Helen Dickson (19 page)

Eyes down, he carried on writing. Maria’s heart con
tracted as she moved to sit down on the green sofa placed at right angles to the fire. The silence was so complete that the scratching of the pen across the paper seemed to her to make a shattering noise. The light from the candles fell on his aquiline nose and firmly jutting chin while deeper shadows lurked around his firm mouth and eyes, now hidden by lowered lids.

He had discarded his coat and waistcoat and neckcloth, and his fine linen shirt, open at the neck, revealed a firm, strongly muscled throat. She stared at him, for the moment forgetful of the reason which had brought her there, conscious of a strange rush of tenderness at the sight of a heavy lock of black hair which fell forward over his forehead. She saw the well-defined eyebrows and wanted to go and touch them as one touches a bird’s feathers. She was suddenly so sharply conscious of her love that she had to make an effort not to throw her arms about his neck.

She watched him, noting the authority, the strength held in check as he wrote. So many conflicting emotions churned inside her, fighting for ascendancy. Ever since she had become conscious of the depth of her feelings, her thoughts had not gone beyond holding and caressing—not knowing much beyond that, she had felt the delight of secrecy and swirling madness at her forbidden thoughts. But now, as she watched him, he was more attractive than ever, more desirable, and the need to be closer to him was more vivid than ever.

Suddenly he threw down the quill and pushing his chair back stood up, bringing Maria down from the dreaming heights of a moment before. She stood up quickly.

‘I’m sorry, Charles. I didn’t mean to interrupt.’

The metallic blue of his eyes was hard as he looked at her. ‘You haven’t. I was writing a letter.’

‘It’s a strange time to do that.’

‘To my mother.’

‘Oh.’ She understood. ‘Have—you told her—about…?’

‘The duel? No.’

Maria moved closer. ‘Charles, please don’t do this,’ she pleaded, gazing at the cold, dispassionate man standing before her. He looked powerful, aloof and completely self-assured. It was impossible to believe that Henry might kill him or maim him for life.

‘I have to. It is a matter of honour.’

‘But—are duels not illegal?’

‘Technically, yes, but people are rarely prosecuted for doing so.’

‘And have you chosen your second?’

He nodded. ‘Michael Mead, a close friend of mine, who also happens to be my brother-in-law.’

‘And a surgeon?’

‘That, too.’

‘Where is the rendezvous?’

‘Green Park. Don’t worry, Maria. Everything—even down to the pistols that are to be used—has been taken care of.’

Her face pale and drawn with worry, Maria flinched at this brutal reminder of the deadly weapons. ‘Charles, I really don’t want you to do this. I beseech you. Speak to Henry?’ she implored passionately. ‘If—if you could settle the matter by firing into the air…’

He looked at her sharply, almost with contempt at
what she was suggesting. ‘If you are asking me to delope,’ he said in a low, dangerous voice, ‘the answer is no. To do that could imply that a man’s opponent wasn’t worth shooting. It is what a man might do if he considers the duel is stupid.’

‘But isn’t that what it is?’ she cried. ‘Ever since I told Henry I wouldn’t marry him things have got out of hand. This has nothing to do with you and I feel entirely to blame. I don’t want anyone fighting over me—and certainly not you. Never you, Charles.’

Hearing the catch in her voice, he said nothing as his fascinated gaze moved over her, touching her everywhere. Her new pale-blue robe flowed in fluid lines about her body, moulding itself against her, showing the womanly roundness of her breasts and the graceful curve of her hips. Her shining black hair fell over her shoulders in a gloriously untidy mass, framing a face of heartbreaking beauty. Pride and courage showed in every feature, from her small nose, which was lovely and pert, to her mouth, vulnerable and soft, as soft as the breasts that swelled beneath her robe. Her eyes surrounded by dark silken lashes were like large luminous emeralds as they anxiously searched his face, looking for some sign that he would somehow find a way out of this mess.

‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he said on a softer note, the rigid lines of his face relaxing and a smile forming on his lips. ‘Young ladies who visit gentlemen in their rooms are considered—fast.’

‘Proprieties are the least of my worries just now. Besides,’ she murmured, tilting her head to one side, her look lingering, ‘it isn’t all that long ago when you came to mine.’

‘Circumstances were different then and our situation was quite desperate.’

‘Not as desperate as they are now. Charles, Henry might shoot you—he—he might…’

‘What? Kill me?’

Her face blanched. ‘Don’t—don’t say that. I can’t bear it. Please persuade Henry to fire in the air, and if you do the same—’

‘I’ll be admitting my guilt.’ Reaching out, he cradled her shocked face between his two hands, drawing her closer to him, and his voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Now if I had done something to be guilty of, Henry would be justified in challenging me to a duel. Suddenly I feel tempted to give him just cause—although I confess that I have lusted after you in my mind ever since I first set eyes on you, so I suppose I could be guilty in that sense.’

While her heart soared at the intimacy of his words, Maria’s gently naïve heart rejected his self-proclaimed guilt, knowing only that were it not for her, he would not be doing this. ‘I cannot believe that,’ she murmured.

‘Believe it,’ he countered, willing to let her cast him in the role of her knight in shining armour if it would help his cause. His eyes caressed her face and he sighed, smoothing the curve of her cheeks with his thumbs. ‘Ever since we embarked on our journey you have been like a shadow by my side. Everywhere I went, whatever I was doing, I could see you. I am not made of stone, Maria, and, God help me, I cannot stop wanting you.’

‘And I despaired of hearing you say those words to me. I came here because I am worried about you—naturally so.’

He smiled crookedly. ‘I like it when you worry about
me. I like it very much.’ He bent closer, his lips drawing perilously close. ‘Now you are no longer engaged to Winston, you are allowed to kiss me. You are very beautiful.’

Her eyes widened in disbelief. He was teasing her, he had to be. The effect of his words was disconcerting, bringing a faint flush to her cheeks. ‘Beautiful? No one has ever said that to me before. Constance was far prettier than me.’

‘Not to me.’

‘How do you know that?’ she asked, feeling his warm breath fan her face. ‘As I recall, the two of you never met.’

‘I saw you both at the church—at the Count’s funeral. Constance could not hold a candle to you.’

‘Oh, I see. I didn’t know.’

‘You seem surprised that I say you are beautiful. Why shouldn’t a man say such things to you?’

‘I always dreamed someone would, but I always considered myself to be on the plain side.’

‘You actually dreamed such things?’

She smiled up at him softly. ‘Even plain girls have dreams.’

‘Maria, take it from me that you are not plain. You are very lovely,’ he murmured, more attracted to her than to any other woman and wondering about her allure. It was more than her face and body that attracted him. Maria was a glowing, soft gentleness that warmed him, a fiery spirit that challenged him, and a radiance that kept drawing him towards her with increasing power.

‘Do not attempt to flatter me, Charles, because you haven’t a hope of success,’ Maria gently teased, enjoying the feel of his hands on her face, the strength
of his long fingers. ‘And please stop trying to change the conversation. We were discussing ways in which to prevent you getting shot.’

‘No, Maria, you were.’

‘But Henry is a crack shot.’

‘Be that as it may—when he’s sober, that is. I am not unskilled.’

‘I don’t doubt that. I just hope you know what you are doing. Little wonder you looked so tense when I came in just now.’

‘Perhaps a little relaxation will settle my nerves.’ His words were suggestive, his look both intimate and provocative.

‘Your nerves?’ The words came out in a gasp. ‘Charles Osbourne, right now it is your nerve that must be reckoned with.’

He chuckled low in his throat, sliding his hands about her waist and drawing her close to his chest. ‘You wrong me. I know my wants and I am only seeking them out if I am to honour the challenge. Just think, Maria, your kiss might be my last.’

‘Honour? You have so little honour that you would blackmail me into succumbing to your demands,’ she teased.

She saw his cheeks crease with a maddeningly slow and roguish smile. ‘You are already in my arms and I do not see you struggling to be set free.’

When she opened her mouth to argue he silenced the words with a finger on her lips. ‘Hush now. I don’t want to lose moments in talking. They may never come again. I have prayed so hard to hold you again like this.’

Fear for him drove the joy she felt from her heart.
‘What do you mean—these moments may never come again? The duel—’

‘I have no illusions about that,’ he said. ‘Winston will not be satisfied until he has—’

‘Oh, no—not…’ She could not bring herself to say the word that, in the intimate setting of Charles’s bedroom, had acquired a dreadful reality. But Charles nodded.

‘Very possibly—even probable.’

He lightly brushed her lips with his own, tasting the sweetness of them. ‘It is always best to look things in the face. Unless Winston has a change of heart and will agree to delope, without loss of honour, then it’s unlikely I shall walk away from the duel unharmed. I know that.’

‘This is insane. I will not let you sacrifice yourself for me. I shall go and speak to Henry myself.’

‘There is only one thing you could do to stop the duel.’

‘What is that?’

‘Marry him as you originally intended. It is the only thing that will get him to call it off.’

‘I can’t do that,’ she said in a small voice, ‘but if I thought it would prevent anything dreadful happening to you, then I would.’

‘You would do that for me?’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘Bless you for that,’ he said, his voice thick with emotion, deeply moved by the sincerity of her reply, ‘but I would not let you. You would be consigning yourself to a lifetime of misery.’

His arms tightened round her and he sought her lips again. Clasped to his hardened frame, Maria could feel his heart hammering so hard that she seemed to feel it
in her own breast. She was suddenly conscious of his nearness, of every detail about him once more, and the energy that radiated from him. She felt the shuddering in his whole body and she knew his desires were growing beyond his power to master them.

His mouth on hers was warm, firm and rousing, his lips searing her, possessing her. She struggled weakly, trying to summon some logic from all this, and all she could think of was that tomorrow he could die for her, for his refusal to hand her over to Henry. This touched her deeply. How she loved him in that moment. It was a feeling almost too full, too powerful to bear, as passion and a deeper longing stabbed through her like a piercing pain.

The fires within her now burned hot and bright with passion, and Charles found himself in the midst of a kiss that was becoming wildly erotic—and rapidly getting out of control.

He heard her low moan of awed pleasure, but instead of encouraging him to press her to further intimacy, the helpless sound made him tense and then gently he released her lips, reminding himself that it was his duty to protect and be responsible for her, even though that meant denying himself.

‘I think you had better go back to your room, Maria, otherwise I’m in danger of taking you to bed—which is becoming more appealing by the second, but may result in me missing the duel altogether.’

She drew back in alarm and he laughed and pulled her back into his embrace. ‘On the other hand, my second could stand in for me. He’s not as fine a shot or as fast as I am, but it’s me Winston wants to shoot so he may decide to fire in the air after all.’ He saw Maria’s
eyes fill with hope, which he dashed with his next words. ‘Of course it’s out of the question. The code of honour dictates that I attend.’

‘Yes, I imagine it does.’ She sighed and stepped out of his arms. ‘I suppose I’d better go.’

‘I think you should. Love is a slow process, my love,’ he murmured, ‘and much as I would like you to stay so we can enjoy it to its fullest, I think you should go.’

‘Do you want me to?’

‘What do you think?’

She looked at him, seeing the answer in his eyes. This might be their last chance to be together, their only chance. Nervous now, she turned her gaze away, but not before he had seen the need in her eyes.

Charles placed his finger gently beneath her chin and turned her head back to his. ‘Yes, Maria, I want you, but this is not the time.’

‘But I want to stay with you. I don’t want to lose you.’

‘Not tonight. Not like this.’

‘But this time may be all we have.’