The Bartered Virgin (5 page)

“In a moment.” He sat down beside her. “Now, Miss Percy, or may I call you Winnifred? I think I should, you know—after all, you are my betrothed.”

Winn jerked away from him. “I most certainly am not!” she cried. “You’ve not proposed and I’d not accept you, anyway.”

He folded his arms across his chest and gazed at her in what Winn could only describe as unaffected boredom. He wasn’t the least bit moved by her protest. “Your father proposed. My estate accepted. It was a match made in the Bank of Manhattan, if not in heaven. If your poor, addled little mind needs more clarity then here is the ugly truth. Your father’s firm wants the business of my peers. I approached him for an investment in my estate, offering the portfolio of all my future affairs and a recommendation to several others of my ilk. He offered you and your considerable dowry and, to seal the bargain, invested some of his own fortune as a down payment. If you renege, your father will lose the money he’s invested. He can’t touch your dowry for another three years so he’s up the spout if the deal falls through.”

Winn stared at him openmouthed. “How could you do such a thing?”

“How could he? Sell his daughter for a title and his firm’s prestige? Not very sporting, is it?”

“Give the money back,” she demanded. “I insist.”

He ignored her demand. Instead, David crossed his legs on the bench, as if settling in for an indefinite admiration of the Percy garden. He reached into his dinner jacket and withdrew a silver case. Even in the dim light Winn could see the flourish of the Earl of Wolshingham’s insignia. He opened the case and chose a fat cigar then snapped his fingers and opened his palm. “A light, if you please, dearest.”

Winn shifted away from him and folded her arms across her breasts defiantly.

“Don’t play coy with me now. The matches. Or do I have to search your person for them.” He stared pointedly at her skirt.

That threat spurred her into action. She turned her back to him while she retrieved the matches from her garter. The sound of his soft chuckle irritated her. She tossed the matches over her shoulder without looking at him.

“Return the money,” she prompted.

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve spent it.”

“You scoundrel!” Winn felt her cheeks burn with anger and, even in the pale flashes of the dim garden lanterns, was sure David could see it, too.

“You were closer with bastard. Now, about the wedding. We should call a truce until the nuptials. You will return with me to England, reside at Knightsbriar as my wife and provide me with an heir. Then, if you wish to return, I shall grant you a divorce.”

Winn turned around, unable to believe her ears. “That’s the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard. Why marry me if you’re going to divorce me?”

“I didn’t say that. I said if
you
want a divorce, I’ll give you one.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

David laughed out loud. “A second ago you didn’t want to marry me.”

“But a divorce in the family would be scandalous.”

“Any more scandalous than you strutting around choking on those things or singing about Bess in her drawers? Can’t wait until they print that in the
Fifth Avenue Circular
.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me.”

Winn didn’t. He was just the kind of cad who would do such a thing. A scandal in the
Circular?
Her mother would rather die! They’d be cast out of society; snubbed by the very people into whose circle they’d been tenuously welcomed. Her family’s name muttered only in whispers and with contempt. Her own reputation would be in ruins. And Tip—Tip wouldn’t have a ragpicker’s chance at a decent marriage. Worst of all was the thought that her father might lose the family fortune, even his own business. The specter of poverty hung over them and it would be all her fault!

Her heart sank. Winn was trapped and she knew it. No better than any mouse who might wander into the Percys’ pantry with its threshold of traps.

She sighed deeply, on the verge of tears. Her shoulders sagged. She suddenly felt very tired.

“On one condition,” she murmured.

“Oh, we’re negotiating now, are we? Like father, like daughter.”

“Please!”

There was silence, then the sound of David clearing his throat. She heard him inhale and she wrinkled her nose at the cloud of thick smoke that drifted in her direction.

“What?” he said softly.

“You won’t tell anyone what I’ve done here tonight, will you?” She cringed at the thought of pleading with him but it was too late to undo the damage brought about by her own foolishness. She kept her back to him, not wanting to see him preening with smug victory.

“Dear God! I think I need a brandy. What in hell led you to believe I’d do such a thing? Now I understand why they haven’t married you off. You’re mad.”

Winn turned around at last. Was he sincere? Did he mean it? She anxiously twisted her handkerchief. If anyone were ever to find out how deeply she’d just humiliated herself, the fortunes and reputations of everyone she loved—indeed anyone ever connected with the Percy name—would be ruined. The responsibility and consequences of her thoughtless actions now weighed heavily on her shoulders. She cleared her throat.

“And…the book. The pillow book. You won’t breathe a word about what I read. I mean, about…a man eating a woman’s pussy when he takes her to bed at night and—”

The air was suddenly filled with David’s laughter. For the first time that night, his face was animated. He laughed out loud, nearly doubling over, gasping between fits. He dropped his cigar on the cobblestones and slapped his hands on the bench several times. Finally he calmed down and smiled at her, an openmouthed and fair-toothed smile. In that instant his youth returned and he looked again like the Harvard freshman she remembered meeting.

“I should have seen it coming! This is wonderful, just wonderful. I was promised a virgin. Instead I meet a whore who I find out is a virgin only pretending to be a whore. Bloody wonderful. Winn, dearest, you’ve made my night.”

She slapped him. He grabbed her and lifted her off the ground. Suddenly she found herself on his lap, with those black eyes staring at her from the darkness and that aristocratic mouth bearing down on hers. He kissed her, hard and fast, before she had a chance to protest. Winn was wide-eyed and could hardly breathe. He broke off for a second, then kissed her again. This time his hot tongue snaked into her mouth. David held her close to his chest but his free hand roamed across her dress, carelessly exploring her breasts, touching her where even she herself would not.

His kiss deepened and she opened her mouth to him. His hand found its way under her dress and petticoats. Winn began to panic. She had heard the term rape and knew that it meant a woman would no longer be a virgin. But this was what she wanted so she didn’t move to stop him until he touched the cleft between her legs. His fingers invaded the open seam of her drawers.

“Shh,” he whispered. “I’ll not take your virginity—yet. You and I shall have all the time in the world to play this game. I only want a taste of what I’m bringing to the title. And here—” he whispered as he took her hand and placed it at the crotch of his trousers, “—is what your money is buying you.” He pressed her hand against him. His length was hard and hot, seemingly on the verge of bursting through his trouser buttons. “You don’t even know what that is, do you, my sweet innocent? Your little French fairy tale did the trick.”

All at once, indignation, rage and fear bubbled up inside Winn. She pushed at him with all her strength and suddenly found herself on the ground on one side of the bench while David foundered on the other. Picking herself up, she ran as fast as she could through the garden.

David didn’t bother to go after her. Crouching by the bench, he searched for his cigar, but she’d crushed it underfoot when she fled. He tossed it in one of the nearby flower beds. He sat there for a moment considering his lot, then brought his hands to his nose and breathed deep. Her essence was like the perfume of heaven. She was capable of passion, no doubt about it. But only in the right hands. His hands.

He straightened his dinner jacket and ran his fingers through his hair. It certainly had turned out to be an interesting night. Might as well call for a taxi and head back to the hotel. The wooing and courting part of the engagement had come to an end.

In a way, David felt sorry for Winnifred. She didn’t want this marriage any more than he did, and had the candor to say so. Not only that, she had the sand to try to do something about it. Prancing around like some dockside whore, choking on Tip’s cheap cigarettes and spouting profanities. Damn, she was interesting—and totally naive.

He met Mary Percy at the garden entrance and gracefully accepted her apology for her daughter’s sudden “headache.” He bowed regally and agreed with her explanation that Winn was overcome by the events of the day and the news of their engagement. He assured Mrs. Percy that the presentation of the engagement ring tomorrow evening over a private dinner at Delmonico’s would set her spirits to right.

Then he shook hands with his future father-in-law and promised to join Tip and Twig for a romp around town before he gave up his bachelorhood. Having done his duty by charming his future mother-in-law and appeasing the men, he took his leave of his hosts.

“Oh, one more thing, Mrs. Percy.”

“Oh, Lord Wol—”

“David, please.”

“And you must call me Mother Percy.”

“Of course. Do tell Winn I was most impressed by her French this evening and, when she comes for supper tomorrow, to please bring her French book. I’d like to hear more.”

David was rewarded with a bright, satisfied smile from Mary Percy. He smiled back, buoyed by thoughts of what other surprises his fiancée had in store for him, and he for her.

When had things changed?

David lay on his hotel bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to contemplate the answer. When had his bartered bride become an obsession? No answer came through the darkness of his strange surroundings. Winn didn’t like him, didn’t want him, any more than he wanted her. But he needed her. No, he needed her money. He had to keep things in perspective, to keep Knightsbriar foremost in his mind. But for tonight, at least, it wasn’t.

Having lain awake most of the night, he heard the milk wagons begin their rounds up Fifth Avenue. He tossed. He turned. He punched his battered pillow again and again. David grinned into the darkness and rubbed his cheek, remembering the force with which her palm struck his face. She was no floozy. Neither was she the shrinking violet of her reputation and upbringing. And she thought to dissuade him by reading from that damned book! Obviously, she had no clear understanding of what she was reading or how it affected him. There were lessons to be learned for Miss Winnifred Percy. She was a luscious, untried tart. Fresh and untamed. And it would be his pleasure to do the teaching, the tasting and the taming.

Thinking about her tormented his body with a hellish pattern of erections. What would she say if she knew that at this moment she had the upper hand? There was only one way to solve the problem. Well, two but he didn’t feel like stumbling into his private bath for a cold shower.

Unable to put up with the discomfort for a moment longer, David reached down to his aching groin and placed a hand on his semierect cock. He closed his eyes and pictured fiery-haired Winnifred Percy. He began to move his hand up and down his half-solid shaft. The image of her quivering in his arms instantly spurred his cock into livid form. He remembered the softness of her skin, the way she gasped at the unexpected intrusion of his hands under her gown, and the way her eyes widened and her breath stuttered when his fingers licked the wetness of her virgin pussy.

David’s body stiffened. His breath came quicker now, shallower. He pictured kissing her again, remembering how her body reacted to his lips, his touch, his words. Faster and harder, his grip tightened around his shaft. The friction fueled a surge of sensation through his body. It flowed from his groin and traveled down his legs. Liquid heat pooled in his belly. The eruption was imminent. He grabbed a handful of sheet, wishing it was Winn’s silky hair. He imagined himself pumping into her slick, tight flesh, tearing her useless hymen to minute fragments. He would bury his lips in her hair next to her ear, feverishly whispering,
Come with me.
He wanted to hear her gasps of pleasure, feel her body respond. At the last moment her back would arch, the way his did now. He’d feel the delicious release shoot through them both as his white-hot load sprayed her virginal softness.

For now, there was only the cradle of his hand and a sticky wetness smeared across his belly and chest. David lay gasping into the folds of the bunched sheets. Gradually his body relaxed and the specter of sleep erased the vision of his satiated bride. Minutes later he whispered the name on his lips into the empty dawn.

“Winnifred.”

“Please, Papa. I don’t want to marry him!” Winn sat in her father’s study, pleading with the man who seemed unreachable across the wide expanse of his oak desk.

“Winnifred, I don’t want to be cross with you but what’s done is done.”

“But I don’t like him,” she cried, dismayed that her father refused to be swayed.

“Now, now. Most women don’t like their husbands before they get married. I don’t believe your mother really liked me at first. But after you get to know him—”

“I don’t
want
to know him. I know all I need to know. He only wants the money.”

“Winn, no proper girl is married off without a dowry. You know that. No man will take you if you don’t have a dowry, lord or no lord.”

She rubbed her hands in her lap. It was useless. No amount of pleading, pouting or arguing was going to work. Dejected, she got up to leave.

“There’s a good girl. Now go and find your mother. I’m sure you two have a lot to do for the wedding. And close the door behind you.” It was the final dismissal.

Winn had tried reasoning with her mother earlier that morning by claiming that David’s behavior in the garden was far removed from that of a proper suitor. Her mother’s reaction was even more dismissive.

“But, dear. He’s a titled English gentleman and used to his eccentric ways. Besides, he’s your betrothed. It’s perfectly all right for him to want to steal a kiss before your wedding day,” Mary said, pondering over the cloth samples spread over the back of the morning room sofa.

“Mama, please. He—he frightens me.”

She glanced up and Winn felt a glimmer of hope.

“Very well. Sit down for a moment,” she invited in a mysteriously low voice. Winn sat on the edge of the sofa, careful not to disturb the array of fabrics that were to be her trousseau. Mother sat down beside her and clasped Winn’s hands in her own. She took a deep breath but avoided her daughter’s anxious gaze.

“I wanted to have a private moment with you anyway so I guess now is as good a time as any,” she began almost hesitantly. “It’s only natural that you feel apprehensive, Winn. After all, you’re a good, respectable girl from a socially prominent family and as such you haven’t had much unchaperoned contact with men. They can be…unpleasant sometimes. But on your wedding night, you must be prepared that your husband will want to sleep with you—” Mary bent her head closer to Winn’s ear and whispered softly, “—unclothed!” Then she sat back as if giving Winnifred time to digest this information.

“You see, your husband has certain…rights. And a good wife never refuses her husband his rights. Do you understand?”

She understood only too well. Understood that her mother was only too happy to see her wed to an uncouth cad. Winn’s shoulders sagged at the prospect and Mother mistook her forlornness for wedding anxiety. “Don’t worry, dear. Just go to bed with your husband and do your duty. Be a good wife and give him children. Just like I did.”

Yes,
thought Winn.
And look at your life. Endless days of menu planning, cotillions, receiving boring old biddies and patiently waiting for papa to come home.
Only in her case it would entail isolation as well. A strange home in a strange country with strange people. Suddenly the prospect seemed too much to bear, but she knew it would be useless to show her unhappiness to her mother. She rose to leave. As she did, Mary called her back. Hope bloomed in Winn’s breast. Had her mother changed her mind, after all? She turned around to see her holding a swatch of lace at arm’s length. Winn’s spirits plummeted.

“Now, which one of these laces do you prefer for your veil?”

Early that afternoon Margaret knocked on her bedroom door. “Mrs. Mary needs me to measure you for your weddin’ dress.” Winn stripped down to her corset and drawers and put up with the maid’s huffing and puffing about having “too much up top.” Finally, Margaret took her tape measure and figures down to Mother, who was going to the dressmaker to pick out a pattern.

Winn shrugged into her dressing gown and waited for her to leave. She paced and chewed her index fingernail, watching from her bedroom window as her mother and Margaret got into a carriage. She had realized after speaking to her parents that there was only one way to escape her fate. She would have to run away.

Once the carriage was out of sight, Winn ran down the stairs to her father’s study. She lifted the earpiece off the telephone box and cranked the handle.

“Lexington six-two-four, please. Yes, I’ll hold.” After a few moments and several clicks, the Terwilligars’ butler answered.

“Miss Kit—er, Catharine, please. Miss Winnifred Percy calling.”

Winn danced from one foot to the other as she waited for Kitty. All the while, she kept one ear on the door lest her mother decide to return early.

“What’s up?” Kitty sounded like she was eating, as usual.

“Can you get out this afternoon and meet me at the Grand Central Depot?”

“Yes, Mother’s out. Trousers or strollers?”

“Trousers for me but wear whatever you please. Can you bring me some food and a little money?”

“What are you up to?”

“I have to leave, Kit. I’ve no choice. I can’t stop the wedding.”

“You mean you’re running away?” The voice on the end of the receiver blasted in her ear.

“Shh. I don’t want everyone to know. We have to hurry. Meet me in an hour.”

Winn placed the earpiece back in the cradle and dashed upstairs. She quietly stole into Tip’s room and went straight to his closet, taking his carpetbag from the back where he stored his winter overcoats. Next she borrowed two white shirts. She decided traveling would be easier disguised as a young man. She shed her corset and shrugged into a shirt then pulled on a pair of gray twill trousers and tried to belt them. As usual they were too big, even at the last hole in Tip’s smallest belt. She threaded the silk tie from her dressing gown through the belt loops and tied a tight knot. Finally she slipped on a tweed motoring cap, covering her tightly wound braid. Grabbing the carpetbag she opened the door. Winn heard the maids coming up the stairs to do the bedrooms.

Hell’s bells,
she thought.
I’m trapped!

She considered hiding in the closet until they finished but Mother might return before they were done. Winn scooped Tip’s pocket watch off his dresser. There was no time to wait. She had to leave now. She eyed the large bay window and smiled. Not for the first time would Winn have to descend the large oak tree that grew up past Tip’s bedroom window. Tip himself used this particular method of entering and exiting the house after curfew.

She opened the window as high as she could, placed one foot on the ledge then stopped. The carpetbag. She turned and grabbed the wooden handle. Winn couldn’t hold its bulky form and climb down the tree at the same time. The thickly-leaved branches prevented her from seeing clearly to the bottom so she simply dropped the bag and hoped it would hit the ground somewhere inconspicuous.

Whump!
Knocked off balance, David stumbled on the sidewalk before flinging his arms forward to break his fall. He landed on the concrete face-first. Slightly dazed, he crawled to his hands and knees. Once he ascertained there were no assailants waiting to rob him of his wallet, he shook himself and started to rise. The back of his head stung like the very devil. Something or someone had hit him.

He tried to take a step backward but tripped over a soft, bulky object. This time, it was his backside that hit the pavement. David sat with his elbows on his knees, his palms rubbing his aching head.

“Damnation, Tip, this is some prank! Where the hell are you?” He swung his head from side to side but there was no sign of his friend. No usual snicker from some carefully planned hiding place. There was, however, the rustle of branches above him. He got to his feet and went to the base of the large oak. He looked up.

“I’ll be damned,” he muttered. David sidestepped a cap that sailed through the air and landed on the grass by the sidewalk. He picked it up and gazed once again through the thick branches. He wasn’t mistaken. The flash of red told him everything.

“I say, Miss Percy, do you require some assistance?” he asked in a loud voice.

There was a high-pitched shriek, followed by an undisguised epithet and a plaintive cry of “I’m stuck.”

David quickly discarded his jacket. “Stay there. Don’t move,” he cautioned. “I’m coming up to help you.”

Winn looked down from her perch. Of all the bloody hell things to happen! Getting stuck in a tree. And of all the bloody hell people to see her, the one man she was trying to get away from. That indirectly made him responsible for her present situation, which therefore made this whole mess his fault. And he was going to rescue her. It was the final indignation.

She watched as he effortlessly ascended the tree, from one branch to the next with the flawless grace of a Hippodrome tumbler, until he came to rest on the branch opposite her. To her annoyance, David leaned his back against the tree trunk and extended both legs. He laced his fingers together, cradled the back of his head and smiled politely. “There, all comfy. Now, to your predicament.”

Her
predicament
was that she had one leg wrapped around the branch where she’d lost her footing. She’d fallen forward and managed to catch a branch below, which she was now hugging tightly. From her upside-down position, Winn could see the arrogant smirk on his face. Any second now he would burst into laughter. Irritation erased her fear of falling.

“This is all your fault,” she seethed. “If you hadn’t startled me, I wouldn’t have lost my balance. I could have fallen to the ground and been killed. You should be shot.”

“How about execution by carpetbag? I assume it was your baggage that attacked me a few moments ago.”

“Oh, shut up and help me if that’s what you came to do. By the way, what are you doing here?”

He grinned at her in that lazy, nonchalant way she was quickly despising. “Why, Miss Percy, tit for tat. If I tell you then you will have to tell me. Better yet, let me guess. I would venture you’re taking a trip. But your clothing suggests you’re going to a masquerade ball. I didn’t see any balls listed in the society section of this morning’s
Times Herald,
so my deduction remains a trip. And since you’re taking a rather unorthodox method of leaving the house I’d also say that you’re probably running away. Am I right?”

Winn wanted to hit him but she couldn’t let go of the tree. She wanted to kick him but her legs were tangled. Her mouth was too dry from fright to spit at him. God, how she detested the man!

“Fine, I’m running away. Now please help me down.”

“Help you down? You confess to this clandestine flight and you want me to aid you? Never.”

“Please, my lord! My arms are getting tired.”

“Tell me why you’re running away. It couldn’t be that you’re running out on your father’s bargain, is it?”