The Black Rose Read online

  Instantly Ravenhurst pivoted, then drove his knee between her flailing legs. At the same moment his fingers dug into her straining hips and forced her forward until she was anchored against his thigh. His dark eyes glittered with triumph. "You wanted me to believe that, didn't you? But it won't work. I didn't believe it then, and I don't believe it now!"

  Tess gasped, twisting helplessly, feeling the hard blade of his arousal through her thin skirts. She jerked her hands wildly, desperate to rake him with her nails, but his granite arms held her captive. "Then, my lord," she spat, "you are a fool whose conceit knows no bounds!"

  Grim-faced, Ravenhurst cupped her slim hips and ground his rampant manhood against her. "Not conceit, my love — just raw, hard fact. You see, nothing's changed between us, Tess," he snarled. "You burned for me once and by God I'll see you burn for me again. But I warn you — one more trick like that will find you over my knee while I teach you some manners!"

  "I'd like to see you try!"

  Ravenhurst's fingers tightened on her hips. "Don't tempt me, little hellcat. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than leaving my palm prints all over your sweet, pouting bottom."

  Wild with fury, Tess wrenched against his grip, only to find herself quickly overwhelmed. His hands were granite-hard from years of fighting cables and furling sails. She could feel exactly where the rough callouses scraped her wrists.

  Still she fought, her cheeks flooding crimson. But every movement drove her more intimately against his aroused body, making her savagely aware of the rigid column of muscle digging into her thighs.

  And she hated herself for that awareness.

  "You're just like all the rest of your arrogant sex! It's some kind of sick game you play, isn't it? The eternal thrill of the chase! Well, I'll not be your prey, do you hear? And I'll never surrender — not to you nor to anyone else."

  Slowly Ravenhurst captured her straining wrists within one powerful hand. Some dark, fleeting emotion came and went in his eyes. "Oh, far more than a game, my dear," he whispered harshly, reaching out to anchor her face in his free hand. "And cease these comparisons to the other men who've shared your bed. I'll make you forget them soon enough, I assure you."

  For long moments neither of them moved, chest against chest, hip to thigh, their eyes and bodies locked in deadly combat. Between them the electric tension built, spiralling and swelling until Tess thought she would suffocate.

  Yet something about the man's arrogance triggered a reckless response in her, made her want to goad and challenge this dark-faced intruder, to strip away his veneer and reveal the raw feelings he was working so hard to conceal.

  Had she thought about it, she would never have followed that wild instinct. But at that moment Tess was driven by something deeper than thought, something as old as time. High color stained her cheeks as she felt the evidence of his desire at the curve of her stomach.

  She did not question why she acted as she did. She did not think at all, but simply followed the call of the angry voices clamoring in her head.

  For though Ravenhurst looked dangerous, his violence was still somehow leashed, and Tess wanted to find out what this stranger with the face she could not forget would look like when he exploded.

  Yes, perhaps then ...

  Her lips curved up in a mocking smile. "I sincerely doubt that, my lord. No, you look a great deal too ..." Her head tilted back as she studied him with cool deliberation. "Battered about. Weary and weak from your years at sea," she lied silkily. "No, I'm afraid you're in no condition for a fight, my lord." She ran her tongue delicately across her upper lip, taunting him. "Not with me at least."

  "Am I man enough to take you on? Is that your question, Tess?"

  Her small, willful chin rose as fury goaded her one dangerous step further. "Are you, my lord?" Tess purred, studying him from beneath lowered lashes. "Man enough, that is?"

  And then some reckless demon made her move slightly, brushing her thighs against that straining line of male muscle.

  In that moment Tess had her wish. Her eyes glittering, she watched the last shreds of Ravenhurst's iron restraint shatter. With a graphic curse he captured her legs and wrapped them about his waist, letting her taste the full force of his angry arousal. His face dark with fury, he thundered to Edouard's long, flour-strewn worktable in the kitchen, where he deposited her sprawling, careful to keep her captive against him.

  "My condition," he snarled, bending down and forcing Tess closer against his hardened sex, "is more than adequate to service one devious little slut like yourself, let me assure you. And it will give me the greatest pleasure to prove it to you. Right here and now."

  Her gray-green cat's eyes glittering, Tess returned Ravenhurst's fury spark for spark. "How unfortunate for you, then, that you won't have the opportunity. Now, release me immediately, before Hobhouse comes looking for me and you make an even greater fool of yourself."

  "I think not. My love," Ravenhurst added, the words a curse on his lips. "You've used your time well, I see. What a very accomplished little trollop you've become. How many men did it take to teach you these squalid tricks?"

  Although her heart was pounding wildly, Tess managed to shrug in indifference. "Fifty. One hundred. What does it matter? Your bodies are all much the same in the dark, after all."

  Dane found himself scowling, unprepared for the scalding jealousy that knifed through him at her words. "How many, damn you?"

  "Does it bother you so? Then of course I must tell you. Fifty! No, thrice fifty!" Tess blazed, squirming madly against him.

  Suddenly she was desperate to break away. To escape the memories that threatened to engulf her ...

  At her movements, desire, savage and blinding, ripped through Dane's groin. With each touch of her twisting body he wanted her more. But he could not allow desire to become part of his game.

  Not his desire, at least.

  Cursing darkly, Ravenhurst tightened his grip on her wrists. "Tell me, what price does an experienced whore fetch in Rye these days?"

  Tess's breath caught for an instant before she schooled her face to icy indifference. "I haven't the faintest idea, my lord. Those who were fortunate enough to receive my favors would never stoop to discuss such a thing." She made a little moue of distaste. "For your information, however, I rather prefer objects. Clothing, carriages, jewelry — anything, so long as it is very fine. And very expensive, of course. As for you, my Lord Ravenhurst" — Tess lowered her lashes, her strange, uptilted eyes glittering with anger — "I sincerely doubt that you could muster my price."

  The viscount's eyes narrowed to dark slits. "Oh, I can muster your price, my dear — both in guineas and in male stamina. But the question is whether I would find such a well-ripened but obviously over-handled bit of fruit at all worth the trouble."

  Tess's heart slammed violently against her ribs. Faint streaks of red tinged her cheeks. But she fought down her fury, only smiling provocatively at the man bending so close to her.

  For some deep woman's instinct told her this would hurt Ravenhurst the most.

  "If you lack interest, my lord, then I can only wonder why you are here, determined to maul me about in this crude fashion."

  Ravenhurst's fingers bit into the fragile bones at her wrists as he studied her, captive beneath him upon the flour-covered table. "Because it suits me to be here, wench," he countered flatly.

  "Let me go, you swine! You're hurting me!"

  Again, Tess thought.

  "I might consider it. When you tell me all you know about the Fox."

  "What makes you think I know anything about the man?"

  One dark brow rose mockingly. "Don't you?"

  "And if I did," Tess continued, just as if he had not spoken, "what makes you think I would reveal any part of it to you?"

  "Because," the viscount growled, bending down until his breath teased her cheek, "I will most certainly squeeze the life out of that lying little throat of yours if you do not."

  "I rather thi
nk you might, at that," Tess agreed coolly. "However, I shall not put you to the trouble. You see, I have not the slightest knowledge of this notorious smuggler. He is a mystery to me — just as he is to every other person in this district."

  "Liar!" The word exploded off Ravenhurst's lips. "You can't have lived here so long and learned nothing about the man. Amos Hawkins must have had some reason for seeing your linens tossed out into the street."

  "Amos Hawkins is nothing but a black-hearted bully! Why do you bring his name into this?"

  "Because the man knows a traitor when he sees one. As do I."

  "We harbor no traitors here at the Angel!" Tess blazed back, struggling to break free. "What's more, I hardly see what all the fuss is about. Free trading is a way of life here along the coast, and has been so for over five hundred years. Indeed, if all the smugglers were jailed, there would be very few people left — whether farmer, fisherman, or excise officer." Furious, she squirmed back and forth but could not escape his implacable grip.

  She was good, Ravenhurst thought coldly. Damned good. "That sounds remarkably like sedition, my dear," he growled, forcing her wrists flat on the table beside her. "You'd be well advised to mind your tongue, lest people begin calling you a traitor as well as a whore."

  "Only a foul snake like yourself would be so crude! For I say no more than anyone in Rye would say — if they were honest, which they'd hardly be with an outsider like yourself. And I'll give you another truth, as well," she spat. "We don't care for strangers here, my lord. Too often they turn out to be tax collectors. Or press-gangs come to drag away our men in chains — brothers, husbands, and sons — to serve upon your cursed warships! Now, let me go, you — you — contemptible son of a worm!"

  Ravenhurst's lips thinned with anger. "Not just yet, I think." Ruthlessly he pushed her down, crushing her against the flour-covered table. His eyes were opaque and unreadable as he crouched over her, the sun streaming through the mullioned kitchen windows at his back. "We are at war with France, woman. Need I remind you that a war requires men and ships of the line? Those are the only things that will protect this coast if the French should choose to land here!"

  Tess could only stare back at him in patent disbelief. "An invasion?" she scoffed. "Here? You talk the worst sort of rubbish! This new military canal must thwart any French hopes on that score."

  "You seem very confident of that," Ravenhurst growled. "But it is my job to see that it does so." His eyes narrowed. "And Boney might find that the barren stretches of Romney Marsh have other uses for his men than as a landing place."

  Instantly Tess stiffened. "Are you insinuating we're in league with the enemy here?" she hissed.

  "Why don't you tell me?"

  Her eyes snapping, Tess twisted against his taut body, against his cruel fingers. "That I will, you arrogant cur. While our people may run uncustomed brandy and sail with the tide to Dieppe, they are Englishmen before all else! They would as little support Napoleon's military ventures as they would" — she muttered a most unladylike oath beneath her breath, searching for a comparison strong enough — "why, why — dance with the devil himself!"

  Dane's lips curved slightly. "You sound very certain of that, my dear. I can only wonder how you come to know these desperate criminals so well." Abruptly his lapis eyes narrowed, probing her face. "I have heard it said that this madman takes females into his motley band. Can it be that ..."

  Tess's pulse raced as she remembered how he had studied her sooty features in just the same way the night before. Sweet heaven, what if he recognized her as the woman from the alley?

  Wildly, she strained with thigh and chest, arching her back and twisting from side to side. But her struggles only forced her closer against Ravenhurst's unyielding form.

  Her captor stiffened, a vein throbbing at his temple. "Stop struggling, damn it! Unless you want me to take you here and now. This table will serve as well as any bed you have upstairs, by God!"

  Mute with fury, Tess glared back at him, her cheeks aflame.

  Slowly Ravenhurst raised a questioning brow. "Or is all this anger merely a smoke screen to protect something — or someone — else?"

  Tess's eyes darkened with fear at his cold scrutiny. "Let me go!" she cried, aware that every second brought him closer to dangerous recognition. "I — I don't know what you're talking about!"

  "No?" With his long fingers Dane tilted her head back and examined her face. "By God," he said sharply.

  Tess's pulse thundered in her ears. Wildly she wrenched against his hard grip, desperate to escape his gaze. "Let me go —"

  "I wouldn't have believed it," he muttered, as much to himself as to her.

  The look in his eyes made Tess's heart lurch sickeningly. He knew. Damn him! Why didn't he just get it over with then? Why did he continue to play this game of cat and mouse with her?

  Her captor's eyes narrowed. "It's true then. I can see it in your face." Slowly his fingers slid down to cover the pulse throbbing at her neck.

  Ashen-faced, Tess waited for his explosion of recognition.

  "Yes, you are frightened. Very badly, I'd say, though you conceal it well."

  A choked gasp broke from Tess's lips. "I'm n-nothing of the sort!"

  "You're bloody terrified, woman," Ravenhurst said wonderingly, his eyes widening.

  "Let me go, damn you!"

  "But why, I ask myself? It must be something very grave to frighten a hard-eyed little trollop like yourself."

  "You don't frighten me in the slightest," Tess blustered. "And I'll tell you once again — I know nothing about this man!"

  Ravenhurst smiled grimly, feeling her pulse leap beneath his fingers. "In that case, prove it."

  "You progress from insolence to imbecility!"

  "Not at all, little hellcat. Since you say you have no knowledge of the Fox, then introduce me to someone who does."

  Tess shook her head sharply. "That would be most unwise of me. And excessively unhealthy for us both."

  "You'll find it a damn sight more unhealthy if you do not, woman! You may have bought off your other men with a few hours of furtive groping in your bed, but you'll find I shall not so easily be appeased."

  "I wouldn't offer even a second of time in my bed to a filthy swine like you," Tess hissed.

  "Oh, you'll offer me that and a great deal more besides, Tess. Before we're done you'll give me anything I want. And what I want, my sweet, is simple — every bloody thing you have to give." Grim-faced, Lord Ravenhurst slanted his chest down over her straining body, every ridge of bone and muscle engraved upon her soft skin. "And then," he whispered harshly, "you'll give me a little bit more."

  "I'll give you n-nothing, bastard!" Tess sobbed, hating the ragged sound of her voice.

  Ravenhurst's eyes smoked with fury as he crushed her to the table. Shall we put it to a test then?"

  "You vile, degenerate —" Suddenly Tess gasped, feeling something thick and sticky slip down the neck of her gown.

  Slowly, with coolest deliberation, Dane assessed the remains of the cherry tart he had poured over her chest. "Yes, you put me much in mind of that confection."

  Tess closed her eyes, tossing frantically when she saw his intent. But it was too late. Already his dark, bitter face was descending inexorably.

  Then his mouth was upon her, savage and devouring, burning a path along her neck. "Stop!" she ordered shakily, all her energy given to fighting the wild swell of desire his touch provoked.

  Dear God, how could her body turn traitor this way?

  Again.

  But with her eyes closed to him, she felt him all the more intensely: his tongue rough and wet on her tender skin; his lips nipping, then dragging bits of sweet fruit into his mouth.

  "Very ripe," he whispered against her neck. "And obviously over-handled."

  Tess squirmed desperately, but could not dislodge his taut frame by even an inch. "I'll make you pay for this," she swore through clenched teeth. "If it's the last thing I do, I will!"

>   She opened her eyes as she spoke, blinking as Dane's dark, hungry gaze raked her face.

  "This is just the beginning, Tess. You know it as well as I do."

  "It's the end, you sea scum. The end of nothing!"

  Ravenhurst's face twisted, a hard mask of fury. "You cannot hope to fool me. Your wild pulse, your straining muscles betray you even now. Your body, at least, has not yet learned to lie!"

  " 'Tis you who lie, you who are twisted. Nay, an utter madman!"

  "Madmen sometimes speak the purest truths. Why don't you admit you want me?"

  "I admit nothing, save that I loathe you!"

  Hungry and smoldering, Ravenhurst's eyes pored over her. "Indeed? But I see I've missed the last piece of fruit. The ripest of all." Suddenly he shifted, one thigh pinning Tess's struggling legs while his other leg bent, braced on the table at her hip.

  Once more his dark head descended.

  And then raw torment — or was it sweet, searing pleasure? — swept through Tess as he wrapped his tongue around one perfect, budding nipple. Her heart hammering, she arched and strained against him, but the movement only drove her closer against his devouring mouth.

  "Tell me, damn you," Ravenhurst growled, his lips teasing the dusky, fruit-stained peak. "I'll never let you go until I have the truth, Tess."

  He would never release her, Tess realized dimly, biting back a wild moan of pleasure as his teeth tugged on her expertly. Dear God, she must escape! If he held her much longer she might ...

  "Very well, then, I will admit it," she whispered huskily. "If you give me an inch of room to breathe."

  His eyes dark with triumph, Ravenhurst relaxed his grip slightly and eased away. "Well?"

  "I — I had no idea ..." Tess whispered. Abruptly she turned her face away, unable to continue.

  "Tell me, damn you!" Ravenhurst's large hands circled her face, forcing her to look at him. "The truth this time!"

  "N-no idea" — one trembling hand slipped along the table — "that you could be so —"

  Her fingers closed to a taut fist — "so utter and complete an example of twisted depravity! With an angry sob Tess caught a handful of flour and hurled it wildly upward.