A Whisper of Desire (4 page)

He looked like his father, he had his father's temperament, and, like his father, sex filled his every waking thought. His biggest fear was turning into a sex-fueled predator too. The incident in the barn when he was sixteen taught him he walked a fine line between normality and becoming like his father.

Over many years he'd taught himself to ignore or control his baser urges. He did not keep a mistress; he sought out courtesans only a few times a month at most, and always a different one so that no relationship could develop. He rarely pleasured himself—only when the urge became almost unbearable.

One taste of Marisa's lips and he realized she would be the type of woman to test his control. She was passionate, sensual, and inquisitive. He could almost taste how eager she was to learn about sexual congress.

His only safety net was that he doubted Marisa would find this situation to her liking. Her heart belonged to Rutherford, a man unworthy of her love. Yet if she loved another, it might dampen her want of him. He needed to make a plan, something to keep her as far from him as possible.

The problem was he wanted a son. Needed a son.

He looked at Sebastian and asked, “How long have we been missing? What is the time?”

“It's almost six in the morning. You have been missing since the ball finished.” Sebastian added, “When we could not find you both we assumed you had taken Marisa home. When we arrived home and Marisa was not there, I realized something was afoot. I had better send word to Beatrice and Helen; they are worried sick.”

“While doing so, could you please organize clothes for us both? Our garments are missing, I assume to make a quiet escape impossible,” Marisa said.

Maitland cleared his throat. “Perhaps Lady Dunmire could lend us clothing to see us home. Sebastian, I assume you have brought your carriage.” He looked out of the window. “The sun's up. We will be the talk of the
ton.
I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault.” Then his words must have sunk in. Marisa pushed out of her brother's arms. “Oh, my, Rutherford.” She turned pleading eyes to Sebastian. “You have to ask him to call so I can explain what has happened.”

“Let's worry about sorting out the situation once you are home and rested,” Sebastian said, placing a kiss on top of Marisa's head. “I'll organize the clothes. I doubt that I shall be able to keep Lady Dunmire from talking.” He looked at Maitland as he said those words. “I'll be as fast as I can.” With that, he slipped from the room.

“Do you think Lord Rutherford will understand?” Marisa asked, as she sat down on the side of the bed looking thoroughly dejected.

“If he truly loves you, he'll not care about this scandal.”

“He does love me.”

Maitland marveled at how deceitful Rutherford had been. Marisa truly believed Rutherford loved her. It was going to be a steep learning curve for her; she would find people could lie and deceive about anything to get what they desired. She'd learn that not all men are as honorable as her brother, and that in all likelihood she would have to become his duchess.

If he weren't so honorable he'd use her love for Rutherford to get out of this mess. If he said nothing and let her marry Rutherford, he'd save both of them heartache. He wished he could be so cruel. Perhaps he could simply tell her the truth and let her choose the lesser of two evils—marriage to him or to Rutherford.

He worried that once he told Sebastian about the conversation he'd overheard with Rutherford, her brother would not allow Rutherford near her.

Honor won.

“Why are you so sure he loves you? He's young, and usually handsome men with wealthy titles are not in a rush to marry. They are too busy sowing their oats.”

Marisa smiled so sweetly he hated how he could break her heart with only a few words. Rutherford had a mistress and was marrying Marisa for her dowry, and to be free of his father. Even if he told her the truth would she believe him?

“He told me he loves me.”

“It's not wise to always believe everything a man tells you.”

She thought on that for a moment. “No. Not always, but why would he lie?”

“Perhaps because you are beautiful and your dowry is large.”

She laughed. “Maitland, you are so silly. Rutherford will be a marquess. When his father dies he inherits everything. He doesn't need my money.”

“He won't in the future, that is true, but what about now? What if his father has limited his allowance?”

A frown crossed her beautiful face, making her nose turn up. “Why would his father not provide an adequate allowance?” She crawled up onto the bed and padded across the sheet to where he sat and looked into his eyes, trying to ascertain his thoughts. “Do you know something about Lord Rutherford that you are not telling me?”

Here was Maitland's chance to lie. He could tell her that Rutherford would make her a wonderful husband or he could tell her the truth. He eyed her earnest, concerned face and couldn't do it. He couldn't be brutal, because it would break her heart. Rutherford should be the one to tell her the truth, and then she should have a choice. Neither man loved her, but if she loved Rutherford so much…

“I think you should ask Lord Rutherford if he has a mistress and what, if any, financial incentive he gets upon his marriage.”

“You do know something.” She stared into his eyes accusingly. “I think you're trying to discredit him because you want me to look more favorably upon your suit.”

He shut his eyes and clenched his fists, drawing in a big breath. Suit? There would be no suit now. She didn't understand her situation. How could she be so naïve? Once more composed, he took her hand in his, as her other hand clutched the quilt, holding it together, and he said, “I don't need to court you, Marisa. If I know your brother, he will have sent for the bishop and a special license.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and she tried to pull her hand free, but he held fast.

“I know I have been compromised and I don't blame you. I'm not stupid, but will you wait for me to talk with Lord Rutherford? Please, I'm sure he loves me enough.” At the look of pity on his face she burst into tears, and he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

“He doesn't deserve you, but if you promise me you'll ask him those questions, I'll let you talk with him first. Then you'll have to make up your mind, because you will have to marry one of us. You're ruined. Lady Dunmire will see to that.”

She looked up at him and said, “Thank you, but you already know what he will say, don't you?”

“I do, but then again, he might lie.” He nodded. “I don't want you to hate me. Hate is not the basis for a good marriage.”

“But I won't love you either,” she said truthfully. “Love is the making of a marriage.”

“I don't love you, that is true, but I admire you, respect you.”
And damn it all
—to his horror—
I desire you.
“It's a good foundation for any marriage.”

Tears welled up again in her beautiful eyes. “I used to think so, until Sebastian met Beatrice. They are so in love, and I think, I thought, I had that with Rutherford.” She flopped back onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling. “The rest of my life is a long time to spend with one person. I was hoping to have love so that it would not seem so lonely.” She sighed with such apathy that his heart clenched in his chest. She whispered as if to herself, “I was hoping for love and now it's hopeless.”

He wanted to be able to comfort her and say that perhaps love would grow between them, but he knew he could never risk loving anyone. Love drove a man crazy and he'd never be able to control his urges if he truly loved a person. God help her if he did fall in love with her.

He envied his three friends who had found love. They didn't have his darker desires and they could openly share themselves with another person.

The only thing he'd risked loving were his dogs.

As a youngster, the Master of the Hounds, Mr. Parker, had felt sorry for the lonely child he was and gave him one of his father's Labrador retriever puppies on the sly. A brave thing to do, given his father's cold and unforgiving demeanor. His father must have known about the gift because the puppy followed Maitland everywhere. It was the one kindness he can ever remember his father giving, letting him keep Jasper.

The late duke had bred Labrador retrievers as hunting dogs with the Earl of Malmesbury. They were the first men to develop the breed in England.

He had adored his puppy and the many dogs that followed. They were affectionate and loyal, and Maitland had bred them ever since.

Love had the power to twist a man. “Don't you think it more relevant that marriage be based on something more rational, such as friendship?”

She scrubbed a hand over her eyes and said sadly, “We are not friends either. I don't really know you. Tonight is the longest we have been in each other's company.”

He lay down beside her and took her small hand in his. “Relationships built solely on attraction tend to crumble when the attraction wanes. I'm betting we can become friends. Friendships can last a lifetime and keep us from being lonely.”

“I think you know about loneliness. It must have been lonely growing up an only child. I know when your father eventually remarried you got a half sister, but she is so much younger than you. I've always had Helen, who is only a year younger, and of course Sebastian. I suspect that is why you are so close to my brother.”

Marisa had no idea how lonely. His father provided everything for him except company. He had one tutor who used to beat him mercilessly until Mr. Parker intervened. He never knew what Mr. Parker did or threatened, but the beatings stopped. He doubted his father even knew what was going on, or maybe he did and didn't care.

His father was too busy debauching the local lasses to care.

The day he was sent to Eton, where he met the other Libertine Scholars, was the most wonderful moment of his life. Sebastian in particular befriended the odd boy. He was the boy who was more comfortable with numbers than he was with other children. He struggled with social interactions. His inability to understand sarcasm and to cope with loud noises saw him bullied until Sebastian stepped in.

He had hero-worshipped Marisa's brother for many years. He'd been able to repay Sebastian, and the other Libertine Scholars, with his uncanny investment ability. Numbers had always made more sense to him than people. Numbers didn't lie. They were logical, rational, and impossible to manipulate, if you were smart.

“Shall we make a pact to be friends? Regardless of the outcome of your talk with Rutherford, I shall count you as my good friend as I would Sebastian.”

“If you were my friend you'd tell me what you know about Rutherford. I bet you'll tell Sebastian.”

She was right. If he were her friend he would tell her. He was certainly going to tell Sebastian. “I knew you were intelligent. I've walked right into your trap.”

She rolled onto her side, facing him, and the quilt dropped dangerously low. He could almost see one nipple as his eyes roamed over the swell of her breast. Her eyes twinkled and her smile tugged a reluctant upturn of his lips in return.

“As your friend, tell me.”

He pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear, the urge to touch her too strong. “I don't want to hurt you. Rutherford should be man enough to tell you himself, but as I know he's deceiving you, I doubt the boy knows what the word ‘truthful' means.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and began to chew on it. At her silence, he looked her in the eye and told her what he knew. “He was in the garden tonight while I was smoking a cheroot and he was not alone.”

He watched her swallow back a curse.

“He was with a woman?”

Maitland nodded.

“Doing what, exactly?”

Maitland's eyebrow rose and she gasped, her eyes filling with tears. This time it was Maitland who cursed as he pulled her to him. At her distress he whispered, “The man is not worthy of your tears. He's a liar and a cad. No man should profess love when he does not mean it.”

He lay holding her as she cried in his arms, impotent to do anything to ease her hurt. After a while he felt her shudder and her tears dried.

“I brought it upon myself. I was vain enough to tell everyone I wanted a love match. He told me what I wanted to hear, and I didn't look too closely at the behavior behind his words.”

“Don't be so hard on yourself. He lied and deceived. How could you know?”

She sniffed and sat up. “It's all moot now, anyway. I wouldn't marry him if he were the last man on earth.”

“Good.” But her words changed his world, and not for the better.

He lay on his side, looking at her as she struggled to compose herself. Even with eyes red from crying, hair like a bird's nest, and a tatty quilt wrapped around her, she was the most beautiful woman he could remember sharing a bed with.

He ran his finger down her bare shoulder. “You'll marry me instead, and I promise you now, I will never lie to you.”

Just then the door opened and Sebastian had returned with Beatrice, who was carrying clothes for Marisa.

Beatrice helped Marisa stand, and with quilt in place made to escort her from the room to dress in private. Marisa halted at the door. “Thank you, Maitland.” He loved his name on her lips.

“What for, little one?”

“For being my friend.” And she swept through the door as if she were already his duchess.

As soon as the door closed, Sebastian threw clothes at him. He sensed his friend was unhappy with the situation. “I understand this is not what you would have wanted for Marisa.”

“It's not what I want that is important, it was what Marisa wanted. I want her to be happy and I don't think you can make her happy.”

Maitland halted while pulling on his shirt. “I respect your honesty, but may I ask why you have formed this opinion?”

He watched Sebastian struggle with his words. “I admire and respect you, and love you like a brother, and once I may have thought you a perfect husband for Marisa. However, since I met Beatrice I know you are not what she needs. I want her to find what I have, a love that completes her. She deserves a man who would lay down his life, pride, and honor for her. A man who would bare his heart for her.”

“I see. I wonder if you know me at all. I'd do all of those things, except—”

“Love. You've told me many times you don't believe in love, and that is why you are not the man for her.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Let's face it, emotions of any kind make you uncomfortable. Christ, they call you the Cold Duke.”

If only his friend knew why he kept his emotions under control. He wondered why Sebastian had never guessed. Sebastian knew what his father had been like. “But you'd let her marry Rutherford?” he declared angrily, shoving his hands through his sleeves so hard the thin linen almost ripped.

“Rutherford will become a marquess on his father's death. He and Marisa are very similar in personalities and age. They both love life and he's totally in love with her. I've never seen a man so besotted.”

Maitland turned and held out his cravat. Sebastian stepped close to help him tie it. The men were eye-to-eye in height, but Maitland didn't have Sebastian's dark good looks. Sebastian had always had women at his beck and call—widows, wives, and courtesans. Yet Sebastian didn't turn into a slave to his desires like Maitland knew he would.

Maitland suddenly understood. Sebastian saw himself in Rutherford. The only difference is that Sebastian was also honorable, whereas Rutherford was a cad.

“You profess to care for your sister, yet you are cavalierly trusting in a young man of twenty-two.”

Sebastian pulled the knot tight. “I've learned that where love is concerned, many things are not important: background, age, looks—”

“Truth. What about truth?”

“Of course. I know you are a man of honor and the rumors of you and Marisa will hurt your reputation, but if Rutherford could be convinced of the situation, and that nothing occurred, if he stands by Marisa, will you let her have her happiness?”

“If he doesn't, will you support this marriage?”

Sebastian stepped away and began to pace the room. “I won't force Marisa to marry you. I will protect her from scandal and I'll do anything to see her happy.”

Maitland's anger, anger he usually could control, was building along with the hurt. His best friend had just insulted him and didn't even realize it. “You are straining the bonds of our friendship. You'd rather see her disgraced than married to me, is that it?” He turned from Sebastian, unable to look at him without wanting to punch him, but a part of him knew she would be better off without him.

Sebastian sighed. “I want her happy. Outside of Rutherford, I'm not sure what will make her happy.” He heard Sebastian open the door.

“Rutherford has a mistress, and has to marry to unlock funds his dear father is withholding. I wonder why, if he is such a golden boy, his father has to withhold his funds.”

The door slammed shut and Maitland turned to find a very pissed-off Sebastian still in the room.

“You bastard. If you knew this, why did you not come to me?”

“I only found out last night at the ball.” He walked until he stood toe-to-toe with Sebastian. “Why did you not dig deeper when a man came courting your sister?”

Sebastian was breathing heavily. He spun and sank down to sit on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “Christ, I've been an idiot. I've been so caught up in my marriage and finding love, I didn't look past the emotion. I simply took Rutherford for his word.” He raised his head, his eyes filled with pain. “How am I going to tell Marisa? It will hurt her.”

“I've already told her.” At Sebastian's confused frown, Maitland added, “Is that not what a friend would do for another friend?”

Sebastian stared straight ahead.

“Look, I think you're underestimating both me and Marisa. We talked while you were gone. She's a sensible young woman. She understands her choices. Out of respect for my friendship with you, I will abide by her decision. She has already said she won't marry Rutherford, and if she is prepared to weather the storm that will follow this scandal, then I will gladly wear the dishonor that follows. I'm a duke, after all. Even if you don't think I'm good enough for your sister, there are many who would disagree.”

With that, he walked from the room, his pride in tatters. For a man who had stood by his side through most of his adult life, Sebastian's opposition to his marriage with Marisa was humbling. Did all the Libertine Scholars think like that? Had they spied the type of man he really was? Did they see his father in him?