A Touch of Passion (11 page)

He’d thought they were in love. She was in love all right, but only with his money and title. He’d let her manipulate him, and he’d sworn he’d never let that happen again. Now here was the woman he’d have to marry trying to do the exact same thing—for a far better reason, to be sure, but manipulating him all the same. If he gave in here, where would Portia stop?

It tore him up inside, but he stepped back from her warmth and let his arms drop from her body. A feeling of loss overcame him, so painful he almost gave in to his driving need and buried himself in her warmth.

He reached to rebutton his breeches, pushing her hands aside.

“No. Not until we are married. That is the proper thing to do, and you, my lady, need to learn that rules are there for a reason.”

“What better reason to make love when contemplating marriage? My desires count too. What if we are not compatible?”

Christ.
“It will be too late to do anything but marry once we find out.”

She simply shrugged, her naked breasts bouncing delectably with the movement. “If we aren’t compatible, this marriage won’t work. I can’t be a wife to a man who has a mistress—or mistresses, as I suspect it will be in your case. I deserve the right to find what I need in this life. The chance to find loyalty and love in another man.”

His erection died, and a roaring fury raced through his veins. The thought of Portia with another man was something he could neither comprehend nor condone. The irony of his position did not escape him. He didn’t want to want her, but he didn’t want any other man to touch her either. Her threat almost made him decide to take her now, to claim her as his. “If we made love, woe betide any man who tried to sleep with you. You’d be mine and mine alone,” he almost growled.

She gave him a victorious smile.
Blast!
He’d said too much.

“I’m hoping you understand that if I’m to become your wife, I wish to be more than an ornament on your arm, or a woman to bear your children and maintain your home.” She cupped her breasts. “I’m flesh and blood, with feelings and desires.”

Turning, he moved toward to the door. He stood with his back to her, trying to get his emotions and desires under control.

“You want me. I felt it.” Her words were spoken so softly he thought for a moment that he’d imagined them.

“When will you learn that sometimes it is not advisable to get everything you want? Life has a habit of stealing your dreams.”

Then he strode up the companionway, feelings of self-loathing suffocating him. He burst out onto the deck, his chest heaving for fresh, cool air. He knew without a sliver of doubt that he had hurt her by turning away.

His body filled with pain, smothering the ache of his physical need for release. If he couldn’t get his desire for her under control, his ideal of a stable, respectable marriage would disappear in a puff of smoke. Not only that, but he couldn’t bear to give his heart to another. If something happened to Portia, such as in childbirth … No, he could not go through such loss again.

He owed it to his long-dead family and to Robert to try to be the man they wanted him to be. Loving Robert’s sister put in danger what he wished to achieve.

He’d sowed his wild oats, but war had changed him. He’d fought for home and country, a family he’d yet to have, and by God, his family would be a pillar of respectability. He would reach the potential his father saw in him even if it meant denying his true nature. Many men sacrificed more on the battlefield. Robert had paid with his life, but still, with his dying breath Robert had manifested his concern for others, his men and his sister. He would not let his death count for nothing.

Portia Flagstaff threatened all he’d vowed when he held first Robert dead in his arms and then the burned and suffering Christian. Honor, respectability, and a quiet life, serving God and country. He was sure that was why he had been spared.

Anger. Flaming anger.

Portia stood in the tub shivering, feeling ten times a fool. She was ice cold. He’d resisted her. A renowned rake, whose love of bed sport was legendary, had rejected her. Worse still, he would become her husband.

If anyone had told her four weeks ago that she’d end up married to Grayson Devlin, Viscount Blackwood, she’d have thought herself the luckiest woman alive. Now she wondered what she had ever seen in the stuffy, judgmental man.

She took a deep breath and reached for a towel.

She had to make allowances.

The war had changed both Grayson and her brother. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to see men blown to bits, sliced open, or shot. Grayson had held her dying brother in his arms, and then Lord Markham had almost been burned to death. Even Philip was more subdued; the war had certainly matured him.

Grayson had returned to England and rumors had started to circulate regarding his desire to marry. However, Portia had discounted the talk as gossip from hopeful mamas, because the women mentioned as possible candidates were women Grayson would grow bored of within a month.

She looked down at herself still standing naked in the tub. What must he think of her? She’d just proved their previous conversation about how selfish she could be. Demanding what she wanted, to hell with what anyone else was feeling.

Yet panic drove her actions. She didn’t want a marriage to Grayson to be a battleground. It wasn’t fair to either of them, and she knew that living with his disappointment would wear her down. However, she was not going to change for him. He had to learn to love her as she was.

A single tear ran down her face. How did you make a man fall in love with you? Grayson did want her, she knew it. Both today and at the Cyprians’ Ball he’d stopped himself indulging. He’d held himself back from her, and she had no idea why. She wasn’t that awful a person. She had strong views, but she thought she was pretty easy to get along with. She tried to be kind, generous, and tolerant.

She rubbed her chilled body vigorously. How was she going to face him, knowing what he thought of her? Where could she go to from here?

Anger surged through her shivering body—anger at her own behavior, but more so at Grayson. She should have known that a man like Grayson would resolutely stick to his principles.

He was not above proving a point, and his point was that he would expect her to conform. She thought about all she had achieved in her four and twenty years and what she still wanted to do. Her cider business had been her life for the past four years. If Grayson had his way, her chief role would be motherhood. While she wanted children, she also wanted to keep her business going. She’d go mad if the only place she could be was in the nursery.

Stepping from the tub, she wiped the tears from her cheeks. No, no self-pity. Portia vowed she’d try to earn his respect and admiration while making him see that unlike her brother, Robert, he wasn’t dead.

She’d behave like a proper lady if that’s what he wanted, but she would never give up her list of the things she wanted to experience. She hoped Grayson could learn that “proper” and “fun” were not necessarily mutually exclusive.

The past two days had been infuriating. Women—no, scrub that. Portia Flagstaff was such an unpredictable, irrational, and highly annoying creature.

Grayson did not for one minute believe Portia’s complete change in behavior was sincere. She was obviously up to something.

Since her failed bathing tub seduction, which he replayed in his head every night, taking himself in hand to relieve the tension her seduction had inspired, she had been a model of demure respectability. For some reason this irked him.

He hated to admit it to himself, but this quiet, docile version of Portia made him miss the outspoken, confident Portia. God damn it, he was bored. Bored of being on this ship and having nothing to do but lust after a woman who would soon become his wife.

He suspected it wasn’t the done thing to lust after one’s wife, but Portia was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, and since seeing the delights of her body, he wanted her intensely.

However, the necessary special license would be required before he slept with her. He could hardly expect her to change her ways and abide by society’s rules if he ignored them when it suited his needs.

He shook himself and walked another brisk lap around the deck. This feeling of unease was more likely because they were due to enter the Bay of Gibraltar tomorrow. It would be a prime place for an enemy to target them.

Just then, the woman constantly on his mind appeared. He scented her crisp applelike fragrance before he heard her dainty footsteps behind him.

“I noticed we were slowing.” She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare. “Are we nearing Gibraltar?”

“Yes. Seaton and I agreed to keep watch merely as a precaution.”

She nodded. “You’re not worried about the sultan, so you must think our enemy could be trailing us. Has another ship been shadowing the
Amelea
?”

He shrugged. “Honestly, it’s hard to know. The Bay of Gibraltar is a major shipping route.” He didn’t wish to worry her, but yes, a ship seemed to be tacking every time they changed course. He’d made Seaton tack a few times to see if his hunch was correct. The shadow ship even changed course when they headed to the eastern passage into the bay.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to go ashore when we dock. I don’t have enough men to guard you.”

She merely nodded her agreement. “That is a shame. I feel as if I’ve been cooped up for weeks. However, I certainly do not wish to fall into our enemy’s hands once again.”

Grayson noted that was the second time she’d said “our enemy.” “Portia, the enemy is mine, and mine alone. As soon as we return to England I don’t wish you to be involved any further.”

“Don’t you think that will be slightly difficult given I’m to be your wife?”

She had a valid point. His next words would be a test of how their marriage would progress. “If I ask you to stay out of this, to remain indoors or at least guarded, until I can ascertain the identity of the enemy, will you do that for me?”

Only someone who knew Portia well would have noted the slight hesitation and the way she licked her lips—telltale signs of her mind frantically working. “I promise not to give you too many gray hairs.”

“That’s not what I asked you. Gray hairs I can handle, you being in danger I cannot abide. Please give me your word you will not interfere. When we reach port, I shall send a message to my fellow Libertine Scholars on the first mail ship leaving for England. Hopefully we’ll know more when we stop in Calais. Seaton has merchandise to collect, or I’d have said no to another stop. I will have plenty of help when they answer my call, and therefore you do not need to put yourself in harm’s way.”

That pouty bottom lip stuck out again, but she surprised him with a sigh of acquiescence. “I shall do as you say in this matter. However, if I feel I can help I will not be denied, but I’ll come to you first.”

The tightness in his chest eased. “Thank you. I suggest you stay below when we are in port too. I don’t know to what lengths the enemy will go to in order to discredit me. Your death would be a very good start.”

She shuddered slightly but nodded her agreement. “It’s quite a way to start a marriage, isn’t it? I thought life with you might be boring. You seem to want staid and dull as a wifely requirement.” She turned to face him. “However, I suspect you’d be bored to tears with a mousy wife.” She smiled at him slyly. “Why, I suspect you’re even missing my spontaneous side a little.”

“I might be missing your banter, but I need to know you’re safe. That means you have to obey me. Philip and Robert entrusted your care to me. Don’t make me break that trust.”

“Fair enough, but did you ever consider that I could help?”

He frowned. “In what way?”

“Well, I did see the men who kidnapped me. I could watch the dock, and if I see anyone I recognize, I could alert you.”

Her suggestion made sense. At the moment he was blind to his enemy. “As long as you do so from the cover of the deck, with Seaton beside you.”

“Agreed.”

He nodded affirmation. “We should only be here for one day, just enough time to collect enough merchandise for Seaton to make his journey profitable and to take on fresh water, since your bathing seems to have run down our stocks. We’ll sail on the evening tide.”

Portia spent most of the day doing what did not come naturally—waiting and following orders. She’d been pacing her cabin for what seemed like hours. Finally Seaton knocked on her door. “Lord Blackwood has gone ashore with Rush and some of his men. He will guard the gangplank but wants you to walk casually on deck and see if you can spy any familiar faces.”

“Has someone been following us?”

Seaton nodded. “His lordship believes so. However, I don’t believe the ship following us has been sent by the sultan. I’m sure it started trailing us nearer Gibraltar.”

“Does Lord Blackwood think they are the same men who kidnapped me?”

“Or men that work for whoever abducted you. When we reach the deck stay close to me. I don’t want anyone to have a clear shot at you.”

She quickly grabbed a large bonnet and followed Seaton, stepping out of the companionway onto the deck near the ship’s stern. She stopped momentarily to straighten her bonnet and let her eyes adjust to the sun.

After a glance around the immediate area, she tried to appear as if she were out for an afternoon constitutional. She strolled casually along the deck with Seaton shadowing her. She could clearly see the bustling dock below, and her eyes found Grayson’s fine figure with ease.

A sense of panic had stayed with her all morning. It would not be long before they reached London, and she had yet to see Grayson soften his stance toward her. She’d done her best to behave with decorum and to portray the type of lady he thought he wanted, but for some reason he’d grown more distant.

It was so frustrating. She knew he was physically attracted to her, but then, knowing his reputation, he was attracted to many of the ladies in the ton, specifically pretty widows. She’d tried to arouse his desire, and while she had achieved a reaction, he’d been quite capable of resisting. Perhaps she should appeal to him on an intellectual level. Not challenge him precisely, but prove to him that she could be a help to him, an asset when it comes to building a life together.