A Whisper of Desire Page 3

  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.”

  Marisa grabbed for the quilt to cover her nakedness. While His Grace fell back among the pillows, holding his head and murmurring, she took a moment to look round the room. It certainly wasn’t her bedchamber. How had she got here?

  When she gazed back at Maitland her mouth dried and her face heated. The sheet had slid down his body and exposed his muscled chest, and her eyes followed the trail of hair down to where it disappeared under the sheet lying below his hipbones. Looking at the cut of muscle above his groin, emphasizing his hips, was like looking at perfection. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautifully masculine. Her eyes roamed back up over his torso to meet eyes flared with passion and a quirked eyebrow.

  “Do you like what you see?” he asked with a gravelly, “I’ve just woken up with a bad head” kind of voice. When she remained speechless, he added, “You know, after our tête-à-tête in the alcove this evening, I thought I’d made it clear I was attracted to you. There was no need to drug me in order to have your wicked way with me.”

  “Drug you,” she spluttered. That was what the unusual taste in her mouth was. She’d been drugged. “I certainly didn’t drug you.” A terrible thought entered her head. “Did you do this to try and compromise me?”

  He laced his hands behind his head, leaving the sheet low on his hips, understanding perfectly well what the sight of his nakedness was doing to her.

  “I was joking, little one. We have obviously both been drugged and placed in this room. I suspect that the door’s locked.” He didn’t look any happier than she did at their predicament. He’d closed his eyes and the frown deepened on his brow. She stood silently watching him, hoping he’d come up with some miraculous solution to this dreadful situation.

  He let out a sigh and ran a hand over his face. She could hear the friction of his palm against the dark stubble. “This is disastrous.”

  She closed her eyes and tried to stop herself from screaming. “Surely there is a way to escape this trap. Can’t you think of something?”

  “You standing there virtually naked is a distraction, little one. Give me a moment to gather my thoughts. I’ve only just woken up.”

  He wasn’t lying. She could see the banked fire in his eyes begin to light. She hugged the quilt tighter against herself, hoping it covered as much of her as possible. She certainly wasn’t brave enough to flaunt her body like he was his; but then, he did have a spectacular body.

  Impossible man. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, cover yourself and do something to get us out of here. In fact, turn your head and don’t look while I wrap this quilt around me.”

  “You’re bossy in the morning.” With a wink that looked so strange on his normally stoic features he turned his head to the side, and she quickly wrapped the material round her and under her arms, with the last bit thrown over one shoulder like a cape.

  “You can look…” He was already looking.

  “I saw you were finished in the mirror.”

  Marisa looked to the right, the direction his head was turned toward, and there was a mirror. He’d watched her. Heat prickled her skin and she wanted to slap his smug face.

  He rolled onto his side and patted the bed next to him. “Don’t get angry. I simply followed your instructions. It’s not my fault you didn’t check the room for mirrors. I thought you beautiful before in your ball gown, but seeing you as God intended makes a man want to weep.”

  Her heart was thudding in her chest so loud she could almost hear it. Maitland’s words were said with so much sincerity she almost took a step toward the bed.

  “I may have suggested a marriage earlier in the evening, but I would never dishonor you to achieve that goal.”

  She fought with herself, trying not to take her anger out on Maitland. “I know that. You would never do that to me, or Sebastian. Then why are we here?”

  “Good question. I suggest we try to ascertain the how, and then the why, and then the who.”

  She continued to stand near the door, trying to keep the quilt from unraveling and exposing any more of her person than was necessary. The way he drank her in unnerved her. No man had ever looked at her with such longing, not even Rutherford.

  “You may be able to lie there all calm and collected, but Sebastian must be looking for me; he’ll be beside himself with worry.” She turned to scan the room, looking for her clothes. When she could see none, she felt tears building. “I have to get home.”

  In one fluid motion, Maitland rose from the bed, all lethal panther, with muscles rippling under his skin. She tried not to look, but her eyes were drawn down and down, but to her disappointment he’d pulled the sheet with him, wrapping it round his hips.

  “We don’t know what is outside that door, Marisa. If, as I assume you’ve already deduced, this is the work of our villainess, then it would pay to be careful. Until I know it’s safe, you have to stay here.”

  A woman they’d named De Palma was bent on destroying the Libertine Scholars. She’d almost destroyed Marisa’s brother a few months ago, and now it looked as if she was after Maitland.

  He moved past her to the door and pressed his ear against it, holding up a finger for her to be quiet. After a moment, he said, “I hear nothing.”

  “That’s good, right?”

  He shrugged and the sculptured muscles rippled once more. This was not the time to be a silly romantic young girl staring at her first naked torso.

  “Hide on the floor near the other side of the bed and don’t come out until I’m back.”

  “You’re leaving me?” She grabbed for him, almost dropping her quilt. She gripped his large hand as if she’d die if she let it go. “Don’t leave me here. I want to come with you.”

  Maitland pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair as if calming a distressed child. “I promise I’m only going to try and learn where we are being held. I won’t go far. I would never leave you here, I promise.” Then he lifted her face and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

  She didn’t know if it was the kiss or the feel of his skin or the fear of being left here alone, but she threw herself into his arms and kissed him as if he was the last man on earth.

  The kiss soon swept them both away. Her hands wound into his hair while his roamed her body as if he had every right to it. The sheet wrapped round his hips afforded very little protection from the instant response of his body. It stirred desire deep within her and she let her hands do what they’d wanted to do ever since seeing his naked torso. She ran her hands down his back, shocking herself as she slipped her hands beneath the sheet to cup his buttocks, pulling him closer.

  He moaned deep into her mouth and she felt him tug at the quilt. She eased away from him so he could pull it from her body. As it dropped to the floor her inhibitions went with it.

  This could be their last day on earth and she wanted to give in to the passion Maitland stirred in her. She’d think about the consequences once they were rescued.

  With the boldness she was renowned for, Marisa relished the feel of skin pressed to skin. When Maitland lifted her leg to his hip and ground his erection against her sweet center, all thoughts of peril and escaping their captor fled.

  The kiss grew in passion and soon all she could hear, and feel, was the man who was making her wild with uncontrollable desire.

  It was therefore a complete shock when suddenly she found herself roughly pushed out of his arms, and he was trying
to wrap her back up in the quilt lying at her feet.

  When she opened her mouth to protest he placed his finger over it in a shushing motion. It was then that she heard what he must have heard, footsteps and muffled voices.

  He pushed her behind him, his large body shielding her as the door opened. She couldn’t see who it was.

  “Your Grace, my apologies, I did not know you would be spending the night at my home. If you’ll excuse the intrusion—”

  “Maitland, I can’t find Marisa. Lady Dunmire is helping me search the house.” Sebastian pushed into the room.

  Her heart lifted and she stepped out from behind Maitland. “Sebastian,” she cried, and promptly tripped on a corner of her quilt and fell into her brother’s arms.

  It was only the deafening silence that alerted her to the fact she’d probably made a mistake—had most definitely made a mistake by revealing her identity. If she’d stayed behind Maitland, Lady Dunmire would have had no idea who he was in the bedroom with.

  Marisa looked into the corridor and saw the look of horror on Lady Dunmire’s face. She stammered, “It’s not what you think.”

  Sebastian pushed Marisa gently back into the room, turning to block Lady Dunmire’s view of the bedroom and occupants from the corridor, then uttered, “Thank you for your help, my lady. If you’ll pray allow me some time with my sister and His Grace,” and he calmly shut the door in her face.

  “That wasn’t wise,” Maitland said, surprised that Sebastian hadn’t blown his temper already. It didn’t look good. Here Maitland was with his best friend’s sister, virtually naked, in a bedroom.

  Sebastian pulled Marisa into his arms and hugged her. “I’ve been so worried. Are you hurt?”

  Maitland watched tears well in Marisa’s eyes as she snuggled into her brother’s arms and said, “No. We are both fine, except for a bit of a headache from having been drugged.”

  Sebastian raised his eyes to Maitland, who nodded. “I knew there had to be an explanation. You would never do anything like this to me or Marisa.”

  “Thank you for saying that, my friend. I’m assuming this is the work of our enemy. I have no idea how I got here.”

  “To what end?” Marisa said.

  The two men stood looking at each other, and when Sebastian nodded toward where Marisa was hidden in his embrace, Maitland understood what he was indicating. Marisa was compromised and Maitland’s reputation was in tatters too. They would have no choice now but to marry. Maitland didn’t believe the villainess would leave it there. She obviously had a plan, but involving Marisa was their enemy’s mistake, as now he was really angry. She could target him, and the other Libertine Scholars, but to hurt or ruin Marisa—he silently vowed he’d not let anything happen to Sebastian’s sister.

  Back to the situation at hand. They could not rely on Lady Dunmire keeping the situation secret. He nodded his affirmation. They would have to marry now. He could protect her better as her husband.

  However, Maitland was not happy with this turn of events. He’d had time to consider Marisa as his duchess. Their kiss earlier in the evening, and her response to him just now, proved she was not the woman he needed as his wife. She was far too passionate. Fire flickered in her veins, as it did in his. Together they might just combust.

  He’d tried to tell himself that just because his father put sex before anything in his life, that didn’t mean he would be the same. His father had become obsessed with fucking; he was rumored to have spent money at London’s brothels, both high-class and seedy, until, riddled with the French disease, he found those doors had closed on him. That was when he’d taken to rape—men or women, it didn’t matter.

  Maitland had tried to contain him, but he’d been too young, not yet matured in physique to stop him. By the time he’d grown in stature equal to his father it had been too late. Too late to save the woman who loved him and the life he could have had.

  He looked like his father, he had his father’s temperament, and, like his father, sex filled his every waking thought. His biggest fear was turning into a sex-fueled predator too. The incident in the barn when he was sixteen taught him he walked a fine line between normality and becoming like his father.

  Over many years he’d taught himself to ignore or control his baser urges. He did not keep a mistress; he sought out courtesans only a few times a month at most, and always a different one so that no relationship could develop. He rarely pleasured himself—only when the urge became almost unbearable.

  One taste of Marisa’s lips and he realized she would be the type of woman to test his control. She was passionate, sensual, and inquisitive. He could almost taste how eager she was to learn about sexual congress.

  His only safety net was that he doubted Marisa would find this situation to her liking. Her heart belonged to Rutherford, a man unworthy of her love. Yet if she loved another, it might dampen her want of him. He needed to make a plan, something to keep her as far from him as possible.

  The problem was he wanted a son. Needed a son.

  He looked at Sebastian and asked, “How long have we been missing? What is the time?”

  “It’s almost six in the morning. You have been missing since the ball finished.” Sebastian added, “When we could not find you both we assumed you had taken Marisa home. When we arrived home and Marisa was not there, I realized something was afoot. I had better send word to Beatrice and Helen; they are worried sick.”

  “While doing so, could you please organize clothes for us both? Our garments are missing, I assume to make a quiet escape impossible,” Marisa said.

  Maitland cleared his throat. “Perhaps Lady Dunmire could lend us clothing to see us home. Sebastian, I assume you have brought your carriage.” He looked out of the window. “The sun’s up. We will be the talk of the ton. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Then his words must have sunk in. Marisa pushed out of her brother’s arms. “Oh, my, Rutherford.” She turned pleading eyes to Sebastian. “You have to ask him to call so I can explain what has happened.”

  “Let’s worry about sorting out the situation once you are home and rested,” Sebastian said, placing a kiss on top of Marisa’s head. “I’ll organize the clothes. I doubt that I shall be able to keep Lady Dunmire from talking.” He looked at Maitland as he said those words. “I’ll be as fast as I can.” With that, he slipped from the room.

  “Do you think Lord Rutherford will understand?” Marisa asked, as she sat down on the side of the bed looking thoroughly dejected.

  “If he truly loves you, he’ll not care about this scandal.”

  “He does love me.”

  Maitland marveled at how deceitful Rutherford had been. Marisa truly believed Rutherford loved her. It was going to be a steep learning curve for her; she would find people could lie and deceive about anything to get what they desired. She’d learn that not all men are as honorable as her brother, and that in all likelihood she would have to become his duchess.

  If he weren’t so honorable he’d use her love for Rutherford to get out of this mess. If he said nothing and let her marry Rutherford, he’d save both of them heartache. He wished he could be so cruel. Perhaps he could simply tell her the truth and let her choose the lesser of two evils—marriage to him or to Rutherford.

  He worried that once he told Sebastian about the conversation he’d overheard with Rutherford, her brother would not allow Rutherford near her.

  Honor won.

  “Why are you so sure he loves you? He’s young, and usually handsome men with wealthy titles are not in a rush to marry. They are too busy sowing their oats.”

  Marisa smiled so sweetly he hated how he could break her heart with only a few words. Rutherford had a mistress and was marrying Marisa for her dowry, and to be free of his father. Even if he told her the truth would she believe him?

  “He told me he loves me.”

  “It’s not wise to always believe everything a man tells you.”

  She thought on that for a momen
t. “No. Not always, but why would he lie?”

  “Perhaps because you are beautiful and your dowry is large.”

  She laughed. “Maitland, you are so silly. Rutherford will be a marquess. When his father dies he inherits everything. He doesn’t need my money.”

  “He won’t in the future, that is true, but what about now? What if his father has limited his allowance?”

  A frown crossed her beautiful face, making her nose turn up. “Why would his father not provide an adequate allowance?” She crawled up onto the bed and padded across the sheet to where he sat and looked into his eyes, trying to ascertain his thoughts. “Do you know something about Lord Rutherford that you are not telling me?”

  Chapter 3

  Here was Maitland’s chance to lie. He could tell her that Rutherford would make her a wonderful husband or he could tell her the truth. He eyed her earnest, concerned face and couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be brutal, because it would break her heart. Rutherford should be the one to tell her the truth, and then she should have a choice. Neither man loved her, but if she loved Rutherford so much…

  “I think you should ask Lord Rutherford if he has a mistress and what, if any, financial incentive he gets upon his marriage.”

  “You do know something.” She stared into his eyes accusingly. “I think you’re trying to discredit him because you want me to look more favorably upon your suit.”

  He shut his eyes and clenched his fists, drawing in a big breath. Suit? There would be no suit now. She didn’t understand her situation. How could she be so naïve? Once more composed, he took her hand in his, as her other hand clutched the quilt, holding it together, and he said, “I don’t need to court you, Marisa. If I know your brother, he will have sent for the bishop and a special license.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes and she tried to pull her hand free, but he held fast.

  “I know I have been compromised and I don’t blame you. I’m not stupid, but will you wait for me to talk with Lord Rutherford? Please, I’m sure he loves me enough.” At the look of pity on his face she burst into tears, and he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly.