A Lady at Last (36 page)

“Do you regret the wardrobe, the reading lessons, the waltz?”

“Of course not! You don't understand.” She touched his face. “I am not going home as La Sauvage, I am going home as Miss Carre. I do miss the wind in my hair, but it isn't society I must escape. I have to go home because I can't be your ward anymore.”

She had just stabbed him in the heart. He dropped her hands. “I thought I understood. You wish to run from
me?
”

“I can only tell you again, I must make my own way now, without a husband, without a guardian—without you. But we will always be friends, won't we?”

He turned away. Was she rejecting him? He tried to think, but his heart was screaming at him. Nothing made sense anymore. This couldn't be happening. He could not be losing the only woman he had ever loved. If she had been running from society, he would have let her go and followed and waited for her. But if she was running from him, he could not let her go.

He slowly faced her.

“I have hurt you!” she cried. She clasped her hands to her face, which was starkly pale, in spite of two bright spots of crimson. “Cliff, you have been the best champion a woman could ever have! In my heart, you will always be my champion. And one day, when I am wealthy and respected, I will call on you at Windsong and we will reminisce over these times!”

“Like hell,” he said.

“And I am going to pay you back for every cent you have spent on me. Finally, I am making
you
a promise!”

“I don't want to be repaid, not one cent,” he cried. “This is about what happened at Ashford Hall!” he accused, pointing at her. His hand was shaking.

She backed up, gasping, and he knew he was right. “I don't know what you mean!”

He stalked her, recalling her attempt at seduction and his brutal rejection of her. How he wished he had taken her then, entirely. “I rejected you.”

She flushed. “You are a man of honor. You were right—my advances were wrong!”

“And this is why you run.” Triumph began, but it was predatory and savage.

She shook her head. “No!”

He trapped her against the wall. “You said you made these plans while I was in Holland. I went to Holland because my desire for you was beyond all control. I went abroad so I would not take what you were offering. And while I was gone, you decided to leave…me.”

She inhaled. “Yes.”

Relief began and his emotions, just slightly, eased. The rest of his body, already battle ready and fiercely aroused, escalated its tension. His loins engorged fully. “Now you are being honest with me,” he whispered, sliding his hand to her cheek.

She gasped, comprehension filling her eyes, but she cried, “What are you doing?”

He had wanted her insanely that night, and even months ago, on his ship, when she was untutored and naive. His heart thundered. He leaned closer. “You know what I am doing.”

For one moment, Amanda stared, realizing he was going to give in to his desires, at last. “Cliff,” she breathed, reaching for his shoulders.

He pulled her into his arms, against his massive chest, his mouth covering hers.

He had intended a savage, possessive, demanding kiss. But the moment he felt her lips, he softened, the anger, the fear, the savagery vanishing. This woman he loved. And he needed her now and forever.

He touched her mouth softly with his lips, again and again, coaxing them to open wide and wider still. She gasped and he entered her, thrilling, and she began kissing him back, their passion slowly and surely increasing.

Cliff thrust his tongue deep, pressed her more firmly against the wall, and shifted his loins against her hip, already wanting to explode in his release. Amanda wept, clinging to his arms.

He pulled away, gripping her hand. “Come with me,” he said flatly, and before she could speak they were crossing the room.

The hall was empty. He glanced into the dining room, but Tyrell was hidden by his newspaper. He gave Amanda a look, one which spoke of all of his intentions, and he saw her nod, her eyes huge. They ran up the stairs.

The moment they were in her bedroom he released her, slamming the door and locking it. He threw off his jacket, meeting her gaze. She stood near the bed, as still as a doe paralyzed by an oncoming light. But she was breathing hard, almost as hard as he.

He approached, taking her in his arms. “I want to make you happy, Amanda,” he said thickly. He stroked her cheek. He wasn't sure how much control he could exercise now.

She nodded. “Cliff…hurry.”

He hadn't been sure she wouldn't think to refuse him in the end. He cried out, carrying her to the bed while she flung her arms around him, kissing his neck, his jaw, his cheek. He laughed exultantly, because nothing was more important than taking this woman—his woman—now, and giving her more pleasure than any one woman had a right to.

He laid her down, tearing at the buttons on the back of her dress. They popped and scattered across the rug.

She smiled breathlessly and tore his shirt open, too, more buttons spewing. Then she inhaled, laying her palms on his chest. Her hands were shaking wildly.

He thrilled at her admiration, and flung his shirt aside. She gasped, ogling his chest and arms and he laughed, somehow shrugging her gown off. All laughter died. Sexual tension thrummed in the room. They fell to the bed in a swirl of pillows, sheets, petticoats.

He took her mouth again while fumbling with her chemise and corset, trying not to grind himself between her thighs. He was going to embarrass himself, he realized, as he had no self-control left.

She seized his belt and opened it, and their eyes met while she fumbled with his breeches. Every caress caused his loins to grow. He had to smile. “Darling, I am trying to be a gentleman—”

“Do not bother!” She gasped, setting him free.

He went still, poised above her, as she fumbled with his manhood, stroking it. He gave up, arching into her hand, crying out, shaking but somehow controlling himself.

He flung his arms around her, spread her legs and slid up against slick, wet heat. Amanda writhed against him. “Cliff, I cannot wait,” she gasped, nipping his jaw urgently.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he managed, pressing into her. “I want to pleasure you.”

“Oh!” Her eyes grew wide and startled.

But he was still, as stunned as she was by the intense beginning of their union, her flesh seizing his. “Hold on, darling, my love,” he whispered, and slowly, inch by inch, he made his way home.

She shuddered wildly, clinging, and finally he drove past her innocence, unable to repress a cry of savage joy. She gasped once as he did so and then began to weep in pleasure, not pain. He felt her spasms beginning and he exulted again, moving hard and swift, intently, seeking his own climax. And when she wept, sobbing his name, he gave over to her, in the most savage explosion of pleasure he had ever experienced.

When her pleasure finally faded, Amanda simply held on to Cliff. Her love knew no bounds. She dared not think past the emotions filling her heart, her soul, her entire existence. She ran her hand down his hard, muscular back, awed by the power beneath her palm. She felt him stirring inside of her and she smiled.

He raised his head and smiled back at her, the most heart-wrenching smile she had ever received. “I hope you are well pleased?”

She kissed him, closing her eyes, intending a peck, but it took on a life of its own. When they were both breathless and fully aroused, she managed to open her eyes. “I am very well pleased,” she said coyly, wriggling just a bit.

His huge manhood throbbed restlessly inside of her. “That, my darling, was but a brief appetizer,” he said, eyes glittering, dimples deep. “There are several courses to come before the main one.”

“Really?” she gasped, tears forming, for he was slowly withdrawing his huge length, and as slowly, penetrating again. Her mind began to blacken; he left her, causing real dismay.

“Darling, the first course,” he said, bending over her distended lips. He flicked his tongue between them and over her own small turgid flesh, laving her there. Amanda instantly wept his name, exploding fiercely.

When she returned to some small degree of sanity, he was moving inside her, watching her closely, his face strained with lust.

She touched his cheek, her arousal spiking. “I want another course,” she managed, incapable of even the smallest smile.

His eyes widened. “Yes,” he said, shifting away.

She seized his wrist, managing to give him a very significant look. “Oh, no, a different meal—a very large one.”

He went still.

Her heart threatening to make her faint, Amanda pushed him onto his back. He went willingly. His erection stood up, hard and straight. She bent over him and tasted heaven.

He cried out.

 

A
MANDA SAT
at her secretary, clad in a nightgown, a small candle giving some light, studying the letter she had written. In her bed, Cliff lay sprawled out, asleep. It was well past dusk. They had made love all day.

She had seen his signed name many times, and now she carefully forged his signature and folded up the instructions she had written, brushing a tear from the parchment. She placed it in an envelope and sealed it. Her heart shattered for the hundredth time since she had left him in her bed alone.

He had taken her by surprise that morning. If she'd had a chance to think about what their passion would really mean, she might have rejected his advances, because being in his arms meant everything to her. A wiser woman would have avoided this, not because she loved him so deeply, but because he didn't love her back.

Amanda felt very certain that when he awoke and came to his senses, he was going to insist they marry, out of his sense of honor and duty.

Nothing had changed. She was foolishly and hopelessly in love with a man who did not love her in return. She wondered how it would feel to be his wife and learn of an extramarital affair. Or worse, to see him with another woman one day. It was time to become an independent woman.

The temptation to remain with him, just for a while, was huge. Being his mistress even temporarily would be so glorious—but he was going to insist on marriage now and she could not accept his terms. Knowing it would eventually end would be a dark cloud spoiling every shared moment. Besides, Amanda wasn't sure she would ever be able to go her separate way if she continued on as his lover for very long.

She got up, the floor creaking. She winced but went to the armoire, the letter in her hand, and slipped on a wrapper. She had just opened the door, as quietly as possible, when he said, “What are you doing?”

She turned, forcing a smile. The moment she faced him she was utterly distracted, as he sat in her bed, starkly nude and in his state of impossible glory. For one moment, she forgot what she was about, but then she recalled the letter hidden by the skirt of her wrapper. “I thought to find a maid and ask for some wine and maybe something to eat.”

But what she really planned to do was have her message sent to the docks. If MacIver believed the instructions he was about to receive, he would be taking her home tomorrow, on the very next tide. As Amanda had seen Cliff writing instructions to his various crews, she felt confident that MacIver would never think twice about following his new orders.

Her heart cracked irreparably apart. Tomorrow night she would be at sea. She must not think about how hurt and angry Cliff would be. Sooner or later he would find another lover to comfort him, she thought. The idea made her feel bitter; she was instantly ashamed of herself.

Cliff yawned and stretched, making her heart turn over, causing her body to heat. A gleam came to his eyes. “A very fine idea. Ask for champagne—and then come back to bed.” He sent her a soft but seductive smile that caused moisture to explode between her thighs.

I will never stop loving him
, she thought.

So much sorrow came. She was certain that he would soon lose any affection that he had for her and eventually, he would forget her entirely. But she smiled at him and slipped from the room. “I'll be right back,” she said.

“Hurry,” he murmured.

And as she found a housemaid, all she could think of was how angry he would be when he learned of her betrayal.

A
MANDA SAT IN THE
hired hansom outside of Belford House, her smaller bags at her feet. It was hard to think, much less alight from the coach. She had decided to have one last word with her mother before leaving London. She hadn't said goodbye to Cliff and raw grief consumed her. Of course she couldn't face him this way—it would be too difficult after the night they had just shared. She was aware of being a coward now.

She closed her eyes tightly against the burn of tears, crying for them both. He had left her that morning in an exceptionally cheerful mood, telling her he'd see her before supper, having no idea that by evening, she'd be far out to sea. He'd gone out almost directly, his step a swagger. Amanda had watched him leave from her bedroom window, her heart beating in frantic protest, loving him anew, wanting to call him back. She'd had to remind herself again and again that eventually, sooner, rather than later, their paths would cross on the island. But what difference did that make? She was not going to become his lover, even if he still wished it, as that would solve nothing, just as she wouldn't marry him out of his sense of obligation toward her. She sighed, wiped her eyes, and slipped to the street.

The driver spat chewing tobacco onto the ground.

Amanda went up the walk and rang the bell, seeking some composure. A moment later she was standing in the foyer, trying to prepare herself for a final moment with her mother. It was so odd to think the word
mother,
and to have no real feelings of affection for Dulcea. But one fact remained: Dulcea was her mother by birth and she had two children who were Amanda's half siblings. She was compelled to see her one last time before leaving London forever.

Dulcea hurried into the hall, her eyes wide, smiling. “Amanda! You have changed your mind. I am so pleased you have come.” She stopped, evincing surprise. “I do not see your bags. Haven't you come to stay here with me?”

“I have come to say goodbye. I told you, I am going home.” And Amanda finally realized that a part of her was hoping for some small sign of affection from this woman, in spite of their previous encounter.

Dulcea paled. “How can you do this? You will give up your new life here, in town, to live on an island infested with pirates, to live among them?”

“I believe I told you, I will open up a shop. I intend to remain a gentlewoman. Eventually I will have a shipping concern.”

“You are mad, and you are an ungrateful girl!” Dulcea trembled, her eyes blazing. “I have offered you a home, a real home, and you merely walk away to find adventure? You are exactly like your father.”

Amanda stiffened. “You have offered me nothing, Lady Belford. All I ever wanted was some genuine affection from you. All I have seen in your eyes is calculation and greed. I came here hoping that the other night at the ball was not the truth. But it was, wasn't it?”

Dulcea was still, myriad emotions crossing her face. Then she spoke more calmly. “I am angry because you are hurting your prospects. If you see calculation, it is because I want what is best for you! You are—” She stopped, lowering her voice. “You are my daughter, no matter the past. I want a bright future for you.”

Amanda did not believe her. “Why do you care so little for me? Is it a defect of character on your part? Or am I at fault?”

Dulcea drew up. “Of course I care for you. I told you so at the ball.”

Amanda shook her head. “You do not care for me, you care for whatever wealth I can bring to your home. I am a
lady
now, but somehow, still, I am not good enough to receive your affections. Is it because I am a bastard? So I will pay for your sins? Or is it because you see a pirate's whelp standing here now? I have done all that I could to change myself, but it isn't enough, is it?”

“It is not enough,” Dulcea agreed eagerly, “but I could help you become a great and genuine lady. I still plan to see you wed to de Warenne. Amanda, you will become a reigning socialite.”

Amanda felt only disgust. “And you will rule the ton with me, while we both live fabulously off Cliff's wealth.”

“Why not?” Dulcea said happily.

And finally, she felt the loss of the dream of her mother which her father had instilled in her. Coupled with her grief over losing Cliff, it felt unbearable. Her hands shaking, Amanda took off the pearl earrings Cliff had given her, handing them to Dulcea. She would never part with his first gift, the necklace. “Here. Sell them. Maybe it will help. As soon as I make my first profits, I will send you something, as much as I can, and hopefully it will be enough to tide you and your children over.” She could barely believe what she was offering, but she meant it. Dulcea Belford did not care for her, but she was her mother and she was in distress, and her two children were her half brother and half sister.

“How can you do this? I am offering you everything, Amanda!”

She was offering nothing at all. “Goodbye…Mother.” Amanda walked out.

 

H
E HAD BEEN SMILING
from the moment he had left Amanda in her bed. As it was later in the afternoon, his face was actually beginning to ache. But now, truly, he understood what love was. It was a great swelling of joy and happiness. He could hardly believe he had once thought himself immune to the emotion and had actually referred to it as an affliction.

He entered Harmon House, his gaze veering toward the stairs. The engagement ring he had just purchased was burning a hole in his breast pocket. He had rehearsed a dozen different proposals, and all had seemed deficient and inane. He somehow wanted to convey the depth of his feelings, if he hadn't done so yesterday and last night.

He still wanted her terribly. Last night he had made love to her a hundred different ways, and he simply could not wait to do so again. He dearly hoped she understood what he was expressing when he kissed her and touched her and held her. He felt certain the three words every woman longed to hear might be difficult to enunciate. But after last night, she had to know how deeply in love he was.

About to rush up the stairs, he hesitated. His father had just stepped into the front hall, his expression controlled and difficult to read.

He tensed, feeling fourteen, not twenty-eight, and turned, removing his hand from the banister. “Before you set me down, you should know my intentions are honorable.” He reached into his pocket and removed the sapphire-blue velvet box and opened it. The eight carat diamond sparked, catching the light.

The earl smiled. “Cliff, I had no doubt that you were intending marriage. You made yourself clear the day I arrived here. I believe your exact words were that the day you ruined her, you would marry her.”

“I was hardly planning the event when we spoke of it.”

The earl raised a brow, as if he did not believe him, then said, “The ring is exquisite and it suits her. Congratulations.” He clasped his shoulder. “I am thrilled for you both.

Cliff finally relaxed. “You will not berate me for my impatient behavior?”

“No, I will not,” the earl laughed. “We are virile men, and when smitten, there is no stopping us.” Briefly, a faraway look came into his eyes, and Cliff knew he was thinking of his wife.

Then he came back to the present. “May I say one more thing?”

Cliff had been glancing up the stairs, his impatience now full-blown. He turned back to the earl. “Of course.”

“I am very proud of you. If I have been harder on you, and less tolerant of your behavior, it was not because I loved you any less than Tyrell or Rex. Nor was it due to your reckless nature and the many sleepless nights you caused me and my wife. Cliff, no one was more acutely aware of the fact that you are my youngest son than I.”

Cliff no longer thought of Amanda. He stared, uncertain as to where his father was going with his monologue. Growing up, he
had
been treated differently than his brothers. However, he had been impossibly wild, which had given the earl cause to be harsher with him. “I don't quite understand.”

“I have been harder on you because, as my youngest son, you have needed more character, more strength and more ambition to survive well in this world. Considering the man that stands before me today, I think my stratagem in raising you was correct.”

Cliff flushed with pleasure, as the earl's praise was rare. “I know there were many times when you wanted to whip me, but you never did. I am a father now, and Alexi is also a handful. I understand why you had to be tougher with me than my brothers.”

“You have made a kingdom from the sand and the sea, an achievement only your stepbrother Devlin can claim, and clearly, your sense of duty and honor is as strong as your brothers. Not only is it apparent in your care of your children, you rescued a damsel in distress and became her champion. I am very pleased with the man you have become.”

Cliff smiled. “Thank you, Edward.”

Edward smiled back. “Your damsel awaits.”

Cliff grinned, his heart racing. “Indeed, she does. There is something I must do, and hopefully, not make a fool of myself in the process.”

“She will never see you as a fool, son. Her eyes shine when she looks at you.”

Cliff turned toward the stairs when a servant approached. “Captain, sir?” He was carrying an envelope.

Cliff was impatient. “In a moment—”

“Sir, Miss Carre explicitly stated I was to deliver this to you at four in the afternoon. It is four, sir.”

Cliff about-faced with genuine surprise and an inkling of dismay. What was this? “Where is Miss Carre?” he asked, taking the envelope and noting that it was formally addressed to him in her scripted hand. Dread began.

“She went out shortly after noon,” the servant said.

Cliff tore open the envelope and unfolded a letter.

Cliff stared at the page, absolutely incapable of comprehending what was written there.

“Cliff? What is it?” the earl demanded.

He slowly reread every word. When he was done, one refrain echoed in his mind.
She had left him
. He looked up.

Edward had seized his shoulder. “Is it Amanda?”

She had left him
. She had left him after he had made love to her all day and night, expressing with his body what he could not express with words. He was finally, deeply, eternally in love, and the woman he desired had rejected him.

She was writing about friendship and affection.

He carried an engagement ring in his coat pocket.

“Cliff? May I?”

Cliff shoved the letter at his father, reeling. How was this happening?

She wished to be
friends?

He began to shake. This was the woman he loved. This woman was going to be his wife. And she was sailing without him across the Atlantic Ocean?

Images assailed him, bloody and murderous, of pirates and rogues attacking innocent merchant ships. He strode for the door. He could not assimilate what she was thinking or what she wanted, and just then, he didn't care. What he did understand was that he, and he alone, would transport her to the West Indies. To do otherwise was to risk her life.

Didn't she love him?

“Cliff,” the earl tried. “Do not take this literally.”

Cliff didn't hear him. It was finally beginning to sink in. “Get me a coach, a hansom, a horse, instantly,” he snarled at the doorman.

On the front steps, he paced back and forth, now incredulous. Women fell all over themselves for his favors, but she had left him.

How could Amanda do this?

So much hurt stabbed through him that he halted in his tracks, incapable of another step. He had suffered sword wounds, pistol shots and knife wounds, but he had never felt this kind of hurt. It wasn't physical, it was a thousand times worse.

Hadn't she been in love with him a few weeks ago, before he left for Holland?

And finally, the anger began. Cliff cursed.
Friendship?
Was she insane? He did not want friendship, he wanted a wife…he wanted her love.

“Sir.” A groom came running up the drive, leading a horse.

He grabbed the reins and swung into the saddle. He would stop her, if she hadn't set sail yet. As he galloped into the street, almost causing two carriages to collide, he began to realize it was unlikely that she had left. He was at the wharves and shipping offices every day, attending to his own business affairs, and he was fairly certain that not a single ship was scheduled to depart that day for the islands, although two ships had left yesterday. He spurred the gelding on. Coachmen cursed at him as they were forced to the curb.