The Beloved Scoundrel

  “Did I? Actually, I don’t believe I ever said your company bored me. I only said I found the game boring.” He nudged his horse abreast of hers on the trail. “And this particular game is growing less boring and more uncomfortable with every passing day.”

  He was obviously mocking her, and she was finding it surprisingly painful. Her gaze returned to the castle. “Why don’t you have a fondness for it? It’s your home.”

  He shrugged. “A home is just a place like any other.”

  It had not been so for her. She had passionately loved the cottage where she had been born and raised until that night of horror. “Did you not enjoy your childhood here?”

  He lifted his brows. “Are you trying to search out my secrets?”

  “You shouldn’t object to questions. You ask me and Alex enough of your own.”

  “True.” He was silent a moment before answering lightly, “I regret to say I have no gloomy secrets to impart. My mother departed this life when I was only two, and I was indulged by all and sundry. Every servant in the castle vied in an attempt to thoroughly spoil me.”

  “What of your father?”

  “Oh, he indulged me too. When he had time. However, it was difficult to find a few minutes to spare when he was determined to become the greatest drunkard and libertine in all of England.” He smiled crookedly. “He might have succeeded, but he broke his neck in a fall from a horse when I was only twelve. What a pity.”

  “You didn’t love him?”

  “I probably loved him at one time. Why not? He was quite an engaging fellow and a fine example. After his death I threw myself into a similar quest for the ultimate in debauchery. I would have succeeded where he failed if I hadn’t been distracted along the way.”

  “By what?”

  “Not what, who. Gregor burst into my life.” He reined in before a stream and dismounted. “You see how open I’m being? I’m lowering all my shields.”

  His defenses were still very much intact, glittering like beautiful faceted glass, but she was surprised he had been this frank with her. “Why?”

  “To show you how harmless I am.” He paused. “And to encourage you to lower a few defenses of your own.”

  “I have no intention of doing so.”

  “It’s necessary,” he said soberly. “If we are to live here together with any civility.”

  Together. The word sounded startlingly intimate.

  “I know I angered you on board the Seastorm.” He patted his horse’s neck while the animal drank. “My behavior was abominable.”

  “Abominable. But I’m sure that is quite natural for you.”

  “Quite natural.” He smiled coaxingly. “Forgive me, and I’ll promise to reward you very generously.”

  It was the first time he had smiled at her since that night in his cabin. “I don’t want any reward.”

  “Of course you do. Everyone wants something.” The offhand statement was made with absolute assurance.

  “Has that been your experience? That everyone wants something from you?”

  He smiled cynically. “I’ve been as rich as a nabob from the day I was born. Before I left the nursery, I learned what’s expected of me in the way of favors.”

  She felt a pang of sympathy for that little boy who had never known love without price but immediately dismissed the momentary softness. That child might have deserved pity, but not the man who stood before her. “And I’m supposed to seek out these favors?”

  “Why not? It’s to your advantage to bargain with me. You’re in a very vulnerable position. I can make things very pleasant for you.”

  “What would you give me?” she asked curiously.

  An undefinable expression crossed his face. It was foolish of her to think it might be disappointment. “Whatever you like. Diamonds? Women usually like a bit of flash.”

  Whatever she liked …

  Her glance shifted back to those forbidding towers.

  “Tell me,” he said. “Ladies usually aren’t this shy about making their demands known.”

  She was sure there had been many women who had been in a position to meet his demands with demands of their own. The thought sent a flare of unreasonable anger through her. “That’s because men seldom allow us to reach out and grasp what we want ourselves. It’s considered both unwomanly and unnatural.”

  His gaze narrowed on her face. “Is that what you prefer? I have no objection to yielding to such aggressiveness. I’ll be happy to accommodate you.”

  “You mean you’d accommodate me by giving me what should be mine by right?”

  He shrugged. “I regret that I cannot change the way of the world.”

  “Not my world.” She looked back at the towers. “I … I … don’t want to go there.”

  He went still, his gaze on her face. “Where do you want to go? London?”

  “London?” She looked at him in bewilderment. “Why would I want to go there?”

  “Shops, theater, masked balls … and, of course, all the lovely little trifles a woman wants and needs.”

  “I wouldn’t know what to do with them.”

  He was silent a moment and then slowly shook his head. “No, you probably wouldn’t. I’m afraid I’m guilty of trying to place you in the role I want you to play.”

  She scarcely heard him, as she nervously plucked at her horse’s mane. “I’d like a cottage of my own. Just a small place for me and Alex.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t let you reside outside the castle.”

  “You said I could have anything I want.”

  “I lied. It should be no surprise to you, considering your opinion of my character.”

  “You offered me diamonds,” she said desperately. “A cottage would surely cost less than diamonds.”

  “You’d be too vulnerable outside the castle walls. I hope Nebrov won’t discover you’re here, but there’s always a possibility.”

  She smiled bitterly. “And you can’t risk him taking me away from you.”

  “Any more than you can risk him taking Alex.”

  “It isn’t the same. I love Alex, and you care nothing for either of us.”

  “Don’t I? Then you must put up with my arrogance and surliness and teach me. It’s not an entirely impossible task. Gregor did it.”

  “I have no desire to teach you what comes naturally to others.” Her hands clenched the reins. “Very well, I will live in that … that place, but I must have a workroom and tools and freedom to work with no interference.” She gazed defiantly at him. “I’m sure you will make no objection to that. It’s why I’m here.”

  “No objection at all,” he said quietly. “But you still haven’t told me what you wish as reparation.”

  She gestured impatiently. “Work is a gift. I need to work.”

  “Do you?” He studied her flushed cheeks and the tense line of her mouth. “I believe you do. Then of course you shall have it.”

  “At once?”

  “Why not?” He kicked his horse into a trot. “I think it’s an excellent way to make you realize that you have only to ask, and I’ll supply your every need.”

  Alex came running toward her across the courtyard as soon as she and Jordan rode through the gates. “The horses are beautiful, Marianna. All of them! Gregor says Jordan invites half of England here for races every spring.”

  “London,” Gregor corrected. “I fear even Cambaron could not accommodate half of England.”

  “We’re going to be here for the races,” Alex said. “You should see the stallion Jordan purchased from the Berber sheikh.” He frowned. “What’s a sheikh?”

  “I’m sure Gregor will be glad to explain,” Marianna said. She was certain Papa had mentioned these sheikhs, but she could not remember. For all she knew there were Berber sheikhs running all over this dratted England.

  Alex’s eyes were blazing with excitement. “You’ve got to see all of the horses. Come on, I’ll show you!”

  “Not now,” Gregor said as he lifted Ma
rianna from the saddle. “I’m sure your sister has had enough of the smell of horses for one day. Let her go to her chamber and rest.”

  “Rest?” Alex stared at him in bewilderment. “Now? Why would she want to do that?”

  “Perhaps you could take Alex to see the racecourse we’ve laid out in the south pasture, Gregor.” Jordan took Marianna’s elbow. “While I introduce Marianna to the servants and show her to her chamber.”

  He stood there, perfectly at ease. He belonged in this great castle, wielding power, dispensing favors or vengeance as it suited him, as his ancestors had done for centuries before him.

  Power.

  The flesh of her arm tingled beneath his hand. She felt suddenly suffocated, overwhelmed. She had to escape. “I’m sure Gregor can do that later. I want to see the stable.” She shook off Jordan’s grip and grabbed Alex’s hand. “Come show me, Alex.”

  Jordan’s hands slowly clenched as he stared at Marianna and Alex running across the courtyard. “What are you waiting for?” he said roughly to Gregor. “Go after them.”

  “Presently. It will take Alex a while to show her through that first stable.” Gregor watched the two disappear through the stable doors. “She is afraid.”

  “Yes.” Jordan gave him a sardonic glance. “But not of me, I assure you.”

  “A little of you. It’s a new world, and you are king of it. You must make it easier for her.”

  “I tried.” He glared at him. “What the devil do you want from me? First, you insist I distance myself from your dove, and now you want me to come closer.”

  “Not too close. You must walk a fine line.”

  “I’m not good at balancing on tightropes. Do it yourself.”

  “I will do my part.” He smiled. “You were very good on the Seastorm. I thought perhaps I had lost you that night.”

  “I’m glad I earned your approval. It’s my heartfelt goal in life.”

  “Why are you so angry with me? You would not have done as I advised if you had not known I was right. You would have kept drifting until it was too late.”

  And Marianna would have occupied his bed on the Seastorm and here at Cambaron, Jordan thought. The drifting Gregor spoke about would have culminated in an inevitable coming together. He would have found a way to seduce her, lure her. He would have taught her to please him, to open her thighs and welcome him into that tightness that he had been thinking about since Gregor had told him he couldn’t have it. Dammit, he was hardening now at the thought as he did every time he saw her. “Did it ever occur to you that’s what I wanted to do?”

  “Yes,” Gregor said. “A part of you, the part that was the decadent boy you were when I first came to Cambaron.”

  “That boy is still very much a part of me.”

  “But he is controlled by the man you are.”

  “Is he?” He looked back at the stable. Control had little to do with what he wanted to do to and with Marianna. The more he held back, the more intense the lust, the more erotic the imagining. “Don’t count on it, Gregor.”

  “I do count on it,” Gregor said serenely.

  “Suppose I decide that it would be easier to make Marianna do what I want in regard to the Window if she’s trained to please me in other ways?”

  “It would not be a fair decision, and you are a fair man.” Gregor started across the courtyard. “But I think it would be best if you visit Madam Carruthers as soon as possible. You have been without a woman too long.”

  God knows, that was true. He had fully intended to slake that lust as soon as he reached Cambaron. He would go visit— Dammit, he did not want to visit Laura Carruthers with her lush body and the insatiable appetites he usually found amusing. The thought was not at all appealing.

  And neither was the task he must perform now, he thought grimly. He must talk to the servants and pave the way for Marianna with Gregor’s lie, put her in a position where seduction was impossible.

  No, not impossible, just more difficult. If he chose to circumvent the barriers, he could do it.

  If he chose …

  This is Mrs. Jenson.” Gregor smiled at the plump gray-haired woman. “She is most kind and will be glad to serve you in any way you wish. How are you, Jenny?”

  “Very well, Mr. Damek.” She smiled. “Welcome to Cambaron, miss. We are all saddened to hear about your loss in that heathen country.”

  The woman was curtsying to her.

  Heat flooded Marianna’s cheeks. “Thank you,” she said weakly.

  “And where is the poor bereaved lad?”

  She must mean Alex. “In … in the stable.”

  “We couldn’t get him to leave the horses. William will care for him and bring him a little later,” Gregor said.

  “Yes, William Stoneham’s a good man.” She curtsied again to Marianna. “His Grace has instructed me to take you straight to your chamber. Will you come with me?” She did not wait for an answer but moved brusquely across the hall toward the wide stone staircase that appeared to stretch to heaven.

  The housekeeper’s words echoed hollowly off the high arched ceiling of the hall. Marianna carefully avoided looking around her as she followed the housekeeper up the steps. She had already had too much to absorb in the two hours she had been here. Cambaron was more a kingdom than an estate with its magnificent stables and carriage barns and now this dark cavern of a castle. There were more men and women here to serve one man than there had been in the entire village of Samda.

  Mrs. Jenson said, “I’ve assigned Mary as your maid. She’s young but very willing.”

  Maid? She cast Gregor a wild glance, and he smiled reassuringly. “Perhaps we will let Miss Sanders serve herself for a time. She is shy of strangers.”

  “But she must have—” Mrs. Jenson’s glance encountered Marianna’s, and she smiled gently. “Of course, it will take time to overcome the memories of such a terrible ordeal.” She proceeded up the stairs. “In the meantime you must only give a tug to the bellpull, and someone will come.”

  She would rather jump from the top of this gigantic staircase than pull that bell, Marianna thought fervently. She wanted only to hide in her chamber and close everyone out until she could become used to the vastness of this huge place.

  They were now going down a long, dim hall lined on either side with portraits of all sizes and descriptions. “These pictures are of His Grace’s family,” Mrs. Jenson said as she noticed Marianna’s interest. She pointed to one large painting of a bearded man in hip boots and a jerkin that was puffed at his hips. “That was Randolph Percival Draken, the fifth Duke of Cambaron. He was a great favorite of Queen Elizabeth. She stayed here several times, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know.” But she wasn’t surprised. Elizabeth and her entire court would probably have scarcely been noticed in a castle of this size.

  “And that is his lady.” She pointed to a small, daintily formed woman in a gold-encrusted gown and a wide pleated ruff encircling her neck. “The duchess was considered one of the most beautiful woman of her day.”

  The woman she had indicated was pleasant-looking, with a pouty mouth, wide blue eyes, and tightly curled golden hair. “She’s very— Who is that?”

  The housekeeper’s gaze followed Marianna’s to the portrait a few feet down the hall. “Oh, that’s His Grace’s mother. It was painted a year after she came to Cambaron.”

  Marianna stepped closer to the portrait, searching for a likeness to Jordan. Even in the dim light, the full-bodied woman in the picture seemed to glow with life. Her shining black hair was darker and curlier than her son’s and pulled back from her face by two emerald clips. Her eyes were the same green and tilted slightly at the corners. Tartar blood, Marianna remembered, Jordan had said his mother had Tartar blood. She wore a full-skirted green velvet gown that flattered her tall, strong figure, but the garment somehow seemed wrong. The woman should have been wearing something else.…

  “She was a foreign lady, a very foreign lady,” Mrs. Jenson said reservedly,
then looked at Gregor apologetically. “I beg pardon, sir, I know she was one of your people, but she was not like you. She was more like His Grace when he was a bit younger.”

  “She was only seventeen herself when this was painted.” A faint smile curved Gregor’s lips as he stood looking at the portrait. “And you are right, she was just as wild as Jordan and just as compelling of affection.”

  “Some found her so.” It was clear the housekeeper had not.

  “She was from Kazan?” Marianna asked.

  Mrs. Jenson nodded. “None of us had ever heard of the place. She was attending a school in Paris, and His Grace’s father brought her back to England with him when he came home from his grand tour. There was a good deal of talk about the duke marrying beneath him.”

  “Everyone in Kazan thought the same thing,” Gregor said. “She was a noblewoman of Kazan and therefore higher in estate than any Englishman. I assure you, that if she hadn’t eloped, she would never have been permitted to marry Draken.”

  Mrs. Jenson looked faintly shocked. “Not permitted to wed His Grace? I can’t believe that, sir.”

  “You were here when she came?” Marianna asked. “You remember her?”

  “Oh yes, she’s not a woman one forgets,” Mrs. Jenson said without inflection. “In the three years she was here before her death things were most unsettled.”

  “She means Ana liked her own way and would move heaven or earth to get it,” Gregor said with a grin. “She probably turned the castle upside down.”

  “Most unsettled,” Mrs. Jenson murmured as she moved down the hall. “But His Grace’s father was heartbroken when she died.” She threw open a door at the far end of the corridor. “This is the Blue Room. The little lad’s room is just down the hall. I hope this will be suitable?”

  The large room was as dark and overpowering as the rest of the castle. All the furniture, from the enormous four-poster bed, draped in dark blue velvet, to the armoire against the wall, were crafted of gleaming ebony mahogany. A large desk with massive curving legs occupied the space directly in front of a long, narrow window that permitted only a weak strip of light.