Chapter Seven
May 26, 1815
Alexander rubbed his eyes with one hand as he stared out the window of the drawing room. In his other hand, he held a snifter of brandy, that had already been refilled twice that evening.
What to do about the problem of Madeline?
She’d run from him last night before the dinner bell had rung, and then she’d taken her meal on a tray upstairs, leaving him alone at the large table, sitting in silence. And then today, she had managed to avoid him each time he was in the manor. Those times they did cross paths, talk had been desultory and without substance. Her eyes were red rimmed as if she’d spent copious amounts of time crying, over what he was too much a coward to ask.
And she had avoided him most of the day.
Oddly, he missed their back-and-forth repartee and conversations, but she was against him having revenge; it was what he’d lived for these past twenty years. Didn’t his parents deserve to be avenged? If he left off with that plan, would it mean their deaths had been in vain?
Additionally, he wrestled with the knowledge that she would sacrifice herself for her bounder of a brother even in the face of certain death by the marquess’ hand, if the history of his previous wives was anything to go on. The concept of such sacrifice was foreign to him.
Or so he’d thought before that damned conversation last night that had hit too close, when she was adamant that he wasn’t a bad man. Hadn’t he made sacrifices with his life for the Navy and then as a mercenary to whomever paid the most?
Hell, those funds tucked away would go far into paying for repairs on this place, but should he use that blood money to benefit his own life?
Alexander drained his snifter and winced as the liquor burned in his throat. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the subtle play of the setting sun over the drive that led to the manor. Even more troubling was the thought that he wished to protect Madeline from both her brother and her alleged fiancé. Perhaps he should even protect her from himself, for he couldn’t rid his thoughts of how her lush body had felt in his hands and tasted on his tongue. Yet how could he let her carry on with her plan knowing it would essentially sign her death warrant?
Or worse.
With a sigh, he hardened his heart. That wasn’t his concern; she wasn’t his concern. The only reason she was here was for revenge, but then, if he ultimately decided ruining her wasn’t enough, he would kill the marquess, which would prevent her from marrying him anyway. That was enough, wasn’t it? But then, if he wanted to do that, there had been no need to kidnap her and bring her here for his depraved purposes.
That made him a blackheart without cause. Not that he cared about that either.
Of course, that meant there was still the brother and his ill treatment of her…
Hot anger filled his chest while desire shivered through his shaft. Damn, but he didn’t want to feel anything except that anger and annoyance. They’d both guided him all these years, but with the advent of Madeline into his life, even for his own questionable reasons, the hold he’d once had on his other emotions was slowly releasing.
Why was she doing this to him? How soon would it be before he broke entirely?
A light knocking on the open door interrupted his musings. With a huff, Alexander turned about to regard his butler. “What is it, Anders?” If there was a growl of annoyance in the inquiry, he couldn’t help it; he didn’t like his thoughts to turn inward.
“There is a Mr. Mulrooney here, from London, who wishes to speak with you quite urgently, it seems.”
“Regarding what?” But he knew . Knots of worry pulled in his gut.
“The gentleman didn’t say.”
Of course he didn’t. Alexander nodded. “Show him in here. I expect he won’t linger long.”
“Right away, Your Grace.” Then the butler’s expression lightened. “Oh, and one more thing. Young Joshua’s cravat is in a much better state today. Thank you for your tutelage.”
A ghost of a grin curved his lips. “That is good to hear. A well-turned knot is sometimes everything.”
In short order, a man of average height came into the room, dressed in the manner of a country squire. “Good day, Your Grace. Apologies for interrupting your time. I am Lord Seaton, and I’m here as the constable for the area.”
“Ah.” So it would begin. He clasped his hands behind his back as he stared at the bigger man, both in height and girth. “How might I help you, Seaton?”
“Well, I’ve had a visit from a man who claims he is a representative of the Marquess of Inglehart. He sent me out here because he believes you have kidnapped his fiancée and might be holding her here against her will.”
“A kidnapping plot? How interesting!” But Alexander shook his head. “I’m afraid nothing like that has happened. I merely came out here to find solitude away from Town as well as to assess the level of repairs this manor house will need in the coming months.”
Lying was easy, of course, as long as Madeline stayed upstairs in her room.
“Then you have no knowledge of the missing Miss Hardesty?” One of Seaton’s blond eyebrows rose in inquiry.
“I do not, and since I’ve only just returned to England from serving my country, I haven’t had time for any sort of a social life.”
That wasn’t necessarily an untruth.
“From what I’ve been told, Your Grace, there is no love lost between you and Lord Inglehart.”
“Are you accusing me of something, Seaton?” One of the good things about being a duke was that his title and attitude could intimidate anyone.
“Of course not. Merely came to investigate the complaint.” The man shifted his weight from foot to foot. “All I know is that this young woman is missing and the marquess wants her back, quite desperately, in fact.”
I’ll wager he does if he is aware of the ruby she mentioned.
“Well, she is not here. You are welcome to search the premises if you don’t believe me.” He narrowed his eyes on the other man, daring him to do that exact thing. “In the meanwhile, I’ll ask that you leave, for Inglehart has many enemies. Go search for the missing woman elsewhere.” He escorted Seaton to the door. “There is every possibility Miss Hardesty doesn’t wish to marry him and has essentially run away.”
“That was my concern as well,” the bigger man said with a nod.
“Ah, good. It’s unfathomable that anyone with working faculties would blindly wed the marquess given the rumors swirling around him.”
“Thank you for the insight, Your Grace.” Seaton’s expression told him his words were true enough, but it didn’t bring him relief, for Madeline didn’t deserve that sort of life.
Not even for the love of family.
“Well, if you should happen to see her, please send a messenger ‘round to me. The search will continue until Miss Hardesty is found.”
“I will be sure to do so. Good evening, Seaton.”
“Same to you, Your Grace.”
Once the man left the room, Alexander was hard-pressed not to put a fist through the wall. Instead, he merely hurled his brandy snifter into the cold fireplace, grunting when the glass shattered. He was now lying to local authorities and protecting a woman he had to right to have any sort of feelings for.
What the hell is happening to my life?
Would Madeline take dinner with him tonight?
Since he’d not seen her for the bulk of the afternoon, he didn’t know her plans, and because he’d felt a touch sorry for himself, he’d drunk more than was probably good for him, but then he’d had years of practice and could hold his liquor.
To a point.
With a pleasant buzz that made him perhaps braver than he truly was, he trailed through his rooms, changing into the half dress he’d become accustomed to since arriving at Ravenhurst Hall. Who did he have to look respectable for? The fine lawn shirt had been freshly laundered and pressed. It was cool against his skin, while the fawn-colored breeches were his favorite, for they showed his thighs to best advantage. Was he vain about his appearance? Yes he was, but only for tonight; he wanted the chance to impress his guest. Perhaps then she would thaw toward him.
Once he donned a waistcoat of red satin embroidered with black swirls, he shoved his feet into newly polished boots his valet held. To finish his toilette, he’d allowed Akers to trim his beard as well as his hair so that he wouldn’t appear quite so scandalous and unkempt.
“Did you wish to talk about this sudden attention to your appearance?” the valet asked with surprise stamped on his face.
Heat crept up the back of Alexander’s neck. “Not at the moment. Perhaps in a couple of days.” His shrug only lifted one shoulder. “Besides, I couldn’t explain it if I tried.”
The other man nodded while the candlelight glimmered in the threads of silver in his dark hair. “Very well, but know this. I had barely been your valet before you were taken away. When you returned, I was encouraged when you didn’t sack me, but there is only so much one man can carry by himself.” He clapped a hand onto Alexander’s shoulder while holding his gaze. “If you wish to talk and help sort yourself, I am here.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” Where previously he’d thought his staff hated him, he now thought they were concerned about him but didn’t know how to approach him. “I might do exactly that in the coming days. Meanwhile, I must track Miss Hardesty to earth.”
Had she escaped the manor after she’d already told him she would stay? Panic rose in his chest, and it was such an unexpected feeling that he gasped from it while Akers moved into the adjoining dressing room. And why the devil did it bother him so much? He’d already ruined her, so part of his revenge plan was complete. He didn’t need to continue spending time in her company.
Did he?
Not wanting to analyze his thoughts or dig through the wealth of feelings trapped deep down inside him, Alexander set off through the manor in search of the woman he’d kidnapped. When he couldn’t find her and the servants that he spoke with hadn’t seen her in a few hours, that initial panic built in his chest. Swiftly moving to her bedchamber, when he went inside, a modicum of relief went down his spine to find her belongings still there, yet what if she didn’t wish to take anything with her when she fled?
Did she truly not trust him? Not that he blamed her; he didn’t trust himself either.
The sun was fully set by the time he’d gone outside. No doubt he was a fool to look forward to sharing dinner with her, for it wasn’t as if she were a guest; she’d been forced to come here, yet he hadn’t demanded that she spend all her time with him. Perhaps he should have, for truth to tell, he was a tad lonely, but not for just anyone’s company. Oddly enough, he craved hers, in many different ways, and above that, he wanted to know why.
Clearly, it was a sign his mind was fracturing further and leading him into insanity.
Eventually, he found her at a stream that crossed the west portion of the property. It was about a mile away from the manor and a wooded area separated his estate from the nearest one on that side. The river fed that stream, and he remembered it from his past: fresh, clean water that constantly moved and wound through the woods, went past an old moss and lichen-covered folly. When he’d been a child, he used the ornamental building when he pretended he was a pirate or even a king.
But none of that mattered, for the only thing that held his attention was Madeline, for she sat perched on a large boulder in the midst of the stream. Bloody hell. He pressed a hand to his chest as it tightened exponentially. No doubt she’d been bathing, for a shift was the only garment she wore, and it was completely wet and plastered to her body leaving her curves on display and nothing to his imagination. As he watched her from his hiding place in the woods, he raked his gaze over her form again.
The caramel waterfall of her hair hung down her back and over her shoulders, clearly damp and just washed. As she combed it out—belatedly he spied a willow basket filled with a bar of soap, a sponge, an ivory-handled mirror that matched the comb she held, and a ribbon for her hair, along with a pair of stockings spilled over the side andher clothing dropped upon the grass nearby—she sang a lovely aria from a popular opera.
And what was more, her voice was amazing.
The soaring words in her clear, sweet mezzo-soprano seemed to come from a wood sprite, and she sang as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her, much like breathing. A few times, she struggled to hit high notes that a true soprano would reach, but he admired her pluck and determination to keep trying, and each time she did hit them, she would smile as she sang, and that by itself was something as beautiful as her voice. He could hardly breathe as he lingered in order to keep listening; the sound of her voice touched something deep within him he couldn’t explain or understand, yet it soothed his tortured soul, and it made him long to be free.
Of everything. So much so that he selfishly wished to have more of it.
And her.
But none of that would happen if he continued hiding amongst the trees. As he came away from the safety of the darkness and shadows, he whispered her name. “Madeline.”
A slight gasp escaped her throat, and immediately, the delicate yet powerful sound of her singing ceased. How mournful were the woods and the night without that bit of joy. “Alexander. What are you doing here?”
“I came out to find you.” Once more, he could hardly breathe, but it didn’t have anything to do with her singing this time. No, it was fully because of her and how damned stunning she was, sitting on that boulder, her wet shift clinging to her skin that had been scrubbed to a faint pink. “After our talk last night, and feeling that you’re deliberately avoiding me, I…” How the devil to finish that sentence?
“I needed some time away to sort my thoughts, and the best place to do that is out here, in nature, on the land I was familiar with as a young girl.” While she continued to run the comb through her hair, she moved her gaze up and down his form, and when her regard lingered on his face, he cleared his throat. “You’ve tidied yourself.”
“Well, you more or less ordered me to do so.” As if a duke would do such a thing… like he did, because it might please her.
God, what a nodcock I am.
And he wasn’t disappointed, for when she offered him a soft smile, awareness shivered over his skin. “I did. Jolly good, then.”
“Well?” Oddly, he wanted to know if she liked his new, tidied hair.
Madeline snorted. “You are … distinguished now, with the silver bits in your hair and the opportunity to see a hint of your jawline now that the beard has been trimmed.” She nodded. “Quite lovely.”
“I could say the same to you.” Was that too bold? Too out of character for his character? After all, he’d had her kidnapped and used for revenge against his enemy.
Around them, as the night took hold, the sounds of the nocturnal world awoke with chirps, scurrying, and the occasional grunt or croak. The constant gurgle and rush of the water in the stream both empowered him and calmed him, while the scent of growing things and earth brought him back to the times when he would walk the acreage with his father.
“You’re in your cups, aren’t you?”
Well, she was nothing if not observant. He made a sound that was a mix between a snort and a chuckle. “While it’s true I have spent the afternoon and part of the evening with more brandy than a man should imbibe, I am not drunk. Merely stupidly bold and quite randy with my commonsense having fled completely.”
“Ah.” She paused in the act of running the teeth of the comb through her hair.
“I’m impressed your maid put those things in your one bag.”
“She didn’t.” Madeline’s smile had the power to separate him from reality. “Your housekeeper brought these things to me, because she thought I might have a need.”
Of course his staff would overstep their bounds, but then, he hadn’t exactly kept her a prisoner.
“Why are you here?”
Alexander shrugged. “I wanted to find you, and since you weren’t in the house, I figured you might have…”
“You feared I’d fled even after I said that I wouldn’t.”
“Yes.” There was no sense in denying it. “I wouldn’t have blamed you. I am—”
“Talking entirely too much,” she interrupted with an elevated eyebrow. “For a renegade duke bent on dark revenge with dubious consent from me, I don’t understand your sudden need for rambling. For the past two days, you have been a man of action and intent, shoving aside my qualms and protests for your own interests.”
Surely, she wasn’t hinting that he should drag her off into the foliage and have his wicked way with her. Yet she hadn’t run from him, and after their talk from yesterday, she wouldn’t have berated him unless she was truly worried about him.
It made no sense, yet the old forgotten kernel of hope buried deep in the wreck of his heart cracked up and put forth a tendril of new growth.
“Alexander?”
“Yes?” He wrenched himself from his musings with a shake of his head.
“Are you quite well?”
“Not for years.”
This was the end of the third day of his revenge week, and he’d wasted far too much time already. Imagine him giving into soft feelings and emotions. They’d nearly distracted him from his mission and purpose that had been building for twenty years. Damn it all, but he would bed the woman tonight—perhaps twice—in an effort to make certain she’d become impregnated with his child, thwarting the marquess in that too. Though, that came second to imprinting himself on her mind and her body so that when she laid with Inglehart, those times would be lacking.
At the end of the day, I am a bastard and a devil. I need to remember that.
“I would caution you not to run off again. There are far too many dangers out here, especially since the constable came ‘round earlier.”
She gasped. “Did my brother send him?”
The hope in her voice tore at his chest, and he forced down a hard swallow while toeing off his boots. “No. The marquess.”
“Why? He cares not a whit about me.”
“Perhaps not, but he certainly wants you for some other desperate reason, and if I had to guess, he’s heard the rumors about your ruby.” As he spoke, Alexander struggled out of his waistcoat, and once it had been dropped to the grass, he yanked his shirt up and then off his body. “Or else he’s merely a prick for suspecting I was the one who took you in this twisted game we’re playing, for the man is guilty as sin.” He threw his shirt to the ground.
“Would he go to that much trouble just to retrieve me when blabbing the horrid truth of my brother’s business dealings is easier?”
“Who can say, but it’s no doubt eating him alive to know that I have you, that I’m doing lewd things to do, while he can’t, and he won’t receive a virgin bride.” He stepped into the spring, gasping at the coolness of the water, then gingerly made his way over to her boulder. Then plucking the comb from her hand, he tossed it to the grass on the bank near her basket. “Either way, he’ll need to get himself off tonight while I’ll do so by claiming you.”
Yes, this was what he needed and what he must remember. Being this bastard, playing the part of the monster for revenge. It was what he was comfortable with instead of delving inward to muck about with feelings and emotions that would make him weak and ineffectual.
“So crass, Ravenhurst.” When she made to leave her perch, he grabbed her arm and then settled on the large rock behind her, his legs framing hers and his frontside flush to her backside. He slipped an arm about her waist, keeping her anchored. “Let me go.” She squirmed, and each movement had her body brushing his to centralize that earlier awareness. “You haven’t earned such intimacy today.”
“Ha.” He gave her earlobe a light bite, and when she gasped, he growled, for he wanted to hear that sound again. “If I remember correctly, I didn’t take advantage of you last night after I shared a tidbit of my past, so I’m doing that now.”
There you go, Ravenhurst. This is the man you are. Act accordingly.
“I should have put a time limit on such things, but then, I didn’t think you wouldn’t be a gentleman after we talked.”
“Yes, well, we all must face disappointment at some point.” The warmth of her body so close to his was as addictive as opiates. “And, after all, this is the reason you are here.” He put his hands on her breasts, easily encouraged her nipples into hard points beneath the thin, damp fabric of her shift.
“Of course. Heaven forbid you might have changed your mind about that.” Though annoyance threaded through her tone, there was also a hint of anticipation as well. She wasn’t as immune to his touch as she wanted him to believe.
Cheeky woman. She wasn’t blinded by his title or his foul attitude, and she certainly wouldn’t have let him touch her if she wasn’t of the same mind. His respect for her on all those things rose, for she wasn’t in the usual ton style at all. Thank the gods.
“When a woman who has caught my interest is concerned, my intent won’t change.” He rolled her nipples from root to tip and was rewarded with a gasp and a soft moan.
“As long as it’s in the bounds of revenge, correct?” One of her hands drifted to his leg and she clenched her fingers into him while he continued to torment those pebbled buds. “It would be too much to hope that a man so high on the instep within the beau monde would find a woman such as me.”
Did she truly think her curves and her scar were flaws keeping her from the best of what life had to offer? Then his eyebrows rose. Is that the real reason she was marrying Inglehart? Because she didn’t think anyone else would offer for her?
He didn’t answer in words, for how could he? After having already established her purpose in his life, could he change his mind, and if he did, to what purpose? After he’d gotten his revenge on Inglehart, he didn’t plan to remain on this mortal coil. There was no future for him, even if he might be open to thinking about one.
Not wanting to woolgather again, Alexander concentrated on giving her the pleasure she would never have from the marquess. When her other hand landed on his opposite leg and she arched her back each time he tweaked or squeezed her nipples, he grinned. Damn, but she was so responsive, like a kitten who couldn’t have enough attention, and it brought home just how neglected she must have been once her fiancé died.
“Never think you aren’t good enough, Madeline,” he whispered against the delicate shell of her ear as he slowly drew up the hem of her shift. “If a man can only see you as an object for his pleasure, then he isn’t the one for you. Which is how Inglehart will treat you, and that’s being generous.” The marquess wasn’t exactly known as a renowned lover.
Her breaths became pants. “Isn’t that what you are doing?”
“Hell, no.” Gently, but with firm force, he urged her legs apart. “If I were like him, I wouldn’t work to see you come undone, wouldn’t try to make you fly while I conducted your ruination.” He pressed feather weighted kisses behind her ear and beneath her jaw. “And I certainly wouldn’t wish to have you hit release as many times as you can each time we’re together, hmm?”
By the time he slipped a hand between her thighs, she was fairly humming her approval. His fingers glided over her wet folds as he parted that flesh in the hunt of the hidden button at her center. Hell, but he craved her, wanted to taste her, spend hours doing nothing but kissing every centimeter of her skin, pass the night doing nothing except fucking that gorgeous, lush body, but that would need to wait for some other time.
For now, they were here, on this damned boulder, so he would make the best of it. Over and over, Alexander manipulated that slippery nubbin, and with each pass of his fingers, Madeline squirmed against him. Sounds of pleasure and approval emanated from her throat. She restlessly plucked her fingers at his thighs and hips, and when he used his free hand to roll and pluck a nipple, her back arched, which put her more fully into his keeping.
“Alex…” More panting breaths swallowed up whatever else she would have said.
And he was in danger of being lost. Every sound she made, every time she inhaled, each gyration of her hips as she bucked against his hand brought him closer to his own point of no return, but he gritted his teeth and ignored his own discomfort. This woman who had a misplaced sense of familial honor, who wished to save her bounder of a brother by throwing herself into the clutches of someone even worse was rapidly becoming an… unforgettable part of his life, at least for this week.
It took little effort after that to send her over that edge into bliss. As she writhed in his hold, he couldn’t have enough of her breasts, her nipples, or sending her over the edge yet again. When she slumped backward against him, her body shaking with residual contractions, he chuckled. Madeline made him feel alive again, and oddly enough, needed for more than being an emissary of someone else’s will.
I haven’t had that in a long time.
“Come.” When he slipped from the boulder, she nearly fumbled to the ground, but he caught her, helped her find her footing. “I cannot do everything I wish to do in this awkward place, as peaceful though it is.” Taking her hand, he led her over the soft, cool grass and into the wooded area, never stopping until they reached the folly that loomed in the darkness.
Though her steps were distinctly wobbly, she followed easily enough. At the crumbling tower, she didn’t speak until he’d brought her into the building’s shadow and pushed her back against the moss-covered stonework. “What do you want to do?”
“First, this, then claim you for as many times as you will let me tonight.”
She looked askance of him. “I thought you weren’t in the habit of asking for permission, Ravenhurst.”
God, she was sharp. “Don’t become too used to it.” Then he crushed her into his arms, kissed her with so much passion he was afraid it might betray the feelings he wouldn’t allow himself to access, kissed her so intensely he wouldn’t have to think any longer.
Kissed her as if his life depended on it.
Perhaps it did, for in her he’d glimpsed a chance for redemption, which he’d never thought he might want until he’d met her, yet he hadn’t a single clue how to accomplish that, not with everything he still needed to do.