Arabella (14 page)

             
It was the last thing she wanted!  Arabella's mind broke free of the spell he had seemed to cast over her.  She remembered that he was Harry Sylvester's enemy and therefore hers.

             
'I prefer to walk alone,' she said.  'But we shall be friends if you wish it, sir.  Perhaps you would like to ride with us in the morning?  Your cousin and I usually ride with a few friends most days.'

             
Gervase had sensed her withdrawal.  Despite his determination not to judge her, he was suspicious.  Why did she want to walk alone – was it because she was meeting a lover?

             
This man – John Carstairs – had he taken Harry Sylvester's place in her affections?  If she was so shallow she was not worth his attention.  He would do better to ride away now and never see or think of her again.

             
Damn the wench!  He was caught like a rabbit in a trap.  She held him whether he liked it or not.

*

'You are late,' Harry accused, giving her a sullen look the next afternoon.  'I have been waiting half an hour – and there was a shower of rain.  I was forced to shelter in a woodsman's hut.'  He sounded indignant.

              'I could not come while it rained,' Arabella said.  'It would have looked so odd if I had insisted – and Lord Roxbourne is suspicious.  He says nothing but I feel him watching me.'

             
'So he is here then?'  Harry was annoyed.  'I had hoped he would change his mind.'

             
'Yes, he was there when I got back yesterday.'  She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to find that he had followed her.  'I cannot stay long.  Lady Spencer was not pleased that I came out at all.'

             
'What does it matter?' Harry demanded, reaching for her.  He pushed her against the tree.  She could feel the wet bark making her gown damp and tried to pull away, but Harry held her there.  He pulled her skirt up, thrusting his knee between her legs almost viciously.  She made a slight protest, but his mouth was on hers and in a moment she felt the pulsating heat of his manhood probing at her.  He lifted her, holding her as he thrust himself into her, taking her angrily, more roughly than he had since that first time.

             
Arabella felt anger at being so roughly used, but then the excitement of what he was doing to her overcame her scruples and she moaned as her knees trembled.  She was faint with pleasure.  His roughness was exciting her even as it angered her, though at the back of her mind a nagging worm reminded her that he had not troubled to ask if she were willing.

             
As he slumped against her, spent and moaning softly, she sank her teeth into the lobe of his ear.  He gave a yelp that was as much surprise as pain and clapped a hand to his ear.

             
'Why did you do that?'

             
'To remind you that I am not a thing to be used without so much as a by your leave!'

             
Harry saw the glint in her eye, not sure whether to react in kind or be amused by her flash of spirit.  He gave a rueful smile as he saw blood on his fingers.  Her teeth had broken the skin.

             
'Vixen,' he muttered.  'I should teach you some manners.'

             
'Mayhap you should learn some!'

             
'You can be a bitch, Bella.'  Harry laughed.  'But I deserved it.'

             
'Yes, you did.'  She was not to be won so easily.

             
'It was your speaking of that devil Roxbourne,' he grunted.  'He has destroyed me, Bella.  I have nothing but a few coins I won from Carstairs last night.'

             
'Why does he hate you, Harry?'

             
'I think he hates anyone who might be a rival to him,' Harry replied.  'I don't think I can stay here more than a few more days.  Carstairs was talking of moving on…going to see a bare knuckle fight.'

             
'You won't go with him?'

             
'If I can win a few guineas I'll go back to London,' Harry said.  'I could stay at an inn outside of town – try to find a few games.  If I can win several hundred guineas I might settle my most pressing debts.'

             
'You have heard nothing from your uncle?'

             
He had not written, but he shook his head and pulled a wry face of regret.  'The old skinflint would probably do nothing for us, Bella.  I fear we must live on our wits, my sweet.'

             
'But you will let me come with you?'

             
'Yes – have I not given my word?'

             
Roxbourne had come here for a reason, and now that he'd had time to reflect on it, Harry knew what it must be.  He wanted Arabella, Harry was certain of it.  He would snatch her from beneath Roxbourne's nose.  It made him laugh inside to think of the marquis's fury when he realised that he had lost the woman he wanted to make his wife.

             
'When shall we go?' Arabella asked.  'I am frightened Lord Roxbourne might discover that I am meeting you.  If he follows me and sees you he could cause trouble for you.'

             
'Tomorrow – we'll go tomorrow,' Harry promised, suddenly reckless.  He would make sure he won heavily that evening.  Carstairs was a careless player.  Harry could easily have taken more from him before this, but had been careful not to anger his host.  He had served his purpose and could be discarded once his guineas were in Harry's pocket.  'Yes, we'll go tomorrow.  Make some excuse when the others go riding.  Slip away and meet me here – I'll have a carriage waiting.'

             
'Oh, Harry!'  Arabella flung her arms about him.  'I do love you.  We'll run away together and then we'll be married.  It will be wonderful.'

             
Harry kissed her.  He was tempted to make love to her again, but there would be plenty of time for that now.  He had not yet tired of her, which was surprising for he usually lost interest after a woman gave herself to him.  He would never marry her, of course, but he might keep her with him for a few weeks – just until he was ready to move on.

'Arabella…' Gervase smiled as he saw her walking through the wood towards him.  She was alone.  He had thought she might have come here to meet a lover, but he had misjudged her.  'You look like a wood nymph.'

             
'And what does a wood nymph look like, sir?'  Arabella laughed.  She was too happy to be sulky even with him.  In the morning she was going away with Harry!  They would be married and then she would send word to her father.  She had a small dowry left her by her mother, and that would help them survive until Harry was on his feet again.

             
'Beautiful, wild and free…' Gervase said, describing Arabella as she seemed to him at that moment.  'Arabella, I know you do not yet trust me, but I must tell you that I have come to admire you…'

             
She stared at him feeling shocked.  What was he saying?  He could not mean it?  Was he about to make her an offer?

             
'I pray you…' She stopped, catching her breath as he moved closer.  He was going to kiss her!  She could see his purpose in his eyes and knew she must prevent it.  This must not happen -–it was too late.  What did she mean – too late?  Her thoughts whirled in confusion.  It was not right.  She was suddenly terrified of being kissed by him.  'No!  No, you must not…'

             
She dodged past him and started running.  She knew that he must not kiss her, that it would be a terrible mistake if she allowed it, though she did not know why.

             
'Arabella!  Come back…there's no need to be frightened.  I did not mean to startle you.'

             
She heard Gervase calling to her but sped on regardless.  She must not listen to him, must not be persuaded by that look in his eyes – a look that had frightened her.  Why should she be afraid of that look?  It touched something buried deep within her – and she must not allow it to do so.  She belonged to Harry!  She was going away with him.  She would be his wife and it was what she wanted with all her heart.

             
Arabella was panting by the time she reached her bedchamber.  She stood with her back against the door, trembling all over.  How foolish!  How stupid of her to bolt like a frightened filly.  Lord Roxbourne had meant her no harm.  He would not have raped her.  She was almost certain that he had been on the verge of proposing marriage to her.

             
He must not!  It was impossible.  Too late.  She did not want him to speak.  She was not sure why, but she knew she would do all she could to prevent him from speaking.

Arabella was reluctant to go down to dinner that evening, yet knew she must face Roxbourne.  Somehow she must keep a distance between them this last evening.

             
To her relief there was no sign of him in the drawing room.  Lady Spencer's guests were gathering for the card party she was giving that night, but Roxbourne was not amongst them.

             
'Gervase had some business in Bristol,' she told Arabella.  'A nuisance but necessary I gather.  He asked me to give you his apologies – and this…' She handed Arabella a small package.  'I have no idea what it contains.  Do open it, my dear.'

             
Arabella did so reluctantly.  She stared at the magnificent jewel lying on a bed of black silk: it was a huge emerald set in a square of diamonds and pearls.

             
'I cannot accept this…' she breathed.  'It is too valuable.'

             
'A mere bauble to a man of Roxbourne's wealth,' Lady Spencer said.  She took the brooch and pinned it to Arabella's gown.  'There, my dear.  It looks well on you.  Gervase said he had upset you.  He wished to make amends.  Accept it, to please me if nothing more.'

             
'What can I say – it is too precious but I must take it if you wish it.'

             
Arabella wanted to reject the jewel.  She was not to be bought!  Torn between anger and an emotion she could not name, she resisted the urge to tear the brooch from her bodice.  She would wear it for this evening since her hostess insisted.

             
'To please you then…'

             
'You must not misjudge my cousin,' Lady Spencer said gently.  'I know he can sometimes seem harsh – and he does tease one so – but he has a good heart.  I believe he would be a devoted husband to the woman he loved.  Gervase is a man of strong passions, my dear, but he is generous to a fault.  You could do worse…'

             
Arabella turned away with a blush.  She felt terrible.  Lady Spencer had been kindness itself.  She would be hurt and angry when she discovered that Arabella had abused her hospitality.

             
She had made several friends here, Arabella realised as the evening progressed.  These people were warmer and kinder than many she had met in London.  She might have been happy living amongst them had things been otherwise.

             
She must not allow herself to have such thoughts!  It was too late for regrets now – she had no regrets!  Of course she didn't!  She had gained her heart's desire.  She was going away with Harry in the morning and they would be married.

*

Arabella gathered together the things she could carry with her.  Just a few undergarments and an extra dress.  She looked ruefully at some of the pretty gowns she would be forced to leave behind, but of course they could be sent on later.

              She packed a few of her personal treasures – a silver-backed hairbrush given her by her father, her mother's pendant, and the brooch Lord Roxbourne had sent her the previous evening.  She hesitated over this last, twice laying it on the dressing chest before picking it up again.  She ought not to take it with her.  It was not morally hers, even though Lady Spencer had insisted that she take it.

             
Her hostess was resting in her room, complaining of a headache.  Arabella had sent word that she was too tired to go riding that morning.  She must use this opportunity to slip away.

             
She walked down the stairs clutching her bundle, her heart racing.  Supposing someone saw her?  Supposing they tried to stop her?

             
She reached the back parlour unchallenged, leaving through the French windows and running across the expanse of smooth lawn as fast as she could.  She felt sick and guilty somehow, close to tears.  Everyone would think she was wicked to behave so badly.  Her hostess would be angry that she had sneaked off without a word.  She had considered leaving a letter but decided against it.  Better to say nothing until she could tell her father she was married to the man she loved.