No Choice but Surrender (22 page)

"So answer me this. When she touched my face, did she recognize me, or was it again merely a trick of her poor, confused mind?" Brienne persisted, growing angry at Avenel's forced lack of interest.

"She was mistaken."

"Ah, mistaken.
Of course.
There are so many women at Osterley with my color hair, and my—"

"Your inquiries may turn against you one day, Brienne. Don't read more into a situation than is there." He cut her off.

Her frustration mounting, Brienne took a new tack as they crossed the gates into Osterley. "You gave Mistress Blake the new roof, did you not?"

She noted Avenel's affirming grunt and continued. "It was a kind gesture." She then became
more sly
. "Perhaps it was done in repayment for a debt? The old woman seems to believe you're a Morrow. No doubt she is very loyal to my family and could provide you with all sorts of information, befuddled and otherwise."

"I gave her the new roof for the simple reason that she was in need of it. She is blind and alone. I cannot sit at my board every night when there are old women in the township without a decent dwelling place." He slowed his pace as they passed by the finger lake.

"Why do you say Mistress Blake is alone? There is the girl, Jill, who takes care of her." Her ire was mounting, but still Brienne spoke civilly. Watching Avenel stop, she thought she would burst from frustration. Would he ever give her a satisfactory answer to even one of her questions? The wind picked up, but she hugged her cloak around her. This might be her last chance to wheedle some answers out of him before her father arrived. She could not miss the opportunity simply because she was growing cold. While she waited for Avenel to speak, she leaned back on the trunk of a dead elm.

"Jill takes care of her now." Avenel rested his hand on the trunk near her shoulder. He looked up at the brilliant blue sky, and his dark hair gleamed in the powerful sunshine.

"I suppose you provided the girl for her, too?" Brienne studied him, uncomfortable with his closeness. Her eyes, helplessly appreciative of his fine, masculine form, quickly turned away. Instead, she focused her attention on the lake.

"Jill's family was living near starvation. Her parents are elderly, and their only child, Jill, was hardly employable. Not only is she deaf and dumb, but she was listless and withdrawn as well. However, the family would not consent to accepting charity." He looked down to where Brienne's cloak parted. The satin bows that held her stomacher in place peeked out. Slowly he fingered the last of them near her busk, seemingly in innocent amusement. He distracted her by continuing to talk. "I thought it the best way to handle the situation. I pay her to care for the old woman, and now she is the provider for her family."

"It was a generous offer." Brienne forced herself to be gracious. Quietly, she added, "I know the earl would never have been so kind, nor would he have taken the time to see that his people's needs were met." She watched the chill gray waters of the lake flow to the shallow shore like ruching on taffeta.

"The girl has a purpose to her life now.
And 'twas simple enough to give her one."
His eyes were lowered to
her
 
khelle
,
and his lashes, thick and black, fluttered with the calculated movement of his eyes.

"What purpose have you given me then, Master Slane? I bid you tell me, and do not leave me in this void created by you and my father." Now seriously in pursuit of his answer, she took the undone ribbons from his inquisitive hands. Indignant, she noticed that all but one bow had become untied. She ineptly tried to tie them once more.

His hands free, Avenel thoughtfully rubbed his jaw.
"Your purpose, little one?"

"If that poor, cowed little girl deserves a purpose to her life, then surely I deserve one, too." She tried to keep her voice even, but there was so much emotion in her breast that she could hardly contain it all. Her
khelle
seemed impossible to handle, and with a vengeance she dropped the ribbons and confronted him. "You're so kind to those around you—just look what you've done for the girl, Jill, and for Vivie. Can't you give me that kindness also and let me go?" She tossed her head and looked him in the eye. This time, she vowed, she wouldn't let him go without answering. After seeing the deaf girl, Jill, maybe he would see the comparison as clearly as she did. And perhaps he would finally prove that his feelings for her ran deeper than he showed.

"You have a purpose at Osterley, wildflower."

How bitter tasting the resentment was in her mouth! It was not fair that he could use her so! It had appeared that with the advent of Rose's and Cumberland's wedding there might have been some small seeds of consideration growing between them. But now all she could feel was the return of full-blooming, passionate hatred. Avenel cared not a whit for her. His only concern was to make sure she would be useful in his schemes. He treated even the paupers of the township with more respect.

"I see," she said coldly, and made a move to go.

"No, you don't see." He gripped her arm and forced her back against the tree trunk. Placing each of his hands against the trunk on either side of her head, he leaned all his weight onto his arms. When he had positioned himself, she was trapped by his large frame.

"I won't be mauled again, Avenel." She looked up at him defiantly, but he just smiled, his sensuous lips baring clean, white teeth like a hungry wolf's.

"I've given you a purpose, little one. Make me happy. Make that your job here at Osterley."

"That would be a wife's duty, not mine!" she cried out, still glaring at him. Pulling on his muscular arm, she was determined to go back to the house. But he only leaned closer and put a stop to her physical resistance.

"But I have no wife. And never shall, I suppose. What then?" he reasoned harshly. It was clear that her aversion to him only fueled his own anger and passion. Lowering himself upon her, he forced her gaze to lock with his.

"I cannot bring you happiness. If anyone knows this, you do!" She spurned him, even though, as his lips moved closer, her own burned with longing. Struggling to be out of the prison of his arms, she found that her opposition was no match for his. Her physical strength appeared inconsequential when he desired to prove his dominance.

"You can make me very happy, my love," he whispered as he closed the gap between them.

"I don't want—" His mouth finally descended on hers, and it seemed that not an inch of her body was free from contact with him. Before his attack had even begun, Brienne knew where he was leading her. She also
knew,
that at that moment she should have been kicking and screaming like a fishwife to be free. But as his lips sought her traitorous ones so compellingly, she found herself responding and with
a ferocity
she had never dreamed possible, not even in her most impassioned reveries of romance.

He demanded from her a desire equal to his. But beneath his ravenous kiss she had the insane desire not only to conform to his wishes but to exceed them. So instead of fighting him off, she allowed his hand through her cloak. With strong, experienced fingers, he undid the last bow of her
khelle.
Her breath was released in a long, burning sigh as his hand finally slid by her pinned stomacher and took possession of her breast, still encased in the silk of her stays. With renewed passion, his mouth delved deeper with his kiss, and she was jammed against the tree. Her hat fell off, and her netting ripped against the roughness of the trunk. But she didn't care.

Shamelessly, her hands went up to touch his face. His cheeks were scratchy and hard, and in the back of her mind she thought that he would have to scrape his face with a razor again before dinner. She heard his breath quicken as his thumb brushed across her nipple, and she trembled when the sensitive peak hardened. Placing her hands inside the warmth of his cloak, she desired to feel his
chest,
too, his that was hard, hair roughened, and broad. With shy, awkward movements, she wove her way through the layers of waistcoat and neckcloth to find the ties to his shin. She pulled on them and was immediately rewarded by the touch of his lightly furred chest. As if struck by an uncontrollable madness, she found herself sweeping her fingers along his muscular front. At that moment she thought nothing would please her more than to see him naked and to explore every part of his forged, muscular body.

A cold metal object dangled by her hand. The brass key implanted itself in her palm, and she pulled it to her as if by instinct. Feeling the tug around his neck, Avenel lifted his mouth from hers. Pausing, he waited for her to speak.

"Avenel," she
whispered,
her breath heavy and labored, her eyes dark and impassioned, "can we forget this crazy scheme? Is that at all possible?" She held the brass key out to him. She knew he felt the tremors of her heart, for his hand was still enclosed around her breast. "Give this to me. Give this to me freely, and I will make you very happy. I promise."

There was silence, as if he were thinking over her proposition. But then, very assuredly,
came
a negative shake of his head. "You cannot have your freedom."

"What if I give you what you have been asking for?" she bargained, somehow feeling disappointed that it had come to this. "What if I spend this night warming your bed?"

"Then I see no reason to wait for nightfall." He bent his head and began the madness again. This time he kissed her throat, moving lower and lower, until she released a shudder of delight.

"And then you will give me my comb?" she panted, lacing her fingers through his dark hair. He bedeviled her to no end with his lovemaking. He fogged her thoughts, and clouded her goals. But shaking her head, she fought for the sanity to ask again, "And then you will give me my comb?"

"Perhaps then," he answered aloofly, and there was the tiniest shard of insincerity in his voice. Immediately she stiffened and seized her hands from his hair.

"And perhaps not, eh, Master Slane?" she cried bitterly, pushing his hand off her stays. Feeling more empty and unfulfilled than she had ever felt before, she retorted, "You would have me comply with all your wishes, I think, but then you would deny me my payment. What a shame we have spent so much time together, for now I can tell when you are
lying
.
You bastard!"

"If I lie or not, what does it matter? You have little choice but to accept my dictates," he snapped.

"Never!"
She pulled her bodice together, already feeling the heat of humiliation staining her cheeks.

"What pretty disdain, my lady! You weren't feeling quite so repulsed a moment before." He snatched her hands and forced them to her sides.

"I loathe
you,
I loathe your house, your touch, your kiss!" She raised her eyes to his in battle.

"Shall I prove otherwise?"

She felt his breath on her lips.

"No!" She suddenly found the strength to break away from him. Stumbling away from the elm, she watched as he taunted her with the brass key and placed it calmly back into his shirt, where she could no longer see it. "I hate it! Do you hear me? I hate that key and everything it stands for! And God willing, it will not be long before I completely hate you!" She backed away and scooped up her hat and netting, which had come off with their kissing. Spinning around, she ran to the great house in the distance, feeling, for some strange reason, mournfully sad.

When she got to the steps of the house, she saw that an unfamiliar carriage had been pulled almost out of view into the stable block. But running up through the portico and through the courtyard, she dashed into the marble hall without thinking of her appearance or the visitors.

"Well, well, if it isn't the little American cousin." Lady Venetia Culpepper's voice echoed through the hall as she and the Duchess of Hardington entered it from the gallery. Venetia was coldly beautiful in a round gown of chardonnay-colored silk. She examined every facer of Brienne's appearance, from the pieces of tree bark clinging to her unbound hair to the bows still untied on her bodice.
Speechless and angry, Brienne saw Avenel storm through the doors behind her.
He ignored the old footmen and flung his coat onto one of the scroll end stools. He then gave Brienne the blackest look she had ever seen.

"I will not stand another outburst like that, or I'll give you something to be truly angry about!" he bellowed.

"So the little beggar has been unwilling, has she?" Venetia walked farther into the hall. Avenel finally saw both women, and he forced his gaze from Brienne. "And after all she has put you through. Tsk, tsk." Venetia shot Brienne a malicious look and gazed contemptuously at her undone
ecbelle.
But Brienne vowed not to tie them until she was safely out of the woman's view. She would not give Lady Venetia the satisfaction of seeing her embarrassment.