Destitute On His Doorstep (12 page)

His brother rose to bid her goodnight. When they had arrived it had been a disagreeable shock to discover not only that Francis had another unexpected guest, but that it was the daughter of the man Bilborough had belonged to before sequestration. In Richard's experience, such things were productive of more headaches than it cured when the person was a Royalist and no doubt a footloose and flighty piece. His opinion had quickly changed on meeting Jane Lucas, and now he was absolutely charmed by her. A slow smile of admiration swept over his face as he beheld the regal young woman.

‘It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance, Mistress Lucas, and I hope you will soon feel better. I also hope that you will continue to favour us with your presence for the time we are at Bilborough.'

His words threw her off balance. Her big dark eyes
flew to Francis. She thought she saw his lips twitch, but when her narrowed gaze searched his face, he seemed to be regarding her with polite concern and nothing else. Her artificial smile faltered, but she recovered quickly enough to say, ‘Thank you. You are most kind.' After bidding Elizabeth goodnight and nodding stiffly to Alice, holding her head high, she swept out of the room with all the dignity of a young queen.

Without appearing to do so, Francis had watched Jane all evening, amusement often tugging at his lips. Her manner had been alarmingly superior, so much so that he had begun to think her eyebrows had taken up permanent residence halfway up her forehead. She had been behaving in an exceedingly ladylike way, her manner sometimes demure and sometimes gracious, her smiles looking very much like they had been stuck on with pins. And she had been more than a match for Alice's barbs.

He was no less awed by her beauty than his brother was, he was simply more skilled in hiding it. Unfortunately he was not nearly so good at concealing his feelings from himself. To be sure his increased pulse rate whenever she was near affirmed his deepening infatuation.

Pushing back his chair he rose. ‘Excuse me. I'd better go after her.'

B
efore Jane reached her chamber she paused before a mirror fastened to the wall and stared at herself. In the light of the candles' glow she scanned her pale, strained face and her eyes, which were filled with a new expression, a kind of hunger, a hunger that had nothing to do with Bilborough. She desired Francis, she thought bitterly. In her innocence and naïvety she'd had no idea this would happen when she'd decided to temper her attitude towards him, when she'd smiled and flirted and told him he could kiss her. In her arrogance she had thought to keep herself immune, that she was strong enough to keep herself safe.

Then she had met Alice and seen the way she looked at Francis, and that was all it had taken. She knew jealousy for the first time. She was trapped. He had caught her. She must leave Bilborough, go somewhere to gather her thoughts and rebuild her defences.

Outside her chamber a sound made her pause and turn and she saw Francis approaching her, his tall figure
dark in the shadows. It was impossible not to respond to this man as his masculine magnetism dominated his surroundings, but she would not show it. For her own preservation she must not.

He cocked an eye at her, the flames of the candles wavering and setting strange shadows dancing around them. Her lithe graceful form was more tempting in her simple gown than any woman he'd ever seen dressed in velvet and adorned with jewels. Yet somehow simply looking at Jane robbed him of caution, and perhaps a little of the uncompromising honour he prided himself on.

‘I'm sorry you decided to leave us so soon. I hope the evening has not proved too taxing for you.'

‘Not at all, but I am tired and my head is aching.'

‘So it had nothing to do with what Alice said about your stepmother being a witch, or about you feeling indebted to me?'

‘No, not at all, although I did find her remarks offensive. I did not intend my response to be so verbose, but I could not overlook the offensiveness of her remark.'

She had her back to the door, and when she half-turned to push it open, Francis leaned past her to do it for her. But his hand brushed against her arm as he did so, and a tremor ran through her. He was aware of it and smiled, moving closer to her as she pressed herself against the door that he had failed to open. A curious sharp thrill ran through her as the force between them seemed to explode wordlessly.

‘I am sure that was not her intention.'

‘I beg to differ. Alice has a vicious tongue. She meant every word. I am an outsider here—a Royalist,
to boot—and while I thought I would be treated as a guest, I am sure I saw her surreptitiously make the sign against evil when we first met.'

His eyes captured hers. ‘You are my guest, Jane, and you will be treated as such while you remain here. So, if I were to ask you to have done with this war you have against me, you would?'

She stared at him uneasily. ‘War? What are you talking about. I—thought we were friends,' she remarked.

‘It is my dearest wish, but I am no fool, Jane. I know what you are playing at. I know you have set yourself a strategy to batter my defences with an assault on my emotions in order to regain Bilborough. Do you admit it?'

Defeated, she lifted her chin, and unable to tell a lie, she nodded. ‘Yes—I do and I do not regret it. But that does not mean that I am not ungrateful for all you have done for me.'

‘So if I were to beg for a truce you would consider it?'

‘Beg?' She met his eyes levelly. ‘You, beg?'

A smile tugged the corners of his mouth. ‘Why not? It is not beyond me—and neither is this.'

Without giving her the chance to object he put his gloveless hand under her chin and forced her mouth up to his, placing his other hand against the door at the side of her head to prevent her escape.

Taken completely off guard and in no mood to be mollified following Alice's rudeness, Jane was outraged and resisted. ‘Please let me go! I may have given you leave to kiss me earlier, but that was then and this is now.'

He chuckled low in his throat. ‘It's time you had a
lesson in playing games, my sweet, one that will make nonsense of all your false declarations to stand against me. If you play with fire, you must be prepared to get burnt.'

‘I'm willing to take the risk, now please let me go.'

‘Then there's only one way to stop you, little Miss Wildcat,' he said under his breath, and his lips covered hers, stifling her voice with a demanding insistence that stunned her into immobility.

Like an alarmed rabbit captured in a trap, her body struggled against his as he held her pinned to the door, her lips clamped as tight as a vice, but he was hard-muscled, tall and vital and in perfect physical condition, and in no mood to be crossed. They were both stubborn and she fought as if her life depended on it, until her strength began to fail and she found herself not wanting to fight any longer.

For no good reason, a warm melting pleasure spread through her, and all tension and will-power were drained out of her as she became lost in a haze of nameless longings. When she ceased to resist, his arms settled more easily around her. He raised his head from hers and looked down into her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were closed, the long and curling lashes dark against her flesh. Sliding his bare fingers through her hair on one side of her head, he set his mouth on hers once more, his parted lips crushing hers, sliding insistently back and forth, urging hers to part—the moment they did, his tongue slid between them, plunging into the sweet, soft recesses of her mouth.

Passive and exhausted, Jane lay in the circle of his arms as her whole being seemed to burst into flames,
sensations she had never imagined overwhelming her. The feel of him, the warmth and the smell of him, all combined to transfix her, to reassure her and his lips became softer and more eloquent, hungrier and more insistent, moving against hers with his accomplished, persuasive mouth, and then sliding softly down to touch the skin above the neckline of her dress, moving over it so gently that she felt no more than the harmless whisper of a caress. She had no experience of men, especially one as powerful as Francis Russell, and she was lost.

And then he found her lips once more and she felt her body begin to tremble, quietly, independently, in a way that was completely strange to her, as if all her muscles were melting inside and out. The kiss was long, deep and measureless, a kiss unrelated to time or space, past or future, something magical and mystically complete. Neither of them had any idea how long it lasted, but it was Francis who had to find the strength to end what he had dangerously begun. Lifting his head, he dropped his arms and stepped back, once again in perfect command of himself.

Jane opened her eyes, shining black in the dim light. She was horrified by what had just happened, shocked and bewildered by the feelings he had evoked inside her, feelings she had never known existed. There was, it seemed, an alchemy between them, and she was certain it could only lead to disaster. She should never have let things go this far.

Fixing her hostile gaze on him, she glared at him, fully expecting him to lay the blame for this entirely unseemly kiss at her door. ‘How dare you kiss me like that? How dare you take such liberties? You might have
taken my home, but I did not come as part of the property. Perhaps forcing me to kiss you makes you feel better and in control.'

He drew a long, audible breath, holding it a moment before he said, ‘You kissed me back.'

‘Reluctantly—and I might have known you would say it was my fault,' she said angrily. His mobile mouth twisted into a grim smile and Jane had the fleeting impression that he was struggling for composure. ‘Although after being a soldier for so long and starved of decent female company, perhaps you could not help yourself so I suppose I must feel some compassion for your need. And I am not a wildcat. If there is anything that resembles an animal here it is you. I struggled because I was trying to protect myself from you.'

‘How noble of you,' he jeered, ‘to sacrifice your precious lips to me. But contrary to your opinion, even a beast like me is capable of some discrimination and restraint. Contrary to what you think, Jane, you kissed me with the same passion I kissed you.'

Drawing herself up straight, as if to fend off Francis's remark, she stepped aside from him since the door prevented her from stepping back. ‘I've decided to leave tomorrow. After this I think I must. But however long it takes I shall be back—as mistress of Bilborough Hall.'

He was facing her again, much more closely than she liked, and as she turned slightly, intending to open the door, his hands once more clamped down on her shoulders.

‘That will never happen,' he said, his eyes glinting down into hers. ‘It is not possible, so give up this
madness before it destroys you and turns you into a hard and bitter woman. Where Bilborough is concerned, I have the upper hand—as I do in everything.'

Jane's eyes, her face, her whole being fighting him, she said, ‘Have a care, Francis. You are too sure of yourself and the people who depend on the estate for a living. They may not tolerate for long being ruled by a Roundhead upstart.'

Francis smiled thinly at the intended insult and when he spoke his voice was like ice. ‘Is that a threat, Jane? Does the once-proud owner of Bilborough make so bold as to threaten me—to put a spoke in my wheel?' He laughed. ‘It will be interesting to see you try. I did not realise you are of a vindictive kind.'

‘I wasn't, until I came here and met you. It would seem you bring out the worst in me. Vengeance is mine. I will repay what you have done to me and mine—though they are dead.'

Francis felt his heart turn. The fire in her rose. He could see it in the colour in her cheeks and her flashing eyes, and suddenly the charade ceased to be tolerable. And then he had her in a grip that pinned her against him once more, so that she could feel him hard and avid against her, so that she would remember him in every detail.

‘Enough,' he bade sharply. ‘You have verbally insulted me for no other reason than I bought an empty house. That it once belonged to you is unfortunate, but it's time you accepted the loss fate has dealt you and got on with your life.'

Jane struggled against him. ‘Never. Let me go, you—you brute.'

‘Not until I'm ready.' His embrace tightened about her until she thought he would crush her, and as his mouth clamped over hers once more, she fought frantically to free herself. But this time the contact was brief. Francis put an end to the embrace as suddenly and decisively as he had begun it, removing his lips from hers, though his body not so suddenly. ‘Arm yourself, Jane. No amount of protests or young girl's wiles will keep you safe from me. If I want you, I will have you. I promise you that.'

Anger rose within her, the dark eyes flashed at him. ‘I will not give up on what is mine,' she said stubbornly.

‘You challenge me?'

‘What is life without a challenge and what greater challenge can there be than to pursue that which rightfully belongs to me and achieve the greatest reward of all—total victory?'

‘That
you will never do.' Francis thrust her from him and stepped back. His voice was mocking and his eyes gleamed sardonically though he was still white-lipped with anger. ‘I bid you goodnight, Jane,' he said, bending over in the mockery of a bow, ‘and sweet dreams. Make the most of it, for this will be the last night you spend at Bilborough, and just in case you have the idea of taking independent action of any kind against me, then I shall be compelled to take action of my own. You will not like it. That I promise you.'

 

By the next morning, Jane still had not been able to put Francis's earth-shattering kiss or the anger that had erupted between them out of her mind. Sitting in the window seat beside Scamp, she stroked his head while he wagged his tail with the pleasure of it. Watching him, she thought again of Francis and her stomach knotted
as she compared her own innocence to his hard worldliness. She was like an unweaned babe against a man like him. How could he have held her and kissed her as if he were trying to devour her one moment, and then be so cold and angry the next? She didn't understand him and nor, she sighed, did she understand herself. She told herself that what had happened had not been her fault so she had no reason to feel angry or guilty. But she did, and she shuddered with shame for her willing participation in the kiss. Her jealousy of Alice had angered her and because of it she had directed it at Francis, which was something she regretted, but she would miss the easy camaraderie that had developed between them in the short time she had known him.

 

On coming face to face with Jane when she was crossing the hall from the kitchens, Francis was abruptly reminded of the feeling of those soft lips against his. He remembered her responsiveness to his kiss and the incredible surge of hot desire she had ignited in his body. Remembering how it had felt to hold this beautiful, idealistic, intelligent yet headstrong girl in his arms, he tried to deny the feelings coursing through him the memory revived. This was insane, he told himself. He scarcely knew her and he was no young swain who fell for a woman at first sight. And yet that was exactly what he had done, and there was not a damned thing he could do about it.

His weakness made him angry, and when he looked into her eyes, that lazy, mocking grin of his, which seemed naturally inclined to curve across his handsome lips, had not diminished in the least. ‘Why, Jane, I see you haven't gone yet,' he remarked, his eyes casually
flitting over her. ‘I thought you were in a hurry to leave my sight and my house.'

‘My house,' Jane stubbornly reminded him, all her antagonism revived by his goading mockery. She would have screamed it at him in fury and called him every foul and insulting name in her limited repertoire had she not thought he would merely laugh at her and make her feel foolish. Glowering at him with dark eyes fairly snapping fire, raising her skirts, she stalked up the stairs.