Captive Bride (5 page)

 
Dominic had assumed that this wench's reputation had been built on the foundation of her father's prestige, but now he was beginning to think Rozalyn had earned her own reputation. As a matter of fact, Dominic wasn't sure he would put anything past this lively young beauty. Although she had the face and body of an angel, there was a daring sparkle in her wide blue eyes, a mischievous gleam that warned there was more to the lady than shallow beauty.

 
The stories about
Mademoiselle
DuBois were almost too incredible to believe, but Dominic wondered if he had been a mite too skeptical. A sly smile rippled across his lips as he reassessed the vivacious beauty who had thundered down the street and demanded that he climb into the saddle to assist her with an urgent mission. No, it would not be wise to underestimate this lovely chit, he advised himself.

 
He was beginning to believe the rumor that Rozalyn had challenged one of her overzealous suitors to a duel when he'd attempted to take outrageous privileges with her. No doubt, the lady was as adept at handling firearms as she was in managing the flighty stallion she rode. Rozalyn had been furious with the man, so the story went. She had insisted that they row out to the local field of honor—Bloody Island, a small mound of land in the Mississippi River. Although the young man protested the absurdity of dueling against a woman, Rozalyn forced him to pace into position. She insisted that, since she was the one who had been offended, it was her right to defend her honor. She was not about to have a man fight her duel for her. The gentleman refused to fire against a woman, but Rozalyn had no qualms about facing a man. She was infuriated with this bold rake; who had dared inflict bungling embraces on her after she had made it clear that his touch repulsed her. She was determined to have her revenge. So, to assure him that, lady though she was, she could blow him to smithereens if she had a mind to do so, she blasted the pistol from the man's hand at twenty paces. Needless to say the young man became a believer.

He promptly voiced his apologies and swore never to go near Rozalyn again, especially without a protective suit of armor.

 
Dominic had suspected that this temperamental hoyden, who was the subject of several other wild tales, was so ugly that men only approached her because of her vast wealth. But this lass who cavorted with ruffians, raced her stallion against worthy opponents and won, and who indulged in many other wild antics, was a far cry from a wealthy witch. It still baffled Dominic that the feisty hellion, whose name was frequently spoken in the grogshops, and this dazzling nymph were one and the same. Aubrey DuBois may have been a scoundrel, but his daughter was—

 
"I suppose you have heard that I have a notorious reputation. Perhaps you are apprehensive about associating with me," Rozalyn speculated as she saw conflicting emotions cross his bronzed features.

 
A low rumble rattled around in his massive chest. "I cannot lie to you,
cherie
. I have not been in the city long, but I have heard about your unusual behavior. Such talk does leave a man to wonder what is in store for him."

 
When Dominic made no further remark but only stared at her, Rozalyn asked impatiently. "Well, are you coming or not? I have no intention of blowing holes in your expensive jacket if our scheme fails against my grandmother ... if that is what you are thinking."

 
"Then, by all means, let us commence with the first act," Dominic chortled as he swaggered up the steps. "I can think of nothing more worthwhile than humoring an old woman. And I can think of nothing more entertaining than carousing with a young woman who has a reputation of being . . . shall we say, a bit unconventional? Especially since she has granted me amnesty," he added with a subtle wink.

 
A wary frown puckered Rozalyn's brow as this lion of a man strode up beside her. He had an ornery look about him, a twinkle in his emerald eyes that most likely spelled trouble.

 
"Why are you grinning at me like that?" she demanded to know.

 
"Like what?" His devilish thoughts were suddenly masked behind a mock-innocent stare.

 
"You know very well what I mean." Rozalyn sniffed. Warily, she sized up the powerfully built rogue who stood more than a head taller than her five foot-two-inch frame. "I don't know what you are thinking, but let me assure you that I will not tolerate—"

 
Dominic clamped his lean fingers around her elbow and herded her toward the door. "Come, my love. It is impolite to keep our elders waiting. I do wish to make a good impression on my future grandmother-in-law." He leaned close to Rozalyn as he opened the door, and when he drew her around in front of him, his moist breath skimmed her ear. "I assure you the
grande dame
will be convinced that I am smitten with you. Have no fear of that."

 
"Thank you for coming to my rescue. I shall be eternally grateful," Rozalyn murmured, no longer fearing that Dominic intended to blurt out the truth and get her into more trouble with the beldame. "I promise you will be well paid for this inconvenience."

 
"The pleasure will be all mine . . . I'm sure," Dominic insisted. Soft laughter tumbled from his lips while he followed the shapely lass through the foyer.

 
If Rozalyn had known what lusty thoughts were whirling through his mind, she most certainly would not have granted him amnesty. Indeed, she would have carted Dominic back to the brothel and deposited him on the very spot on which she had found him. Earlier, she had been guilty of visualizing how Dominic might look in the altogether, but his imaginings had progressed far past the stage of visualizing the curvaceous lass before him without a stitch of clothing. Dominic was immersed in a most delightful fantasy that would have made Rozalyn blush deeply had she been able to pluck thoughts from his mind!

Chapter 3

 
Rozalyn cast her supposed beau a discreet glance as they rounded the corner and stepped into the solarium. There was a fascinating aura about this handsome stranger, a subtle charm that piqued her interest. It wasn't only his dashing good looks and masculine physique that had caught her attention. No, there was something more, some inner driving force, a bold confidence, she perceived in him. He was different, somehow, from the other aristocrats she had met. Rozalyn was reasonably certain that he was not the kind of man who would be content with attending social functions, the sedentary gatherings of the idle rich. He looked as if he could endure a hard day's work and show no signs of fatigue. Perhaps if she and Dominic had met under normal circumstances they could have . . .

 
Her straying thoughts trailed off when her gaze landed on her grandmother, and she snapped to attention, determined to play her role with convincing sincerity. Lenore was a perceptive old woman who could spot an impostor. They would both have to concentrate on their roles, and she prayed Dominic would uphold his end of the bargain.

"
Grand’mere
?" Rozalyn slipped her hand from the crook of Dominic's arm as they moved into Lenore's line of vision, forcing a happy smile onto her face. "This is the man I was telling you about."

 
Lenore adjusted her spectacles to study the swarthy gentleman who towered over her granddaughter.
Mon Dieu
! A most handsome specimen, Lenore observed. Then she berated herself for doubting that Rozalyn had a new beau, much less one as strikingly attractive as this rake.

 
"Dominic Baudelair, this is my grandmother, Lenore Rabelais." Rozalyn smiled adoringly at the towering mass of muscle beside her.

 
Dominic sorted through his repertoire of charming smiles. Presenting the old woman with one of the highest quality, he clasped her hand and pressed a fleeting kiss to her wrist. "Madame Rabelais, it is an honor and privilege to meet you. Rozalyn has told me a great deal about you."

 
"Nothing insulting, I hope," Lenore wheezed as she flung her granddaughter a teasing grin. "I have been harsh with Rozalyn of late, and I would not be surprised to learn that she had taken my name in vain on several occasions."

 
"
Au contraire
," Dominic contradicted, breaking into another disarming smile that melted the beldame. "Rozalyn has the utmost respect for you and she speaks fondly of you." His sinewy arm slid around Rozalyn's waist, drawing her against him, as his lips grazed her delicately arched brow. Then he refocused his attention on the old woman who was drinking in the scene. "She may be a bit feisty at times, but besides her high spirit, she possesses a heart of gold. I adore her for both."

 
Rozalyn allowed the close physical contact for the sake of the charade, but she could not explain the strange sensation that surged through her when her senses were invaded by the musky scent of him. You are only caught up in your role, she told herself, determined to stand her ground, when strong, confident hands wandered over her ribs to settle familiarly on her waist. These hands have mapped the contours of a woman's body on numerous occasions, Rozalyn thought resentfully, even as she forced a smitten smile and laid her head against Dominic's sturdy shoulder.

 
Novice he was not! He seemed at ease touching her, and Rozalyn had the sneaking suspicion this rogue intended to portray her doting beau even more convincingly than she had requested. Unfortunately, she was in a ticklish situation. If she attempted to put him in his place in her usual manner, Lenore would know this was a deceitful charade.

 
Now she knew why he'd been grinning so smugly when he'd pranced up the steps. Sidling closer, Rozalyn bided her time until she could retaliate suitably.

 
"Isn't Dominic everything I said he was,
Grand’mere
?" she purred. Her sooty lashes fluttered up to peer into his handsome features, certain that beneath his charming exterior lurked a snake. No wonder he was so charming since he was a serpent.

 
When his adventurous hand strayed across her hip to sketch the curve of her derierre, Rozalyn inwardly flinched and gritted her teeth. How she would have loved to slap him silly! But if she dared, her grandmother would swear she had lost her mind. The old woman didn't have any idea what was going on behind Rozalyn's back. Her view of it was blocked and Dominic was taking full advantage of that fact.

 
Rozalyn silently fumed as Dominic's fingertips splayed across her buttocks. Two could play his game.

 
"Dominic does seem to be everything I hoped you would find in a man." Lenore watched the two lovebirds hover close, seemingly enamored of each other.

 
"He is far more than I expected and I am most fortunate," Rozalyn insisted. A sticky sweet smile glazed her lips. She was most thankful her riding habit reached to the floor so Lenore could not see her grind the heel of her riding boot into Dominic's foot. "I am very happy,
Grand’mere
. . ." She tilted her face as if to offer Dominic her waiting lips.

 
"And so am I." Dominic bit back a grimace when the mischievous imp's boot heel mashed his foot, but he recovered in time to note the invitation of her soft, sweet mouth.

 
But he learned quickly that Rozalyn did not mean to offer pleasure, only to inflict more pain. As his mouth slanted across hers, she bit into his lower lip, silently daring him to yelp in pain and spoil her charade. Dominic took it like a man, however, and he quietly, patiently, waited to get even.

 
When he lifted his raven head, Rozalyn's eyes were glittering with deviltry. It was all he could do to prevent clamping his fingers around her swanlike neck and shaking the stuffing out of her.

 
Naturally, Lenore was not aware of Dominic's bold caresses or of Rozalyn's painful retaliations. She did not know how difficult it was for Dominic to remain silent when he experienced a kiss that was, in actuality, a vicious bite—the first such in his vast experience of women. Lenore was warmed by the touching scene, and her spirits soared with pleasure. At last Rozalyn had met her match. Dominic Baudelair was everything Lenore had wanted for Rozalyn, and it was obvious her granddaughter adored the man or she would not have openly invited his kiss. Never had Lenore seen Rozalyn pay such adoring attention to a suitor.

 
"You cannot know how pleased I am to see that the two of you are so fond of each other." Lenore beamed at the couple before her, living proof that looks could sometimes be deceiving. "You cannot know how long I have prayed for this day."

 
"And I dream of the day I can make Rozalyn my own," Dominic murmured. His lips brushed against her neck and then he nibbled at her ear, just as mercilessly as she had bitten his lip.

 
Rozalyn did not dare pull away, but she swore her earlobe would be completely chewed in two if Dominic persisted. Reaching up to pull a hairpin from her shining mass of raven curls, Rozalyn tucked the makeshift weapon in her hand. Inconspicuously, she brought it around behind Dominic, a spiteful smile rippling across her lips as she anticipated her counter tactic. She stabbed the rake in the back and watched him wince uncomfortably at the prick of her jeweled hairpin.

 
"You do plan to wed? And soon?" Lenore straightened in her wheelchair, her eyes lighting up like candelabra.