Forever My Love (Historical Romance) (20 page)

Gently his hand moved up her arm and he lifted her chin so he could observe her expression. "I'm mystified and intrigued by you." He laced his finger through the ribbon at the neck of her gown, and with a quick tug it came undone. When she did not move to stop him, he slowly pushed the gown aside so it exposed one creamy shoulder. She watched spellbound while he lowered his dark head to press his lips against the hollow there. "I cannot forget how you felt in my arms the other night," he whispered against her skin. "Do you remember also?"

At first she could not find her voice—she was too aware of his hard, lean body and the hunger in his gaze. Her voice came out in a throaty whisper. "I want you to always remember me."

A smile played on his lips. "It's up to you to decide how much I'll have to remember." He bent to kiss her eyelids. "I believe we can beget beautiful memories together."

His nearness was intoxicating. His words swept through her mind with a wildness that summoned her total surrender. In a last futile effort to save herself she blurted out, "I came here only to talk to you. I did not intend to—"

"Shh," he whispered, once more drawing her against his body. He closed his eyes, wishing he could absorb her into his skin. There was no doubt that she had bewitched him, but what did it matter? Everything had ceased to exist for him but the passionately beautiful woman he held in his arms. His longing heightened—he had to have her, all of her. When he felt her tremble with an answering longing, his arms tightened about her. She was so fragile and delicate that he wanted to precede slowly so he wouldn't frighten her with the untamed passion that raged through his body.

"You look at me with the eyes of a stranger," she said regretfully.

"Yet, not strangers," he said, not understanding her meaning. His mouth trailed down her cheek to her lips. "I have been in torment to taste your kiss again."

Royal gave herself over to the burning lips that drained any resistance she might have had. She felt light-headed, her heart pounding with hot blood that surged through her veins, and her body responded to his urgent desire.

Suddenly a moment of sanity returned. Royal moved out of his embrace and retreated quickly toward the door, all the while pulling her gown back in place. "I did not come here for this," she said with a quiver in her voice that belied her words.

"By your actions last night I find that hard to fathom. I know what you were feeling because I felt it, too. You cannot deny that if we had not been interrupted I would have been your conquest."

"Damon, you don't understand."

He moved to stand over her, and a thread of amusement laced his words. "Then perhaps you will explain it to me."

With shaking fingers she fumbled with the ribbon at her neck, trying to refasten it while he watched her.

At last he grasped her hand, raised it to his lips, and placed a burning kiss on the palm. "I have wearied of this game. Your words may deny that you want me, but your actions say otherwise." He pulled her stiff body against his and heard her sudden intake of breath. "Can you deny that you want me to touch you? That indeed you came here this evening hoping it would happen?"

She raised her eyes to him, unable to deny the truth. Oh, yes, she wanted him to touch her, to hold her, to have him tell her that she was beautiful and desirable.

He cupped her face and pressed a kiss on the tip of her upturned nose. "I am not afraid to admit I desire you and that all I can think about is the blue of your eyes and the softness of your body."

Royal knew she had allowed the situation to go beyond her control. What had started out as harmless teasing had become a dangerous circumstance. She had to gain control over her emotions. "Please, don't touch me anymore. I must talk to you."

"You are the most maddening woman I have ever met." He raised his hands as if to surrender. "You do insist on conversation at the most inopportune moments."

She moved to the fire, turning her back to him. "I have a confession to make, one that I fear will make you most unhappy with me."

With an impatient intake of breath, Damon studied the shadow of her profile reflected on the brick fireplace. "I'm always uncomfortable when a woman wants to bare her soul to me. I feel duty bound to point out that I am ill suited to the role of father confessor."

Slowly she turned to look into his eyes. "I do not need a father confessor. I need a champion."

"You are mistaken if you have cast me as your champion, since you are obviously English." He gestured for her to come closer. "It is a far different role I envisioned for myself in regard to you."

Reluctantly she moved forward until she stood beside him. "I need your help most desperately."

"Let me see if I understand this aright—you wish to strike a bargain with me? You want something from me and are willing to do whatever it takes to obtain it?"

She avoided his gaze. "I'll do whatever it takes to enlist your help," she admitted.

He grabbed her wrists, holding them in a firm grip. "Damn you! I make no bargain with you for what I could have with so little effort on my part. Do you think I don't know when a woman is ripe for the taking?" His eyes flashed with the intensity of a golden flame.

Before she could voice a protest, Damon's lips ground against hers with bruising force, muffling any objections she would have uttered. She tried to breathe, to push him away, but he held her fast. She thought her lungs would burst from want of air as his all-consuming kiss trapped the breath in her body. She twisted her head and tried to wrench free, but he held her in an unrelenting grip.

When Royal thought she could stand it no longer, he gentled his kiss. A mind-destroying flame moved through her body as his hands slid up her rib cage to cup her breasts while he rained kisses on her upturned face. All the fight drained out of her, and she gave herself willingly to the sensuous feelings he invoked.

"This," he whispered in her ear, "is what was meant to happen between us." "No. It's wrong."

"No, not wrong," he murmured against her parted lips. "This was destined to happen." He raised his head and studied her with golden intensity. "At our first meeting I knew we would be together like this. So did you."

A sob broke from deep inside her, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. "You are mistaken, Damon. At our very first meeting, you never thought of me in this way."

"You are playing games again."

"No, no more games. I should never have allowed it to go this far."

He made no reply as his gaze moved slowly over her features. No memory stirred in his mind. He was certain they had never met before. Why did she keep insisting that he should know her? he wondered in irritation.

"Damon," she cried from the depths of her soul, "don't you know me?" She pulled away from him. "Search your mind. You must remember!"

He held her at arm's length. "No, damn it! I don't know you! Do you think I would ever forget you if we had met before?"

She shook her head sadly. "You once promised you would not forget me, but apparently you have. In the past four years I lived each day hoping for a letter from you, but you never wrote me—not once."

Damon felt as if he had been hit by a thunderbolt as memories stirred to life within his head. He swallowed hard and shook his head in disbelief, while he examined each lovely detail of her face with new awareness.

"My God!" he said, taking a hasty step backward. "Royal Bradford!"

20

Damon's eyes burned with unleashed rage. "How dare you do this! Do you know me so little that you think I would ravish a child?"

He turned away from her and moved to stand at the window, staring out sightlessly. "When I think about what I did the other night"—he shook his head—"when I think about what could have happened between us—"

He was having difficulty accepting that the woman who had so obsessed him was the same sorrowful child who had been placed under his protection. He closed his eyes and with extraordinary strength tried to forget her sweetly curved body. He must forget how he had almost lost his head. Thank God they had been interrupted, or he might have—

After a moment of gathering his thoughts, he turned back to Royal. "What is the meaning of your actions, young lady?" he demanded furiously, every inch the outraged guardian.

Royal took a tentative step toward him. "First of all, you have already noticed that I am no longer a child. I grew up while you weren't paying attention, Damon. I've been grown up for a long time, but you didn't care."

"You are a child to me, Royal."

"You didn't feel that way the other night," she reminded him. "Or even a moment ago."

"I am trying to put that out of my mind." His voice came out in a groan of despair. "I can't imagine what possessed you to behave in such an outrageous manner. Did they teach you nothing at that fancy London school?"

"You sent me there and forgot about me." Four years of bitterness laced her words. "You never gave a thought to whether I was lonely, or that I might be homesick. You never answered my letters."

He looked at her with impatient irony. "That's absurd! As I recall, I made certain you had everything you wanted. I denied you nothing. How could you say I had forgotten you?"

"Yes, you denied me nothing, but it was my father's money that allowed me to live so well. It was no sacrifice to you and not of your doing. Mr. Bartholomew was more my guardian than you were."

He lowered his eyes. "As you say, it was no sacrifice to me."

Royal had not wanted to quarrel with Damon. She realized with a feeling of desperation that he was drawing away from her. She wanted him to look at her the way he had the other night, but he never would again. She was certain that because of her foolish actions she now disgusted him.

He was still seeking answers. "Why did you come to me playing games, Royal? What possessed you to behave in such a wanton manner?" His eyes hardened. "I can only hope this is not your usual practice with men."

She tossed her head defiantly and glared at him. "Of course I never acted with any other man the way I did with you," she said scornfully. "Surely you can't have such a low opinion of me?"

"I have always had a high opinion of you. It would seem it was you who held yourself in contempt. Otherwise how could you have behaved so brazenly?"

Every word he spoke was like a dagger in her heart. "It was not my intention to deceive you at first, but when you didn't know me, I merely followed your lead. I admit that what I did was unconventional, but I was desperate, Damon."

"You said there was something you wanted of me. This would be a good time to tell me what it is."

Anxiety clouded her eyes. "After I had enlisted your aid, it was my intention to return to England and never see you again. But tonight I knew I had to tell you the truth. No matter what you think of me, Damon, a lie does not come easily to my lips. Especially to someone I hold in such high regard."

"Did it occur to you simply to ask for my help? Have I ever denied you anything?"

Now her face reddened with shame. "I know that is what I should have done. I'll ask you now. Will you use your influence to gain the release of a man—an Englishman—who has been taken prisoner?"

His eyes burned into hers. "So, it was as I guessed. It was for a lover that you sought me out."

She put out her hand in a beseeching manner and then let it drop to her side. "I had to come to you, Damon. There was no one else who could help me."

Anger splintered inside him that she would use him to help another man. "What is this man to you?" he demanded harshly.

"He... I care a great deal for him. He asked me to marry him."

For a long moment silence hung heavy in the room while Royal and Damon stared at one another. She was the first to lower her eyes.

"Will you help me, Damon?" She took a step toward him. "I am desperate."

A strange depression settled on his shoulders, and he went to the window and watched the rain trail down the glass. "I sent you away an American, and you come back to me with the voice and actions of my enemies." He turned back to her and found her standing just behind him. "What possessed you to think I would help you free an Englishman? Do you ask me to turn away from everything I believe?"

Royal reached out to touch him, but he moved away. "I suppose I never thought what it would mean to you. And for that, I'm sorry."

"Yet you still ask it of me?"

"Damon, no one but you can help me. I hoped you would do this out of... because you have always given me what I... you have always taken care of me."

"I see. You have cast me as your father. How fortunate for me."

"No, you have never been like a father to me. But it has always been a comfort to me to know that you stood between me and harm. I could feel your presence, even in England. You were all I had left."

"You had your aunt Arabella," he reminded her, understanding for the first time how lonely she must have been.

"Yes, but she had her life in France. She's married now and lives in Rome."

He read the hurt in her eyes. "I don't know what you think I can do to help. Even I would be hard-pressed to obtain the release of an enemy."

She touched his sleeve imploringly. She hated herself for asking him to turn against his principles to help Preston, but she had no alternative. "But you can do it, Damon—I know you can!"

He shook her hand off. "Your faith may be misplaced, Royal. And understand this, I will not go against my country for anyone, not even you."

"Perhaps you could arrange a prisoner exchange," she pleaded. "Lord Preston is not without importance to England. His family wants him back."

"Lord Preston?"

"Preston Seaton, if you will." She dared not tell even Damon that Preston was now the duke of Chiswick.

"What was he doing here?"

"He didn't take me into his confidence, but he was on a diplomatic mission."

"Do you have any of the particulars as to how and where he was captured?"

"I am told by Colonel Campbell, the British commander in Savannah, that Preston was captured near Savannah in early October."

"So you know Campbell, the man who has devastated Savannah." There was accusation in his voice. "Does it not anger you that enemy soldiers walk the streets of Savannah? Are your loyalties so easily won and lost?"

She was hurt by his words, but she could see why he would think her frivolous in her fidelity. "I am loyal to my friends, Damon. If pressed, I would be loyal to you." There was bewilderment in her expression. "If you, or anyone, can tell me whom to believe in, I'll fall in line behind you. I lived in London, where I heard only the British views on what they call the 'rebellion.' I come here, and I am asked to be loyal to the country of my birth, and you refer to the war as a 'revolution.' Who am I to believe? Which is right, rebellion or revolution?"

Unwillingly his eyes moved down her throbbing throat, and he watched the way her breasts rose and fell with her passionate speech. Her eyes were bright, her head held at a proud angle. He was beginning to see her confusion, and he was partly to blame for it. He had left her to her English friends, so how could she be expected to blindly follow the convictions of many of her countrymen?

She had come to him because she thought he would help her, and he had not the heart to turn away from her. Too many people had abandoned her in her short life. Even her aunt Arabella, who had professed to care about the girl's welfare, had apparently neglected her, as he had suspected she would.

"I'll see what I can find out for you," he told her at last. "But don't expect anything to come of my inquiries. If this man is a prisoner, I will have very little influence over his jailers."

Hope flamed in her eyes. "All I ask is that you find him for me."

Damon wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her until she begged for mercy. He wanted to erase from her mind the memory of this Englishman for whom she had dared so much. He hated himself for asking, but he had to know. "Have you been intimate with this Preston Seaton?"

Her head snapped up, and she turned on him with a vengeance. "How could you suggest such an outrage? Preston would never touch me in that way. Don't mistake my behavior with you as a chink in my armor—I would never have allowed any other man the liberties I allowed you!"

He frowned, trying to understand her meaning. "Am I to feel honored because you chose me to torment?"

In a quick motion she came forward, making her golden hair swirl out about her. "Be outraged with me, Damon, even punish me, condemn my actions if you want to, but help me!"

He resisted the urge to reach out and touch her hair, to caress it between his fingers, to raise it to his lips. "I will see what I can do," he said, standing stiffly beside her.

"You will not regret this, Damon."

"I already regret it." He rubbed his forehead, and she noticed the tired lines beneath his eyes. She realized for the first time how much he was suffering because of this war. "If you will just locate Preston for me, I will ask nothing more of you. You have my promise that I never intend to be a burden to you again."

"You forget, Royal, that until you are married, you are very much my burden."

"I release you from that responsibility."

"You don't have that right, and I am bound by my commitment to your dead father. The question is, what do I do with you now? I cannot send you to Swanhouse."

"I will return to my own home in Savannah and await word from you."

"Am I to take it that the enemy knows that you have enlisted my help?"

"Of course not!" she said with indignation. "I would never tell them your name, any more than I would betray them to you."

She thought she saw pain in his eyes, but surely she was mistaken.

"You are in the enviable position, Royal, of sitting on a fence. You need lean neither this way nor that, but smile on both sides and admonish us when we do not conform to the image of what you think we should be. I wonder if you will always be safe on your fence, or if, one day, you will be called upon to make a choice?"

"Sitting on the fence, as you put it, does not come without its pain. It is agony to see the right and wrong on both sides. As for choosing sides, I will soon leave Savannah forever, but I will leave without ever having sacrificed my principles."

"Principles are not a luxury we can all afford. War is reality, Royal. Men are spilling their blood for something they believe in. We Americans have paid a high cost."

"Even if I am only a woman, I can still understand being willing to die for something I believe in."

"What you believe in is this Englishman you want me to find for you," he said scornfully.

"Yes, I do believe in Preston."

At that moment she was more child than woman, and Damon could see that she was deeply affected by what was happening to her. "I assume you have a pass to get through the British lines," he said, watching her closely.

She studied the floor. "Yes," she admitted, "signed by Colonel Campbell."

His expression did not change. "How are you able to get through our lines?"

She looked embarrassed. "I have a forged pass that Colonel Campbell gave me."

He drew in a heavy breath. "I see. It's dangerous work you do. Beware, Royal, that life does not ask more of you than you can give," he said, moving to the door. "I must leave you now. I'll get word to you if I locate your Preston Seaton."

Her hand went out to him, but he had already reached the door. Without another word to her, he pulled his tricorn over his forehead and disappeared into the rain.

Royal stood for a long moment at the window. "I have already been asked to give more than I can, Damon," she said to the empty room. "By asking you to help an Englishman, I have hurt you, and in so doing, hurt myself."

Would Damon ever forgive her for what she had done to him? Would he ever look at her with respect?

***

Royal stood before Oliver Greenburg with a disbelieving frown on her face. "You were my father's lawyer, and you say there is no money left in his estate, yet you cannot, or will not, tell me where the money has gone?"

"I am not at liberty to tell you that, Mistress Bradford."

She shook her head. "I've never given the slightest thought to finances. It didn't occur to me that the money would run out."

Oliver Greenburg realized that Damon Routhland had not told Mistress Bradford that her father had left her penniless. If that was what her guardian wanted her to think, he would keep his own counsel.