Page 5 of A Whisper of Desire
Her mouth dropped open. She struggled to find the words.
“Don’t be so surprised. With a madwoman out to do me harm, it is expedient I find a wife and have a son. You, little one, would be perfect in the role.”
Marisa realized she had been insulted and praised simultaneously. “Let me understand your intentions. Just becauseyouneed a child, you thinkIshould be flattered by a proposal that is simply you wanting a brood mare.” She swept her hand, indicating the full ballroom behind her. “Do you realize I could have my pick of unattached men here?” She poked him in his admittedly very hard and muscular chest, her finger lingering longer than necessary to deliver her derisive reply. “Why would I accept a proposal from a man so arrogant he feels he doesn’t have to court me? It’s as if I’m supposed to fall at your feet in gratitude. Let me tell you, sir, that will never happen.”
“Never is a long time, my lady.” He didn’t even apologize for his behavior. “If I went to Sebastian, he would look favorably on my suit.”
She almost choked on her drink, with bubbles going up her nose. The behavior was so unladylike it drew several of thetons’gossip-filled eyes their way. “You are deluded. You may be his friend, one of his best friends, but my brother would never force me into a marriage I did not want.”
He leaned closer, regardless of the audience that was gathering. “Then I shall have to ensure you want to marry me.” What the crowd could not see was the fingers of his right hand trailing down the curves of her side and over her hip. She couldn’t squirm or slap his hand away without alerting everyone to his disgraceful behavior.
She simply smiled sweetly and gritted her teeth. “I doubt you will achieve that goal, Your Grace. I’m expecting a proposal from a man who loves me, and Ishallbe accepting.”
She watched his jaw go taut, and his hand dropped from where it stroked her side. “We shall see, little one.” With that, he bowed low and lifted her hand to his lips. Ignoring their audience, he pressed his lips to her fingers and lingered longer than appropriate.
She wanted to rip her hand from his possessive hold but knew they were already a topic of speculation and she didn’t wish for others to get the wrong impression. If Rutherford thought His Grace was a suitor he might bow out, thinking he could not compete.
“There you are. I have been looking for you everywhere.” Beatrice, her sister-in-law, slipped her arm through Marisa’s and smiled up at His Grace. “Maitland, thank you for keeping an eye on Marisa. I hope she hasn’t been a nuisance.”
Marisa wanted to scream. If anyone was being a nuisance, it was he.
“It has been my pleasure,” he said with not a hint of irony. “If you’ll excuse me, I shall retire to the card room.”
He placed a kiss on Beatrice’s cheek and left without another word to Marisa.
“Ooh, that man. He’s so, he’s so, soinfuriating.”
Beatrice laughed at her outburst. “His Grace is a nice man, even though he sometimes makes me wonder if he knows how to be happy.”
Marisa looked at his departing back, trying to ignore the curve of his buttocks and his long, powerful legs. “He’s a duke, very wealthy and quite handsome. Why would he not be happy?”
Beatrice sighed and looped her arm with Marisa’s, leading them back to the refreshment table. Marisa drank the rest of her champagne before accepting another glass.
“His upbringing was not a happy one. His mother died in childbirth, and his father—I’m not sure if it was his wife’s death or if he was always that way, but he turned into a drunken, debauched, bitter man. I doubt Maitland ever received a kind word, let alone a hug. I’m sure it’s affected him. Maitland is just not demonstrative.”
Marisa’s face heated. He’d been plenty demonstrative earlier. Suddenly she felt a tad light-headed. “Excuse me, Beatrice, I need the retiring room.” Beatrice was about to say she’d come too, when Sebastian arrived, wishing to dance with his wife. She watched Beatrice and her brother as they waltzed and wondered where Lord Rutherford was. She frowned and steadied herself against the table. She put down her glass and decided she needed to sit for a moment. She’d hardly drunk anything this evening, but for some reason the champagne she’d sipped had gone straight to her head.
Chapter 2
Marisa woke from what she thought must have been a very deep sleep. Her head was a deadweight on her pillow. She’d obviously drunk too much champagne at Lord Dunmire’s ball, and she had a serious headache. If she moved, pounding drums began at her temples and moved to the back of her head. She didn’t want to open her eyes and face the day, but the thought that Rutherford might call, and that this could be the day he proposed, saw her brave any discomfort the sunlight might deliver. Her lady’s maid, Susan, always pulled back the blinds in the morning, so she pried one eye open and was surprised and relieved to find it was still dark, with only soft dawn light visible where the curtains met.
Joy! She could sleep for a few more hours and get rid of this throbbing head. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, snuggling down in the bedclothes.
She was just drifting off, her breathing in time with the drums playing in her head, when a large snore sounded close to her ear. For a minute she thought she had dreamt the sound, but then a large, hard body curled round her, dragging her back against a very male front. She swallowed her panic and nausea. Someone had invaded her room and was in bed with her, and they werenaked.
She should scream; her brother would be here in a flash and he would kill whoever was trying…But her bedmate wasn’t trying to do anything. He was doing nothing but holding her gently in his arms.
Oh, dear.She knew she’d been light-headed at the ball but she’d swear she had not drunk much. She blamed her moment of madness with Maitland for her giddiness. She remembered dancing the second waltz with Rutherford. Had she grown too bold and invited him to sneak into her bedchamber?
Why couldn’t she remember?
She looked over her shoulder without disturbing her bedmate. Her heart sped up. It wasn’t Rutherford, for the man’s hair was dark.
With headache forgotten, she eased back the covers so as not to alert her captor, and viciously dug her nails into the arm wrapped around her waist, until with a loud curse the hairy arm disappeared and she could jump free.
She was almost to the door when she looked down and realized she was naked as the day she was born. She never went to bed naked, it was unseemly. She tried not to let panic seize her, but her throat was so tight she could barely breathe. If the Libertine Scholars’ enemy had got hold of her…
She spun round and made to reach for the quilt lying at the end of the bed when a voice yelled, “Christ, Marisa, what on earth are you doing in my room?” She watched in disbelief as Maitland Spencer, Duke of Lyttleton, sat up, swiped a hand over his eyes, and muttered, “What a beautiful sight. I must be dreaming.”
