Her Ladyship's Companion (14 page)

“Mr. Tarsin had some business to attend to in the office. He said he’d be along in a few minutes. Sends his apologies,” said Edgar.

Lady Dorothy snorted. “Just what sort of business is so urgent it takes him away from the middle of dinner? Miss Rivenwood, you go down and bring back my errant nephew to me, will you? I refuse to allow him to monopolize Sir Adrian.”

Edgar mentioned timidly, “I believe it was something rather important.”

“Pooh. Business he can handle in the morning. Besides, what possible business could he transact with that fribble Adrian? No wonder the art of conversation is dying. I refuse to submit to it. Go and fetch them to me at once, Miss Rivenwood.”

Melissa went. This was no doubt an excuse to separate her from Anna’s open antagonism. It was tactfully done, but Lady Dorothy had no way of knowing Melissa would rather face Anna than Giles.

Melissa steeled herself, straightened her backbone, and entered the library. The two men were bent over a map spread out on the desk. They looked up. Giles smiled, and something inside Melissa quailed. How unconcerned he was. If it came to a battle of wills between them, she was no longer certain of winning or even of holding her own.

“Lady Dorothy requests your presence,” she said with pointed formality, turning to go.

“No. Don’t leave. Not at all necessary.” That was Sir Adrian, coming toward her. “I was just going myself.

Overwhelming need for a cup of tea. I’ll just pop up and stroke the dear old bird’s rumpled feathers down.” He took the door handle from her politely. She had to move into the library to let him pass by her.

She couldn’t understand why Lady Dorothy called him a fribble. His eyes, as he subtly crowded her farther into the room, reminded her of nothing so much as the eyes of some ageless stone satyr come upon suddenly in the depths of the woods.

“Well, come on in, Miss Rivenwood. I’m not going to eat you.” Giles was vastly amused. Melissa resented it. Not much more than an hour ago, in this very spot, he’d behaved abominably. Was the man incapable of shame? Or did he simply consider the incident so trivial that he could ignore it altogether?

To turn and go now would have smacked too much of retreat. Besides, the door was firmly closed behind her. Melissa needed an exit line, something devastating. “I
have nothing to say to you,” was her weak effort. Not devastating at all. Still, it would have to do.

When she tried to turn, Giles caught her wrist and held her there.

“Stay a moment, please.” It was phrased as a request, but his hold upon her made it an order. Melissa looked wary and angry. She was trapped. “Hear me out, at least. I promise to do nothing drastic. This is hardly the place, is it?” He asked in a friendly manner, “Would you accept an apology?”

“No!” Melissa snapped in spite of herself. “I would not.” Still held, she turned her face away from him.

“I was afraid of that.” He didn’t sound even faintly regretful.

There was an amused quirk to his mouth as he studied the averted face of the girl. He admired the smooth, creamy curve of her neck, the graceful sweep where her satiny black hair was drawn away from her forehead. She was like one of the elegant black swans that lived in the ornamental pond, taking scraps of bread disdainfully from his fingers, so distant, so untouchable.

“It’s just as well. I hate to apologize. Especially for something I don’t regret.” His hand wandered up her arm and began to caress her shoulder casually. She shrugged the hand off and tried to back away, but she could feel her insides turn to jelly. She knew she should turn and run this minute, but pride held her still. She had no intention of letting him see how he affected her. She breathed a little more rapidly.

Giles smiled again. “You’re quite safe with me, Melissa. Relax. I’m not going to attack you, regardless of the provocation.”

“Provocation!” Melissa gasped and looked at him in outrage. “What possible provocation have I ever offered you to use me as you did?”

Giles carelessly brushed his fingers lightly across the nape of her neck. She shivered. “Miss Rivenwood,” he said, “luckily you have no idea of the provocation you constantly present to me.” He was laughing at her again. She could see it in his eyes and looked away. “Would you like me to make you a promise?”

Giles turned her to face him. Confused, not knowing what else to do, she sullenly permitted it. His hands, palms hard and calloused from riding, slid across her arms. “On my honor, Melissa, I promise that you will get no light seduction from me. Does that reassure you?” He lifted an eyebrow quizzically at the angry expression on her face.

“Seduction? Seduce me, sir?” she hissed at him. He was so blasted sure of himself. “I’d like you to know that I, in turn, have no intention of being seduced. What do you think 1 am?”

“It’s inevitable, you know,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Being what you are. If not now, then later, in your next position or the one after that. It will happen surely as the sun rises. If I’m fool enough not to keep you, someone else will, willing or unwilling, once you’re away from my protection.”

Melissa wrenched free, spitting like an avenging fury, and faced him, hands on hips. “Some protection,” she scoffed, white-faced. “You would find, sir, that I don’t yield my virtue up to the first comer. Not by force and not by pretty words. I’ve learned enough here to keep me out of trouble for a long time.”

Giles nodded admiringly. “Very nice. What book did you get that from?” He laughed harshly. “You little idiot. People like you shouldn’t be allowed to wander around loose. What choice do you suppose you have? Little schoolroom mouse. What did they teach you about men or passion in your silly London school? You don’t even know the first thing about yourself. When I think what might have become of you if you hadn’t come here ...”

“I wouldn’t have been exposed to
insult!”
Melissa cried.

“That was no insult, Melissa. I might have chosen a better time, certainly.”

“Better time! If you think that
anytime
you want to—”

“Melissa!” Giles clamped two steel-strong hands on her shoulders and held her still when she would have turned and run.

She reached up and slapped him hard across the cheek.

Giles pulled her ruthlessly into his arms and forced her face up to meet his. His hand was behind her head, tangled in her hair. She had a dizzying glimpse of his face, his eyes hard and angry. Then he pressed his lips against hers.

She was caught off-balance. As she felt herself falling backward, she instinctively grabbed at his coat. Her hands felt the soft material, and underneath, the bands of iron-hard muscle. There was anger and shock and fear and the bewildered thought that she’d never dreamed he was that strong.

Melissa tried to wrench away from him. The contest was unequal. She twisted in his grasp. Her hands pounding against his chest might have been beating on a statue, implacable and immobile.

And worse than that, her body was betraying her. As Giles held her against him, she was overpowered by a feeling of warmth and weakness. Her resistance, her thoughts, her resolution to keep struggling were whirled away from her as if she had been overcome by strong drink. Sharp, tingling shocks shot through her as he forced her lips apart, then her teeth. Her body was responding to his.

Without thought her lips became soft and pliant beneath his. She closed her eyes and yielded further to his insistent kiss.

A traitorous part of her own mind was whispering seductively above the clamorous protest: Don’t think about it now. Let it last just another minute, and then start fighting again. Don’t think. Just let it happen. That voice inside her became louder than all the others and silenced them.

As from a great distance Melissa felt the discomfort of her neck and back as she was arched back, pressed brutally against Giles’s straining body. The thought of escape had fled from her mind, so caught up was she in the deep, warm, sensual darkness. Her hands clutched at his coat.

Giles’s hands stroked up and down her body. Supple and sensuous as a cat, she shivered beneath his touch, her body overwhelmed by new sensations. When he caressed her, she moved to meet his touch.

Then, suddenly, she was released, half falling against a shelf of books. She shrank back, weak and trembling, breathing deeply. Disappointment swept through her, and then shame. She gasped in anger, her eyes stinging with tears of humiliation.

“You sneaking beast!” she stammered. “How
dare
you?”

Giles just watched her. He leaned against the mantelpiece, negligently rearranging his cravat. If he felt any chagrin, he hid it well. His face held amusement, with perhaps a touch of sympathy. “Is all this because of what I did or because of what I didn’t do?” he asked ironically.

Melissa could not pretend that she didn’t understand. She backed away from him. “I loathe you,” she
said in a shaky whisper, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I despise you.” She had difficulty forcing the words out of her painfully constricted throat. Melissa tried to stop the trembling of her body. “I thought you were a gentleman. But you’re not. You’re a ...” She searched her limited vocabulary of invective for a word bad enough.

“I am a gentleman, Melissa. I let you go.”

“No... no gentleman would have... would have.,.”

“I am also a man, Melissa. But I’ve promised not to seduce you. Don’t cry.”

“I won’t be seduced!” Melissa spat hysterically.

“You really have no say in the matter,” he said gently, smiling down at her. She remained perfectly still as he walked slowly toward her. Gently, gently he put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her close. “Do you?” he asked, gazing deep into her eyes.

The blood pounded in Melissa’s head. After a minute she abruptly became aware of the fact that she was simply standing there, held in his arms, raptly staring up at him. With a thrill of fear she cried out and ran. This time Giles made no effort to hold her. She fled.

She slammed the library door behind her. Tears were streaming, unheeded, down her cheeks. She tasted them and wondered what the salt was. She seemed to feel the touch of his lips again. She wondered if she’d ever be free of it.

* * * *

Sir Adrian, who had not, after all, been able to tear himself wholly away from the library at such an interesting time, lounged in a shadowed corner of the hallway as Melissa ran by. Very distantly another door slammed, this one in the corridor leading to Melissa’s bedroom.

She was, he concluded sapiently, in a tiff.

As Adrian entered the library, Giles was standing stiffly, frowning out the window. Then he picked up a bouquet of roses in a flowery china vase and with a heave threw it out the casement. It crashed on the walkway below.

“Damn,” Giles enunciated emphatically.

Chapter 12

Stay where you are, Cissy. Life out in the great wide world is infinitely more complicated than I ever imagined.

Excerpt from the letter of Melissa Rivenwood
to Cecilia Luffington, August 3, 1818

Melissa stumbled through the halls, seeing them waver through her tears. She scarcely knew where she was going. Only instinct kept her feet moving toward her own room.

Someone was in the hall behind her, following her. She panicked. Giles had come after her! She began to run.

“Wait, Miss Rivenwood. Please wait.”

It
wasn’t Giles after all. Melissa stopped reluctantly and turned. It was Harold.

“You’re crying,” he said in distress, his face a study in concern. “What’s the matter? Can I help?”

Melissa wanted only to be left alone. She shook her head mutely. But he was there, pale and kindly and distressed at her agitation. She couldn’t snub him.

“You’re crying,” he said again, as if the sight moved him deeply. “Someone has made you cry.” With a very practical gesture of sympathy he began patting the pockets of his claret-colored jacket. “I have a handkerchief here someplace. I’m sure I do,” he said distractedly.

Despite everything, Melissa had to give a watery smile at that. The man was such an odd combination of childishness and mature kindness. “It’s not necessary, thank you. I have my own.” She produced it.

“What’s the matter?” he asked humbly. “Surely there’s something I can do to help.”

“Nothing. It’s nothing at all. I have a ... a headache,” she said. “Please just excuse me. I’ll go to my room and lie down.”

“Of course you shall. That’s just the thing. Come along now, and we’ll go up to your room. I’ll have the cook send up something to help you sleep. A good, long sleep, that’s what you need. It’s the best thing for ... headaches.” He put his arm around her and gathered her in next to him like a mother hen scooping up a chick.

At that Melissa broke down again. She was ashamed of herself, leaning on him and sniveling, but he was the first soul in that monstrous house who’d shown her any kindness at all. Right now she was greatly in need of some sympathy.

He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “There now, it can’t all be that bad.” He stroked her hair chastely, obviously trying to suppress his embarrassment.

Melissa straightened and sniffled. “You’re very kind,” she mumbled wetly. She dried her eyes, blew her nose, sniffled again, and got herself under control. “I’m very sorry,” she said at last. “This place is turning me into a sniveling wreck. I don’t usually act so much the fool.”

“We’re all foolish sometimes,” he said comfortingly. “It was Giles, I suppose, Yes. Of course it was. Who else? He’s insulted you.” Harold gave a long, drawn-out sigh. “I wish I could make you understand how little he means by all this.”

“My own stupid fault.” Melissa tried to shrug casually and made a wretched job of it.

“No. It’s Giles. He can’t keep his hands off ... That is …” It was an obvious effort to be charitable. “He has a ... a light way with women sometimes. Difficult to deal with. Even Miss Coburn, who was a superior, sensible sort of woman, used to ...”

“Please. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Certainly. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, only to help.” He looked absurdly like a puppy that had been scolded. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”