His to Hold (Regency Scoundrels Book 1) (5 page)

Her heart began beating erratically, as he reached for her arm. She stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” his voice was sharp. “Since you’ve insulted my honour, I do believe I might have to treat you in kind. You believe I lack all honour, so, why should I treat you like an honourable man would?”

*****

Mallory did not like the troubling silence that followed his empty threat. He kept staring down at Elizabeth, expecting her to retort with some clever, and cutting reply. But she merely kept her head downcast, and walked obediently by his side.

He didn’t like this side of her. It made her seem more dangerous than when she was hissing and spitting at him like a wild cat. He pushed the door of her cabin open, and waved her inside.

Once inside, she moved straight over to the bed, and plopped herself down upon it. She stared up at him, closed her eyes and puckered her lips, waiting for him to kiss her. He frowned, and instead swaggered over to the dining table. He took a long hard look at her, as he sprawled into a chair.

After a few moments, she opened up her tightly squeezed eyes, and turned to look at him. She tilted her head, obviously trying to figure out what he was up to.

“I thought perhaps, that I would have a talk with you, first,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t want it all to happen so quickly that I’d make your head spin.”

Her nostrils flared angrily, and he knew that he was slowly goading her to go into one of her fits. Crossing her hands demurely in her lap, she turned her gaze away from him, and stared at the wall. Flexing her fingers, he watched the determined glint enter her eye. Obviously, she was intent upon giving him the silent treatment.

“Come over here and join me,” he invited, watching avidly, as she bit on her lower lip. His voice had dropped, and he knew that the huskiness of it had to be affecting her. “You have a beautiful singing voice, why don’t you grace me with it? I would imagine that you can play that pianoforte as well. I would love to hear it.”

Again, she stared stiffly ahead, as if someone had suddenly turned her into a prudish old spinster. “I could show you a world of pleasure.” His voice was laced with promise, and he could see by the way that her shoulders slumped, that she was slowly giving in.

“I do not sing for you,” she snapped, whirling her body around to face him.

“Ah, more is the pity.”

“If you are going to forcefully ravish me then you had best get to it. And while you sleep, I shall smother the life out of you.”

“I confess that I shall never tire of your fiery passion.” Smiling, he winked playfully at her. That did it. She was over the edge. She bounded across the small space, and was lunging for him, when he caught her.

Their mouths were so close that he could easily claim her ripened lips. But he knew as soon as he kissed her, she would recognize him. The night of the masquerade, he’d been sporting a full-grown beard, and the mask he’d worn had shadowed his eyes. He had worn the costume of a fairy prince, but his sister Gemma had declared that he’d looked more like a swashbuckling pirate than a prince.

As soon as he kissed Elizabeth, he would betray himself. Her memory would be jolted, and there would be no returning from what he had caused. Of course, if their intimate encounter had met nothing to her, if she was as easy with the men, as she was with throwing out insults, than she just might not remember him.

Her breath came in short, rapid gasps, and he yearned to kiss her. This was the greatest test in self-control that he had ever had to master.

Instead, he kissed her lightly on the tip of her perky nose. Her skin was so pale, and contrasted sharply with her raven black hair.

One curly strand of her blue-black hair slipped down and fell across her forehead. He brushed it away, a shiver race through him, as he touched her creamy white skin.

“You shall most certainly be the death of me,” he muttered.

“May I have your word on that, sir?” Her fiery brown eyes twinkled, the fight drained from her body. He released her, but kept a wary eye on her. She fell into the chair across from him, and stared at him in expectation. “I should have thought that you’d already be on top of me.”

“Then, you thought wrong.”

He reached inside of his jacket, and caught the flicker of fear in her eyes.

Bless her heart. She actually believed that he was still going to hurt her. He smiled reassuringly at her, and plunked the deck of cards on the table in front of her. She looked down at the cards, and then stared back up at him, a question shining in her lively eyes.

“What do you propose to do with those?”

“I propose that you teach me how to use these to my advantage.”

She furrowed her brows, still not certain of what he meant. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“You, miss, are a most formidable gambler. Do not deny it.” She licked her lips, and then looked disheartened to have been so easily figured out. “Teach me how to win.”

“If I do, shall you leave me in peace this night?”

“If I feel like it,” he drawled out.

She peered at him intently, let out a long shuddering sigh, and reached out for the cards. She began shuffling them, and then stared up at him.

“What shall we wager?”

There was a hopeful glint in her eye that made him wary. Obviously, she sought to surprise him by duping him into an unwise venture.

“Do not think that you shall trick me into that. If you teach me, and take my mind off of seducing you, then you’ll keep me out of your bed for another night. But have heart dearest, for we shall not be betting on anything, for I would surely lose.”

Sighing, she stared at him. “You, sir, take all of the excitement out of the room. You’re like an old hen at a lively soiree.”

“If you are craving excitement, I could show you pleasures that you have only dreamt about. I could suggest another game, but then, that game would involve tearing off your clothes. So, what’s your poison? Shall it be cards or lustful ravishing?

She groaned, and looked away from his searing gaze. Her face was flushed, and she fanned herself with her hand, before casting her luminous eyes back on him.

“What game do you wish to learn?”

“I wish to learn the game you are playing.” He knew that she was hiding something, and before the night was out, he would have it all out of her.

Her eyes darkened, as she expertly shuffled the deck, ending with a weaving shuffle. Slowly, they returned to their normal colour. She was pretending to be ignorant to what he hinted at, even though her foot was tapping restlessly on the floor.

“Whist it is,” she concluded, cutting the cards.

“You do realize this is highly unusual to be playing without a partner, do you not?” She eyed him warily, as she tried to discern his motives for forcing her to teach him whist. She was partial to almost any card or dice game, and had even dabbled in the ancient ancestor of Whist, known as Ruff and Honours.

His gorgeous blue eyes dazzled, as he reached for his thirteen cards. “Course.” She flipped the last card up, indicating the trick that they would be playing. “Besides,” he continued, “one day you shall be my gaming partner, and I shall be assured of never losing. With your luck and quick wit, I’d be hard pressed to lose.” His compliment spoken so easily, sent a blush racing to her cheeks.

“We could always play piquet or vingt et un,” she remarked, furrowing her brow. She didn’t really want to play any game with him, as she based most of her playing skill on chance, intuition and dumb luck, rather than on a certain winning strategy. “And if you have a set of dice in your pocket, we could always go for a friendly game of Hazard.”

“A friendly game that has bankrupted many a gentlemen. If whist is your favourite choice, then whist it is,” he pressed, smiling broadly at her. “Besides, it is a game filled with tricks, much as you are.”

She let out a loud and prolonged sigh. “And, as to becoming your partner, you, sir, are under a severe misapprehension. I shall not be your gaming partner, or your partner in marriage, so you may remove that foolish idea from your…” she trailed off, as
The Valiant
rocked, and sent her careening to the floor.

Rafe flung himself at her as the ship bucked again, and broke her fall. She landed sprawled on top of him in a most undignified manner. The loud racket of cannon fire shattered the stillness of the night. She gasped, as he placed his hands around her narrow waist. Her heaving breasts were naught but two inches away from his face, and they were in danger of falling out of her corset. She protectively placed her hands over her bosom, and grunted when he helped her to her feet.

He stared over at the fallen furniture and the deck of cards that were strewn about.

“Seems as if we’ll be playing a game of pick up fifty two later on,” he muttered. Straightening his jacket, he reached for his greatcoat that had fallen with his chair to the floor.

“Allow me to accompany you,” she urged. Another ear splitting blast rang through the night. By the sounds of it, the cannonball had narrowly missed them.

“Certainly not. You will remain here where you are safe.”

“And what will your conscience do if I am blown to smithereens?”

“It shall not happen. Whether you want to believe it or not, I am rather proficient when it comes to sea battles, as are my men.”

“Why would I believe that? Your tales of your heroic exploits on the High Seas, might just be that, tales.”

“I was at Trafalgar, Miss Elizabeth,” he shot back, stunning her into silence. He didn’t slam the cabin door this time. Instead, he quietly closed it.

She stared at the door for a long moment, and wondered why he had revealed that part of his life to her. He’d told her he had fought for the British, but to know that he was a veteran of that infamous battle. Well, now, he had earned her admiration.

She pressed her hand to her stomach, and tried to figure out why it was no longer rolling even when the ship was rocking to and fro. Drat the man, he had to have put a tonic into the water that she had gulped down.

A slow smile broke her frown. She rummaged inside of her chest for a cloak thick enough to protect her from the nightly chill. She glanced toward the wall that connected her cabin to Rafe’s and shrugged her shoulders. She knew he wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity, so he could not stop what she was about to undertake.

She dashed to the locked door, and slipped a pin from her hair. Within seconds, she heard the lock slide back. He did not know anything about her. If he did, he’d have tied her up before he left the cabin.

She staggered out into the corridor, and quickly made her way up the steps to the deck. It was teeming with hands, and she spotted Rafe at once. He was helping some man back to his feet. She concluded that it was the aforesaid Ethan, when the man slapped Rafe familiarly on the back.

A squall of monumental proportions was working itself up and a haunting melody was being carried on the bustling wind, it reminded her of a siren song. She pushed her way past several people, and then the ship lurched again. She skidded down the ship straight toward Rafe. He caught her in his arms, and scowled down at her. He was livid. He kept a protective arm around her shoulder. She looked out into the frightening darkness, but could see nothing through the thick mists that had suddenly draped across the landscape.

“Who are the fiends that are attacking us?” she asked breathlessly, as he snorted loudly.

“No one anymore. We made short work of them. They are in Davy Jones’s Locker now. They were a band of enemy pirates. And let me tell you, if I didn’t have such an escort traveling with us, they could have almost given us a run for our money.”

“Thank God, for simple blessings.”

“Aye. I’d warrant that I would have won either way. I may do very poorly at the gaming tables, I never lose when there is a true battle to be fought, especially when it is a battle at sea. That is why you must give up on your dreams of escaping me.”

His eyes had darkened to a steely cobalt blue, and both of his hands now gripped her shoulders tightly.

The man that was presumably Ethan, came up behind Rafe. She had, up until now, only been afforded views of Ethan’s back. But as moonlight filtered across the ship, it danced across the man’s features. She let out a horrified gasp, as Ethan’s face was revealed to her curious eyes.

Blood rushed to her head, and her ears began ringing. She was blacking out. She could feel it careening to consume her. She finally succumbed to the shock, and fainted dead away in Rafe’s arms.

*****

Mallory gathered Elizabeth up into his arms, and her head flopped against his chest.

“Is she still breathing?” Ethan asked, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

“Yes, thank God!” Mallory muttered, as the heavens opened up, and poured rain down upon them. “I have to get her out of this frightful weather. I trust you, and the rest of the crew will be able to make do without me?”

“Certainly. Just make sure that she recovers her health.”

Mallory began walking in the direction of the cabin area, and then stopped suddenly. Turning back, he stared at Ethan curiously, and felt a question on the tip of his tongue.

“Before you go any further, I know what you want to ask.” Ethan held up his hand beckoning for silence. “I knew Elizabeth’s mother at one point in time. After Lady Susan’s rather mysterious death, I went back to America to spill Geoffrey’s guts. When I arrived in Baltimore, I headed for
Her Ladyship’s Kindness
to finish him off, once and for all. Unfortunately, the wound I gave him didn’t kill him. Mores the pity, for I so did want to send him to the very devil himself.”

“And why was Elizabeth so shocked to see your face?”

“Because she helped me to escape after I ran her father through with my cutlass. That lass can scream like a banshee, I’ll tell you that.”

“She’s a remarkable woman,” Mallory murmured. He glanced down at the raven haired angel he held in his arms, and a tender smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“When are you going to tell her who you really are?”

“Oh, I’ll get around to telling her in due course.”

“And what is your definition of, in due course?”

“Well, that would be right before we exchange our wedding vows.”

“Rafe, you can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I haven’t been so serious about anything else in my life.”

“Watch Miss Elizabeth like a hawk,” Ethan advised wisely. “She was but an innocent lass when she helped me. But she’s not a child anymore, and she’s always had a keen mind.”

“I know that better than you do,” Mallory retorted, groaning as Elizabeth muttered in her unconscious state.

“You’d best get a move on, and whisk her out of these frightful elements. We’re in for one hell of a storm.”

“The rain and wind will be nothing compared to what Elizabeth will barrage me with when she wakes up.”

“God be with you, my son,” Ethan quipped.

Mallory was just about to serve him with a rude retort when the rain began pelting down heavier than it had been just seconds before.

He cradled Elizabeth against his chest, and almost lost his footing on the slick deck. With the added weight, he almost did go crashing to the ground, but he managed to keep himself upright. He stared at the cabin door that remained ajar.

Obviously, Elizabeth had forgotten to shut it behind her. Now, that he could add picking locks to her already long list of skills, he wondered what else he could expect from her.

She was hot-blooded, and had a barbed tongue, but he felt quite certain that she was as innocent as she had been on the night of the ball. But nearly two years had passed. And she had matured from a wistful forlorn girl, into a powerful, passionate woman. She was far ahead of her times, for she did not balk at anything he threw her way.

Perhaps, that was why she intrigued him so much. Her beauty had not been changed from when she had been but a young ingénue, and yet so much more about her had. He wished that she would remember him.

*****

As he walked over the cabin threshold, Elizabeth flickered one eye open, and then closed it again. He gently placed her on the bed, as she wisely continued to feign unconsciousness. His touch made her tingle all over, and fireworks coursed through her skin whenever he drew her close to him. He made her feel safe, which was a contradiction unto itself.

He was her abductor. In all reality, she should be fleeing from him in terror, and recoiling whenever he was near. But he was beginning to affect her. She was becoming fond of him. Her heart danced when he was near, and she found that she was disappointed when he left her side. And in her eyes, he had just endeared himself to her, for he had caught her when she had fainted.

She still couldn’t believe that she had shown such blatant weakness in front of him. She was determined to never again faint for as long as she lived.

Seeing Ethan Foyle had nearly made her lose what was left of her wits. Suddenly, instead of seeing his face, she had seen the face of her mother’s lover. Her mother had tried to keep her affair with Ethan discreet, but somehow the gossipmongers had finally betrayed her. When her father had discovered the affair, he had been infuriated. He had told her mother that she was a scheming whore, and that sluts like her would be punished.

Her mother had finally had enough of Geoffrey. She had told him that she was taking the first available ship back to England. Geoffrey had wished her the best of luck considering the violent war that was being waged across Europe. Then her mother had propelled her father over the edge when she had informed him that she would be taking Elizabeth.

They would live with the Drakes, under her father’s protection, and all would be well. Her mother had protected her from her father’s following displeasure. There had been so many times that Elizabeth had feared her father would finally succeed in killing her mother.

And then he had.

Elizabeth could clearly remember the night of her mother’s death. Her mother had told her to scamper upstairs to bed. She had done so, and had waited for her mother to come and kiss her good night.

But she never came. So Elizabeth had tiptoed down the stairs, only to find her mother lying dead at the bottom of them. Her father had claimed that it was an accident, and to this day maintained his innocence. He’d told her that he could never kill her mother no matter how angry he got with her. He’d begged her to see the truth about him, that he was all bark and no bite. He’d told her that her mother had lost her footing, slipped and fell, breaking her neck. He’d seemed genuinely heartbroken by the death and yet…she didn’t know what to believe.

Elizabeth always wondered if her mother had actually taken a tumble after struggling with her father or if he had done the unthinkable—pushed her to her death.

The shock of her mother’s death had driven Elizabeth to the brink of despair. Her father had not known what to do with her, as she had been inconsolable, and would not even look at him. He had quickly shuffled her off to be with her nannies. As despicable as her father was toward her mother, he had never lifted a hand to her in anger.

Then Ethan had returned. He had been incensed to learn that her mother was dead. He had confronted Geoffrey and had nearly killed him, when Elizabeth had intervened. Her untimely interruption had kept Ethan from doing away with Geoffrey. Sometimes, she hated herself, and wondered whom exactly she’d wanted to save, Ethan or her father.

She had screamed her bloody lungs out, startling her father, and, giving Ethan the opportunity to escape. Though he was quite corpulent now, her father had been the epitome of health when her mother had died…barrel chested and strong as an ox, Ethan had been no match for him.

After that fateful night, she had written to her grandfather begging him to come and take her away to England. He had answered her prayers and had arrived at
Her Ladyship’s Kindness
hell bent on taking her away from her father.