through a spot of trauma and was likely still shaken.

              “I believe you’ll want to hear me out. Tea?” He offered, holding out the still-warm teapot from earlier. He didn’t want to involve the servants, on the off chance she did accept his proposal. He needed her servants to see her as the duchess she would be, not as the penniless governess they would see before them now.

              She declined with a shake of her head. “No offense, Your Grace, but I’ve already had one
offer
tonight. I’ll thank you not to force another on me.”

              He admired her quiet strength. This was no meek mouse like he had thought when he had came upon her. “I am the Duke of Hayward. I doubt you have heard details of me, but I am, in most things considered, an honest man. I will not harm you.”

              He could see that she appreciated the sentiment, but had not relaxed fully yet. He tried again. “I have a business arrangement to offer you. If you choose not to take me up on it, I will not press the issue. But I would thank you not to mention it to anyone else.”

              She was definitely curious. He even noticed a light that had come to her eyes upon realizing that this was a proposition,
and proposition
, only. “I assume you have agreed to listen at least.”

              She slowly nodded. He continued. “I have two business partners with whom I am, unfortunately forced to work with; they pushed forward an endeavor for which I care fervently. They are of the notion that an unmarried man, especially one with a title and a need to produce heirs to secure the title, is an unreliable partner. While I understand their reasoning, I can’t say I agree.”

              He cleared his throat, searching for the right words. “However, this does not change the fact that I do need to agree to their terms in any case. And they wish for me to engage in matrimony.”

              He dared not look at her for this part, and instead, focused on the important task of pouring brandy into a snifter. “I am inquiring as to your married state. I assume with the lack of wedding band, and the scene I came across earlier, that you are unmarried?”

              At this point, he did look at her, but only to confirm her hesitant nod before proceeding. “Then I would like to make a proposal. Not one borne of love and passion, but an impersonal business arrangement. I need a wife, for no less than one calendar year. After that time, if my business venture had successfully taken off like I predict it shall, we can procure an annulment and separate. Or, we can continue the marriage but live separate lives.”

              He waited a few moments, but when she did respond, he felt the need to clarify. “I do not feel the need to procreate, but it is a necessity for the title. I will require an heir if we intend to not dissolve the marriage at the appropriate time. Being a duchess will certainly open doors to you that would not otherwise open of their own accord. However, I have no intention of caring for you outside of the way a partner would, and I will not force myself on you. I understand this will force you to lead a very quiet, and lonesome, lifestyle. As such, I will reward you handsomely. I am prepared to offer you forty thousand pounds in exchange for this year.”

              She gasped, and he was relieved that at least he had gotten some kind of indication she had been listening to him. “Yes, I know that is a tidy sum. I want to make sure you are rewarded, and can live a comfortable life after you leave this place. You will not need to lean on arrangements like the one that was presented earlier to you. You would be protected by both my name and my funds.”

***

              Greer was stunned. Too stunned to laugh, too stunned to even cry about the turmoil she’d been in for the last few hours. Forty thousand pounds? That was a fortune. Her family was certainly wealthy, but she doubted she would ever see that kind of money in her lifetime. She could open that shelter for orphans that she’d been dreaming off. Her father would’ve done so if she’d asked, but she had wanted for it to be on her terms.

              She looked again at the man before her. He was undoubtedly attractive. His dark hair was windswept and gave the aura of danger and carelessness which belied his real attitude, focused and alert. He had a hint of stubble but he seemed like the type that always had a five o’clock shadow. His eyes were piercing, almost haunted.

              All in all, he didn’t seem like the sort that would struggle to find a woman to marry. She voiced that opinion out loud in her shock, and he pursed his mouth in a grimace.

              “That may be true, but I have no inkling for a pretend marriage unless it’s truly pretend. My parents had a loveless marriage, and the energy it took to keep up appearances nearly broke both in the process.” He took a breath, more affected than she had first thought.

              She cut off anything he would have said after that. “There would be conditions.”

              He looked back at her stunned. Clearly he had not been expecting that answer. “Conditions?”

              “Well, not necessarily conditions. More like
tasks
.” Greer waited for him to walk away. To refuse. To demand her out of his house.

              “Tasks,” he repeated dumbly. Somehow she got the feeling that the Duke of Hayward was not often put out, and here he was in front of her, practically mute with shock. A bolder female would’ve laughed aloud. Instead, she couldn’t help the small smile which drifted to rest in the corner of her mouth.

              If he saw it, he didn’t comment.
Smart man.

              “Yes,” she continued. “I am a single female in possession of my virtue. I understand this to be sought after highly in the marriage mart. After you, I will be
…tainted
. I will likely not be able to marry again, especially after an annulment.”

              “No offense,
my lady
, but from the scene I saw before, and your position there,” he motioned towards her drab clothing and the speck of dirt on her cheek, “you are not really trying to gain
more
than what I’ve offered. Are you?”

              She paused for a moment. Was she? Not necessarily. She was just trying to make sure he understood that, while he prefer a sham of a marriage, it was unlikely she would be able to marry for love after she accepted this proposal. Although, the freedoms offered to a widow would be a refreshing change from the cloistering dullness of being an eligible female.

              “I’m not trying to gain more. Just gain an understanding of the man that I would be marrying. Is that so hard to believe? That I would not just accept on the spot?”

              He seemed to think about his answer carefully before responding. “Yes, I think it hard to believe that a woman of your…
ilk
, would be negotiating terms of a fairly impressive proposal.”

              Greer tried not to be offended. He clearly thought her a lady of questionable character. Looking down at her servant’s clothes, and the position he had caught her and the Count in earlier, she could hardly blame him. Protesting her innocence would likely do nothing to sway that opinion anyhow.              “Three tasks, my lord. That is all I require to prove that you would be a man that I can depend on.” Had that really just come out of her mouth? Was she really negotiating terms on a proposal to a
Duke
?

              Clearly he was operating under the same umbrella of astonishment. He seemed to gather himself up, and said hesitatingly, “Tasks?”

              “I will not divulge them at this time, but you should know that they will be reasonable, but a man of your station. They will be nothing that will turn you out in fair company, and it would be in my best interest not to do anything that would question your character or divulge you of your finances.” Her mind was traveling a thousand miles a minute. What would the tasks be?