The Black Rose Page 20

  "My — father — told you this?" Tess asked numbly, beginning finally to understand.

  About herself. About the hard-faced man beside her, as cold and relentless as the devil himself.

  "He told me, all right. Everything about his two charming children. And what he neglected to say, I soon saw with my own eyes. Do you moan for your Fox as you moaned for Chevington?" Ravenhurst demanded savagely. "Do you rake him with your nails when he plunges inside you?"

  "Why do you ask? Since you claim to know everything, you must know that, too, surely. And since you know the terrible truth, you can have no more reason to stay here and plague me with these pointless questions." Her voice, Tess was glad to hear, did not waver. If only she could still her ragged pulse so well ...

  "Only one reason, my dear. The Fox's name, along with the names of all his men."

  "I'll tell you nothing, do you hear? Not now or ever, no matter what you do to me. So release me! Or by all the saints I'll claw your eyes out the first chance I get!"

  Ravenhurst's laugh as he bent over her was cold and very cruel. "Do you really think you'll want to claw my eyes out? I'm willing to wager you feel quite differently. Yes, you'll be begging me to stay before I'm done with you." As if to underscore his promise, he pressed his lips to the tender skin behind her ear, nipping and then stroking with his tongue. A moment later his teeth caught her ear and performed the same searing torment upon its lobe.

  The next instant his fingers circled one furled nipple and closed to explore its pouting tip.

  Flames burst through Tess's body. She gasped, hating him and at the same time fearing his ruthless touch. But already somewhere deep in the back of her mind she was praying he would not stop.

  Heaven help her, it must never be! Choking down a sob, Tess tossed her head from side to side in a vain effort to dislodge his tormenting lips.

  "Yes," Dane whispered hoarsely against her neck. "I feel the wild heat of your pulse. Already your straining body tells me everything your lying lips seek to deny. You want me, Tess. And you'll want me a great deal more before I'm finished with you!"

  Tess shuddered, awash in a firestorm of sensation, racked by anger, fear, and a strange desperation.

  What had he done to her? Why was her resolve melting?

  How could I ever have loved him? she asked herself, over and over. This man is my enemy, and I must fight him. He is a cold-blooded stranger.

  Dane's lips drank in her every desperate movement. His teeth nipped commandingly; his tongue bathed her in dark fire.

  Around them the fog rose and fell in silent, ghostly waves.

  Before I'm done with you.

  It was then that Ravenhurst's bitter promise penetrated the chaos of Tess's thoughts. Sweet heaven, what did he mean?

  As if in answer, his long fingers anchored her twisting wrists. "Fight me, little hellcat," he urged hoarsely. "Battle me with tooth and claw. I would have it no other way, for your fury only fuels my desire. But know that before the sun rises you'll be purring beneath me, begging for more. And offering me anything I choose to take. Every secret of your silken body." Like molten flame his tongue dipped into the sensitive recesses of her ear, proving the truth of his words. "Every name of your traitorous brethren."

  "N-never!"

  "Open for me," he murmured hoarsely, turning to sweep the soft swell of her lips with his tongue. "Let me taste you now. Give me your dark honey."

  A moan that was part sob escaped from deep in Tess's throat, and Ravenhurst found his entrance at that moment, shocking her with the relentless sweep of his velvet tongue.

  "By God, you're sweet," he whispered against her opened mouth. "More," he demanded.

  "Don't d-do this, Dane!" Dimly Tess realized her hands were on his tensed shoulders, digging, kneading.

  Whether to drag him closer or force him away, she refused to think.

  "The more you give, the more I'll take. Your mouth is like brandy, a fever in my blood. And before the night is out, you'll know that fever too, I promise you."

  "Dane —" Her voice was raw, pleading.

  "Dear God, how I've waited to hear you moan like this, to hear my name tremble on your lips." He growled, long and low, sealing off further protests with his lips. Sleek and hot, his tongue played over hers until Tess began to understand that she might never be free of this man.

  No matter how she struggled with him. Even more fiercely with herself.

  But she was losing, and they both knew it.

  With ruthless precision Ravenhurst shifted, pursuing his advantage. A moment later his teeth found the hard furled bud beneath her cambric gown.

  Madness! Tess screamed silently, mind and body aflame. At the same moment she prayed this sweet fire would never end.

  Madness! Dane thought, remembering another woman, another night of pure enchantment. A night he had never been able to forget.

  His breath caught as the woman beside him moaned in pleasure. And suddenly the fabric between them was an intolerable barrier.

  With a dark groan he gripped the neck of her gown and in one fierce blow tore the thin cambric away, exposing her silver body to his hungry gaze. "Sweet Jesus, you're beautiful," he muttered hoarsely, his face set in harsh lines. "More beautiful even than I remembered. Purr for me, brandy cat," he whispered against her taut skin a moment before he drew her nipple into his mouth.

  "Never," Tess moaned, but even as she spoke she felt her quivering nerves explode under the dark flame of his touch. "Stop!" she gasped, crying out at this new assault. But he did not stop, and she knew she would have to plead for her release.

  And it must be soon, before she had no words left.

  "Please, Dane, I beg you — this is wrong. All w-wrong!"

  But the man with the midnight eyes did not hear. Inch by inch he staked his claim. Nerve by flaring nerve he bent her to his will, until only the shredded remnants of Tess's pride kept her from moaning in wild pleasure.

  Before I'm done with you.

  Once more his angry threat came back to haunt her.

  She was no more than another military objective to this hardened officer, Tess realized dimly. No more than the conquest of a hostile terrain. No, she must never falter, nor surrender an inch.

  If she showed any sign of weakness he would be quick to use it against her.

  "You're mad!" she cried, writhing against his hungry mouth.

  "Quite likely. But I'll have this — and much, much more." Suddenly Ravenhurst froze, his breathing harsh and strained in the silence around them.

  What was he doing? Was she once again to play him for a fool?

  With narrowed eyes he studied her, willing his heated, hungry body to order, banking the fire in his veins with the sullen ice of contempt.

  For what both of them had become in the long years since that enchanted night they met.

  Yes, tonight he would teach her that two could play the game of desire and deceit. That two could use their bodies for a darker purpose. It was a lesson she had learned long ago, it appeared, from her gamester father.

  "Yes, a king's ransom and more, a man would give," Dane whispered, his fingers dropping where his eyes had feasted, teasing the cool satin of her skin while he struggled to calm his feverish thoughts. "Until he'd throw everything away just to have you one more time."

  His harsh words swirled in Tess's fevered brain, sound without meaning. He was so much like the man she'd adored, his face with the same outline, his body so fierce and familiar.

  How could she find the strength to resist what she had once loved so well?

  What could have happened to make him this way? she wondered, before bitter reason returned. Perdition, why did she even care, when all that mattered was that she escape?

  Now, before her traitorous body could betray her further!

  Fight him, Tess told herself wildly, clawing her way up out of the molten sea of pleasure he'd forged around them. This cold predator had nothing in common with the gallant lieutenant who had w
ooed her and won her five years before.

  That man, Tess realized suddenly, was dead. As dead as the love she'd once felt for him.

  Now this torment of the senses was all that was left, this sullen storm, this brutal mockery of love.

  "Let me go, you black-hearted bastard! Just because you're dead doesn't mean —"

  "Dead?" Ravenhurst's laugh was sharp with bitterness, at himself as much as at her. Had Tess not been so frantic, she might have heard the raw pain at its depths. "I think I have been, in truth, until this very moment. Until I came to see you for what you really are." His hand found her buttock and forced her against his taut thighs, against his angry, throbbing man's heat. "Now I'm as far from dead as a man can be, I assure you."

  "You are the devil himself. You fly out of the night like a bat from hell!" she raged, her hands yanking in vain against his iron grip.

  Suddenly she felt him shift, felt him turn and press her down along the top of the wall until his straining muscles ground against her and the ridge of stones bit into her back.

  "I'll make you rue this night, damn your soul!" Arching wildly, she fought to dislodge his heavy, tensed body. But the movement only served to draw her skirts up her calves.

  Suddenly an iron thigh scissored between her kicking legs. "Keep rubbing against me like a she-cat and I'll not take the time I meant with you," Ravenhurst said hoarsely. "I'll take you hard and fast, by God. Right here on this wall!"

  With a ragged gasp, Tess strained away from the hard blade of muscle which scorched her thigh, fighting the mad fury of his lust.

  Dead, she told herself wildly. The man she had loved — the only man she could ever love. Gone forever. This brute was no more than a twisted wreck, a grim shadow of that other person, after all his joy and honor had been stripped away.

  "Devil!" she screamed wildly, twisting closer to his iron hands. With a sob she brought her head down and sank her teeth into his wrist.

  Ravenhurst's oath was short and exceedingly crude. In the same instant he jerked her hands over her head, pinioning her completely beneath his taut, angry body so that her straining only brought more torture.

  For them both, although Tess could not see that.

  "What — what evil thing are you planning?"

  His eyes mocked her, darker than midnight, dark as Hell itself. Eyes which had seen every dream shattered, every hope destroyed.

  And that was exactly what Dane meant to do to her now.

  "Pleasure, my dear. A sort I'll warrant your swaggering smuggler never took the time to show you. A pleasure so keen you'll be happy to give me the answers to a few questions."

  Chilled by his grim threat, Tess made one last wild attempt at freedom. Desperation made her strong, and she caught Ravenhurst unaware, wresting one hand loose and driving savagely at the point on his right wrist where the crisscrossed trail of scars was thickest.

  Her stiffened fingers found their mark; she felt him flinch, then jerk back in pain.

  Wildly she wrenched against his other hand, but even thus, he was more than her equal. The night trembled around them, tense and suffocating, every noise stilled except for their choked breathing, the furious hiss and rustle of their struggle.

  Then Tess felt herself spin away through space, free for one delirious moment before she landed sprawling in the damp soil of the garden below, one arm on a large stone broken from the wall.

  As she had known it would.

  When Ravenhurst came over the wall an instant later, Tess was ready.

  With a ragged sob she hurled the limestone slab toward his head, making a ghostly slash upon the darkness, felling him instantly.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Stumbling, blind with fury, Tess made her way back to the Angel. Hobhouse met her at the inn's steps, his eyes keen and probing.

  "What —"

  Tess raised a pale, trembling hand. "Not now, Hobhouse, please. P-perhaps later." White-faced, she moved past him and crossed the spotless lobby.

  At the staircase she turned, her fingers tense on the polished banister. "You will please fetch me the moment Lord Ravenhurst returns," she ordered grimly.

  * * * * *

  Groaning, Lord Ravenhurst stirred slightly, feeling fragments of pain shoot through his left temple. He shifted to one side, then opened his eyes to dense, blanketing whiteness. His cheek, he discovered, was pressed against the cold earth, and someone was pounding a drum — a very large drum — inside his head.

  "What in the ..."

  He sat up, breaking through the low-lying mist into a gray, chill predawn world. Immediately he brought his hand to his temple, raw and throbbing where the heavy stone had caught him.

  Cursing, he traced the ragged wound, thick with blood.

  The memory of Tess's betrayal flooded over him, and he cursed again, more graphically this time. Once more the Jezebel had eluded him!

  He winced, brushing a thick line of blood from his eye.

  She would pay dearly for this night's work, Ravenhurst vowed, stumbling to his feet. The thought of precisely how he would make her pay sustained him all the way through the long march back to town.

  * * * * *

  Two hours later, dusty and grim-faced, Ravenhurst reached the Angel. Hobhouse stood on the steps, a stern sentinel.

  No greeting was offered by either man. Sharp-eyed and silent, they studied one another.

  Tess waited inside, halfway up the staircase. Wadded beneath her arm was a heavy bundle of clothes.

  "There is no need to escort Lord Ravenhurst to his room, Hobhouse," she said coldly. "There is no need, in fact, to perform the slightest service for this man."

  Her fingers tightened and she cast a pair of boots down onto the floor. They struck the polished marble with the explosive report of pistols.

  "You see, Hobhouse —"

  A pile of books hit Ravenhurst in the chest.

  "— the viscount —"

  A tangled mass of shirts struck his harsh face.

  "— is just —"

  A leather satchel landed somewhere near his knees.

  "— leaving!"

  One by one, Dane's possessions hit the floor while he stood watching, stiff-legged and furious. Peale looked on anxiously, several feet above Tess on the stairs. "I tried to stop her, your —"

  "Now!" Tess ordered.

  "By God, I'll —" Dane's threat was never completed.

  Grim-faced, Hobhouse moved to block the viscount's progress. "I'll be more than happy to show the gentle — nobleman — out, miss." The majordomo's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't care for any trouble, your lordship. But I'm not saying I wouldn't relish going a round or two with you right now."

  For long, taut minutes the four stood unmoving in the lobby.

  Then Dane's eyes hardened, focused entirely upon Tess's white face. "Enjoy your triumph while you may. It will not last long, I warn you."

  And then he was gone, an anxious-looking Peale following silently in his wake.

  * * * * *

  The day passed in a gray, suffocating blur. Tess gave directions to Edouard and Letty, oversaw the replacement of the Angel's linens, and considered the next week's menus. She checked the placement of the old brandy in the inn's wine cellar. She dutifully tallied her account books.

  And all the time she was a thousand miles away.

  Dreaming of a time when she had been young and innocent.

  When the world had seemed fine and fresh, instead of the ashen hell it had now become.

  "Come quick, miss. Something's happened to Thomas out at Fairleigh." His clothing all awry, Jem scuttled through the kitchen in search of Tess.

  "Calm yourself, Jem. I'm right here." Tess emerged frowning from the stillroom, brushing her hands on her apron. "What has happened to Thomas?"

  "It was that south wall up at the priory. Collapsed on him, it did. One of the village boys happened to be cutting through and saw him. The boy's out in the stable now. Shall I hitch up your curricle?"

  Tess w
as already running up to her room to change. "No, saddle the roan. He'll be faster. Letty and Hobhouse can follow in the curricle."

  When Tess flew downstairs five minutes later, she carried a bundle of clean linens, ointments, and a small bottle of laudanum. Hobhouse had already sent a note around to the surgeon, asking him to pay a call to Fairleigh. But since that overworked individual might likely be hours in the process, Tess knew she must do all she could for Thomas first.

  There would be no sleep for her this day, she realized, fighting to focus on the road before her. She gave the roan his head then, and let him eat up the distance. Soon they rounded Gibbett's Corner and thundered past the old windmill.

  Tess blinked, seeing something in the middle of the road ahead of her. It was a farm wagon, overturned on its side, the driver nowhere to be seen.

  "Steady," Tess crooned to the roan, reining in and preparing to pick her way around the obstacle. She cast a quick glance into the ditch on the side of the road, thinking the owner might have been tossed out and now lay there wounded.

  Without warning a hard hand gripped her ankle and wrenched her savagely from the horse.

  A thick wedge of wool was thrust over her face and mouth. She kicked wildly, trying to scream.

  "What —" Her foot struck bone, and she winced, then turned to deliver another sharp blow in the same direction.

  Muffled oaths. Strong fingers biting into her elbow.

  She stumbled free and blindly began to run.

  The next thing Tess knew she was falling, only to strike rocky soil a moment later. Stars exploded before her eyes; a queer whine filled her ears.

  Then darkness rushed over her, dank and suffocating.

  Just like in her nightmares.

  * * * * *

  When Tess opened her eyes again, it was night.

  Or at least it seemed to be night. She couldn't be certain, for her eyes and face were still muffled in the heavy wool.

  She was sitting on a chair, that much she did know, for she could feel the frame and padding beneath her. But where?