No Choice but Surrender (37 page)

"You were delirious with fever. It's the only answer," she forced herself to say. Why was he torturing her like this? Was he trying to give her another lesson in humiliation? Violently she forced all her thoughts to Ralph Harcourt and to how she would be free tomorrow, at last.

Seeing her pensive face, Avenel walked up to her and stared at her until Brienne could no longer stand his piercing gaze. Giving him an angry, repudiating look, she expected him to back away. But instead Avenel bent and kissed her, innocently taking her soft mouth to his.

She should have refused him. She should have turned her head away and clearly shown him the distaste she had for his touch. But then his kiss should have repulsed her. It should have made her feel victorious in her decision to flee, victorious in her feelings about him.

She moaned.
Oh, but it didn't.
Instead, a wild, reckless yearning leaped up in her. Desperately she tried to deny what was happening to her, but all too soon she knew she couldn't help herself. Avenel was dangerous, even more so when he was quiet and gentle. Opening her mouth to him, she saw herself falling back into the net he had cast upon her at Osterley. She would have to get away tomorrow; her thoughts whirled around her in a frenzied manner. Tomorrow she would have to get away. . . .

She felt a jolt of surprise run down his body when he recognized her needy response, and she was surprised when he stopped kissing her. He moved to leave her, but Brienne dung to him with hunger that exceeded his own.

"What is this?" He looked down at her after the kiss had ended. "Has my lovely young virgin grown lonely in the past weeks?" His gray eyes mocked her.

"I am no virgin," she stated, feeling shame at her response to him. She had tried to sound accusing, but somehow her words just came out low and husky.

"And perhaps 'tis a good thing, too."
His warm, hard knuckles moved down her breastbone until they were lost inside the velvet dressing gown. With a shiver that ran up her spine, she felt him brush her nipple with his thumb until it became hard and sensitive. Looking up at him, she saw invitation in his face, but still she was hesitant and doubtful.

"I can almost see love in your eyes, Avenel. But when you're through with me tonight, what will be there in its stead tomorrow?"

"If you think you see love, then believe it is there, wildflower." He bent to kiss her once more, and then slowly he picked her up from the chair and placed her on the turned- down bed. With a strange mixture of gratitude and shame, tension and relief, she let him remove her dressing gown. Then, bare and lovely, she placed his palm over the softly rounded part of her belly that was their child. He seemed enchanted by that little curve, and he stroked her and then moved down to kiss her. His lips left a trail of liquid desire wherever they touched her silken skin.

"I've missed you, little one."

He rid himself of his clothes, and before she could fathom what was taking place, he was holding her next to him, worshiping her like a goddess with his large, masterful body. His kisses were long and unsettling. They left her weakened but at the same time greedy for more. She moaned beneath his caressing hand, saying over and over again, "I want this, I want this." Yet when she moved to say, "But how can this be?" his lips ferociously covered hers, not allowing her to finish, as if to say that tonight there were no contradictions. And even though she knew better, she believed him.

Hearing him groan, she felt the ultimate proof of his desire along the smooth satin of her inner thigh. His hands went possessively to her breast, and after filling his palms with her sweet flesh, he lowered his mouth to taste them. Sighing with fulfillment, she reveled in the moment; her mind, body, and soul ached with love for this man. He was her dark-haired lover, and it was so easy to forget everything when he worked his.
particular
magic on her.

Only when he strove to mount her did reality intervene. Her concern must have been evident when her hand went to her belly, but slowly he moved it away, reassuring her that the baby would not suffer from their lovemaking. She watched as he balanced himself on his corded arms, being careful not to unduly rest his weight upon her. She opened herself to him, letting his thrusts push her to a pinnacle of unbearable pleasure.

"Never leave me again, Brienne. Never leave me again." Avenel groaned above her. Though she tossed her head back and forth, unable to come up with an answer, in the end she was able to ease her lonely ache only by pulling him onto her and finally holding him so close that she feared his back would show her marks in the morning.

In the time that followed they lay side by side on the white feather mattress in peaceful silence. Even with the dim light of the candles, she knew he was near. Her softly tapered leg fit
intimately between his own
. With every breath she took she thought only of him. Her senses reeled in the aftermath of their pleasure, and she resented the sound of servants' voices that even now rang through the house. The sound was too intrusive. They reminded her of the real world with all its contradictions and complications.

"Brienne."

"Must you speak?" She raised herself to her elbows and kissed Avenel full on the mouth.

"Listen."

"I cannot." She kissed him again, hoping they could once again succumb to the hushed, dreamlike state of their love- making.

"Love, come back to Osterley." His voice was strained. "For that I'll give you anything you want, anything I have. Just don't fight me anymore, little one. Come back to Osterley with me, and whatever you want is yours."

Brienne paused a moment before speaking. "I will go back with you for one thing only."

"Your price?"

"There is no price. Not even your wealth can buy me what I desire." She took a long, deep breath to still her trembling breast.

"So what is it you want?" He raised one jet eyebrow mistrustfully.

I want to be the girl
ivith
no past,
she thought, looking back into the fire.
I want you to love me.

"Brienne?
What is it you desire?" his voice prodded low and gentle.

She closed her eyes. Was it
poindess
to tell him of her true feelings? Would she again look pitiful, once more revealing her love for a man who couldn't love her?

"Say that you love me, Avenel." She moved from him slightly to look into his handsome face. His eyes were shadowed in the flickering light, and she wasn't sure how to read them. "Just say the words to me." She hesitated and then whispered, "As I have spoken them to you."

"There are things you don't understand, wildflower." Thoughtfully he stroked her rich hair, which spilled over his chest.

"I understand everything. My father is between us." Suddenly she felt herself panic. "Just say the words, Avenel. If you told me you loved me, I would gladly go back to the Park. For that I would even gladly be your whore."

"Never say that word to me again!" He shot up from the bed. His body, outlined by the fire, was sleek and fit. He paced the room like a lithe African cat held in a cage.

"Avenel!" she cried out. "Please don't be angry! It's not your anger I want."

"Then don't say that word. It does not become you."

"I won't. Just tell me you love me." She clasped at the velvet robe that lay by her side. Nervously she waited to hear the words, but he did not speak. "I know marriage was not good for my mother. But I'm not asking you for that now. Right now I don't care a whit for my reputation. Just say the words, Avenel. It's all I ask. Please." She looked at his large powerful back, now turned to her to hide the expression on his face.
And it must be terrible indeed,
she thought half-heartedly, wondering how she would ever win back her pride if he refused her request.

" 'Tis
not a matter of love. I'm afraid it never has been," he said dismally. "There's so much you don't understand, Brienne, things even about yourself."

"Then tell me! Make me understand!" Anxiously she placed her dressing gown over her bosom, as if by hiding her nakedness she could hide her vulnerability. She then watched as he fingered a small Meissen figurine on the mantel. It was so fragile and delicate next to his strong hand that the two seemed incongruous. But she was not going to be the porcelain girl, she told herself. She was not going to wait for a knock of his hand to shatter her very existence. He had not said the words. So from now on she would force her emotions to become as hard as the diamonds on her comb. It was the only way she could survive.

"This is very unwise." Avenel grappled with his decision to talk to her. "The situation is already dangerously out of hand. But I will explain." He turned to her, but she scooted back on the bed, refusing his seductive touch. After he noted her reaction, his mouth formed a mean, hard line, and he said spitefully, "You belittle yourself one minute, and the next you're once again Lady Brienne, estranged daughter of a make-believe earl. Make up your mind, little one. Are you beneath me or above me?" He went to her and grabbed her in his arms.

"I am above you, you rutting beast," she spat at him, feeling hurt, beyond repair.

"Then play out your part." He tossed her gently but angrily back onto the bed. "But remember—everything lies with me,
Lady
Brienne.
Everything.
And words of love won't change the circumstances except make them even more bloody complicated than they already are." He gathered up his clothes to retire from the room.

"Everything does not lie with you. You believe you've such control. But even with all your colonial money and your precious Osterley, Oliver Morrow still has the one thing you lack. He still has the power of his title and with it the power of fear."

"Oliver Morrow has nothing, I tell you. Nothing! I have made sure of it! But if it's the power of the Labordes you fear, then cower before the last, lovely maid, for I possess all their power and more." When he stopped speaking, Brienne was silent. He seemed puzzled by her reaction to his sudden announcement. "What, are you not going to refute what I have said? Or denounce my earldom? I have now relieved you of all vestiges of your infamous, yet useful, heritage, and I hear no sound coming from your lips."

"I don't believe you," Brienne finally said, wondering even herself if she didn't.

"And what don't you believe? That my name is actually Avenel Slane Morrow? That a ruthless ship's captain named Quentin Spense could have the acting ability to last for the run of a play for twenty years? That he, who looked enough like the true Oliver Morrow, was able to kill my father before he could get back to England, the land he had left many years earlier? Or is this what you cannot bring yourself to believe." He looked spiteful. "That he could do enough damage to the earl's offspring that they would hardly present a threat to his masquerade? Are my scars not real enough for you?"

"Don't say another word. My mother wouldn't marry an imposter! She was beautiful and wealthy! She would not have been a party to such trickery!"

"She did not know. She was young and perhaps believed herself in love. But she did leave him eventually. My guess is she found out the truth but was too powerless to do anything about it."

"No! She wanted me to be the daughter of an earl! She wanted me to have my tide, at least! And my comb! That proves that what you say is false! It is part of the Laborde jewels!"

"Think, love.
Who has the piece that matches the comb? Not your father." Brienne thought back to the night when Avenel had brought her the beautiful amethyst necklace. Then she hadn't seen the connection, but now she knew that if she looked at the two pieces closely she would see that they matched. And the Laborde seal was probably even stamped somewhere on the necklace, exactly as it was on her comb.

"You're mad.
Crazed.
My father won't relinquish his title to you." She held fast, despite her doubts.

"He never had a title to relinquish," Avenel said disgustedly.

"But he'll never give it up." Brienne felt her insides turn to ice. "He'll see us both die before he'd do that."

"So you understand."

She nodded her head slowly; her realization grew out of fear for her child.

"Then you can understand why I must hold you at a distance."

"Yes," she said numbly.

"I'm sorry," he said. He walked up to her and placed his hand on her hair.

But Brienne's mind cried out for time to sort out the meaning of his words. "I have no need for the company of an earl," she whispered. "Please go."

"Avec
plaisir
.
Just be ready to return to Osterley in the morning," Avenel snapped, and he stalked out of the room without even bothering to button his breeches. Watching him go, Brienne felt sorrow for them both. They were struggling so hard, and there seemed to be no end to their troubles. But when Avenel closed her door behind him, she felt the frost melt inside her. When she wept, she wept for herself alone.

The next morning, after a painfully restless night, Brienne was in her room packing her belongings. Genny was helping her, and amidst the sounds of sliding drawers and swooshing silks, she asked the little maid, "How long did they say they'd be gone?"

"Mr. Cumberland and the master were to see about fixing the carriage. It seems they made such a mad dash to get to Bath that the master feared they might have sprung something in their wake." Genny lovingly folded several aprons.

"Mr. Harcourt did tell you he would be here this morning?" Brienne asked for the hundredth time.

"Oh, yes, miss. Most assuredly he did." Genny
nodded,
a frazzled look on her face. Brienne knew something—or rather someone—had made the girl jump.

If only Ralph would get here before they return, Brienne thought as she quickly packed her last gown. She wasn't taking much—only the clothes she'd acquired while at The Crescent* She was leaving to Genny the care of the other gowns that had been brought from Osterley. She wouldn't
be needing
those any longer.

Anxiously, Brienne thanked Genny for her help during the hours since Avenel had arrived. She then took her willow baskets and waited for Ralph in the drawing room, knowing from there she would more easily hear his carriage pull up than from her room. How she hoped and prayed he would be here soon!

Brienne had hardly believed her good fortune when Genny brought her her morning chocolate and told her about Avenel's absence. Taking fate by the horns, she'd wasted not a moment and had quickly packed so she would be ready for Ralph's arrival. Brienne was still not sure what she was going to tell him, but she knew she had to take her chance while she had it. Although at first she'd scoffed at the idea of Avenel's daring to stop her if she chose to go with another man, she had taken pause, thinking of all the things in the past that Avenel had dared to do. It was then that Brienne knew it was better to sneak out of Number One like a thief than to try to leave openly.

As she waited in the drawing room, she tried desperately to ease her jumping nerves. She gazed at the painted ceiling, letting her eyes follow the curves and plumage of the wreathed honeysuckle and husked festoons. It was a calming sight and in marked contrast to the street noise that seeped through even the tightest window frames. Outside the sedan chairs carried the rheumatic and the gout-ridden. Morning was the time to take the cure, and the convalescents spent it in the baths. Then, wrapped up like babes in swaddling, they were carried right to their beds in the black sedan chairs. The only good thing about the odd Bath traffic was that the sound of a carriage could easily be distinguished from it. And Brienne was certain that Ralph would want to take his bride away in his carriage.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Brienne heard wheels creak to a halt in front of the house. She stood up and descended the main stairs, clutching her willow baskets. There was knocking at the front door, and she stood in the empty, faux marble hall, watching as the footman answered the door.

"Brienne!
What is it? Have you changed your mind?" The door opened, and with a wretched start of indecision, Brienne acknowledged Ralph Harcourt as he stood in the threshold.

"I—No.
I mean, I need your help." She moved forward to greet him.

"What is it, princess? You can't imagine how alarming I found your note. What is it?" He caressed her cheek gently.

"The master of the house is . . . in residence." She gulped and looked behind her, afraid she'd see those condemning silver eyes. "I cannot stay here. I hoped that you would help me leave."

"We can be in Gretna Green in a matter of days. Is that what you desire?
Marriage?"
Ralph's eyes sparkled, and she knew without a doubt that he loved her very much.

"I think . . ." Brienne murmured, looking away from his soul-baring gaze. She couldn't bear to hurt him, but somehow, she knew she must. She carried another man's child, and suddenly she realized that marriage to Ralph Harcourt was too dishonorable to think of. He was a good man, and she couldn't use him to extract herself from Avenel's grasp. If she did, she would be no better than the ones who had used her.

Her eyes wandered over the hall while she tried to think of a gentle way to let Ralph know how she felt. Seeing the empty staircase and the tall clock that ticked away her few precious moments, she felt no answers coming to her, only a tearing bout of indecision.

Her hand flew to her mouth. Her heart thumped in her chest, and her knees weakened beneath her. In the study to the left, she spied Avenel sitting quietly in a wing chair, staring not at her but at Ralph Harcourt. One shuddering look into those stormy eyes told her everything she needed to know. Avenel had overheard their entire conversation.

"What's this?" Ralph's eyes trailed in the direction of her shocked ones. He frowned when he saw the large, dark man watching them from the study.

"The carriage is ready, Brienne." Avenel rose, nodded to the footman, and stepped into the hall.

"I am not going with you to Osterley." Brienne fairly shook in her boots, seeing the beginnings of a situation she had wanted to avoid.

"No?" Avenel's smile was nasty. "I'm afraid you must not have heard me. I said the carriage is ready to take us home. Now, let us go. We cannot keep Cumberland waiting." He grabbed her elbow. "If you will excuse us," Avenel said to Ralph unpleasantly.

"I say I will not!" Ralph stepped up, showing what Brienne believed to be extraordinary courage. "The girl you are ordering about is going to be my wife. She is not traveling anywhere with you."

Suddenly Avenel stopped and stood deadly still. "I see.
Your wife."
He gripped Brienne's arm almost painfully.
"Brienne?
Is this true?"

"I don't want to go with you, Avenel.
No matter what happens."
She bit her lip to keep it from quivering.

"Well, let me tell you what will happen if you choose to dupe this gentleman into marrying you," Avenel growled. "I will never give you a moment's peace for the rest of your life. There will be no place on this earth where you could go to be free of me. And even if you insist upon ruining your own life in this fashion, be wary of ruining his, too." Avenel nodded at Ralph.

"Here now, unhand her!" Ralph commanded, stepping forward.

"Brienne, don't you have a little news for your fiancé?" Avenel tormented her.

"No, don't make me say it." Brienne closed her eyes, knowing how much her answer would hurt Ralph. She was being left with no choice, but Ralph wouldn't understand this. He didn't know of her child.

"Unhand her, I say. She's coming with me!" Ralph spoke with unruffled confidence.

" 'Princess'
?" Avenel goaded Brienne, his eyes burning with vengeance.

"Ralph, you must understand—" Brienne started but he interrupted her.

"It doesn't matter, love. I need no explanation. I told you that before." Ralph's voice was calm and reassuring. It was as if he already knew her troubles and had forgiven her. How she ached to go with him! But deep down Brienne knew her destiny lay with Avenel. Her entanglement with the master of Osterley was too complex to unweave with one simple exit.

"Ralph, I'm sorry.
Terribly sorry."
Her voice broke, and she felt shame enough for them all. "I don't know how to explain this. . . . You see, I've a
past. . . .
I'm tied to this man because of it. There's no other way but for me to go with him. Oh,
Ralph . . ."
She couldn't go on.

"I see." Ralph's beautiful brown eyes filled with pain.

"Ralph, you must understand. I didn't want it to be like this!" Brienne tried to pull free and console Ralph, but she knew from past pain and pleasure that Avenel's arms were as strong as steel.

"Get to the carriage, Brienne," Avenel ordered.

"No! I must explain!" Again she turned to Ralph. She would beg him to understand if she had to!
Anything to get that look out of his eyes.

But she was never given the chance. Suddenly furious, Avenel grabbed her by the waist. Sweeping her legs into his arms, he had her out the front door before she could utter another word. Demanding to be let go, her cries fell on deaf ears, and he mercilessly dumped her into the waiting vehicle.

"I won't leave like this, I tell you! I won't leave like this!" Brienne cried, unable to bear the sight of Ralph's golden head hung in defeat.

"I think he understands, my dear." Avenel smiled, but his eyes looked hard. "We are leaving." He sat next to Cumberland and swiftly shut the door behind them.

The finality of the situation weighing upon her like a board and stones, Brienne jumped up and attempted to leave the carriage. She would spare Ralph's feelings even if it meant exposing her illegitimate pregnancy for
all the
world to see. But Avenel held her fast.

"Please let me tell him, Avenel! Don't let me leave him like this! He was kind to me!" She finally found herself pleading with him.

"And why not leave him like this?" Avenel answered maliciously. "After all, you don't love him. If memory serves, I recall that you love me."

Avenel sat back while she absorbed this blow. But it wasn't long before she had her retort.

"
Yes,
and my soul will burn in hell for allowing my love to be so misspent!" She leaned forward and slapped him viciously across the face. Yet he never flinched, nor did he seek retribution. Rather, he spent the rest of the trip in cruel silence, purposefully ignoring the glare in the violet eyes next to him.