Sailing to Love Read online

  He drew back to look down on her and with one finger he traced the outline of her mouth. She gasped with the intensity of the sensation, but still she tried to fight.

  “Let – me – go – ” she stammered.

  He laid his fingertip on the base of her throat where a pulse was beating madly.

  “No,” he said simply. “You want me as much as I want you.”

  “No,” she cried frantically.

  “Your mouth tells me one thing, your body says another.”

  He laid his lips over the little beating pulse, causing her to draw her breath in sharply, and dig her fingers into him as she was swamped by physical delight. She hated him for making her feel it, and hated herself even more, but nothing made any difference. She was invaded by a pleasure that made a mockery of her mind’s rejection.

  His kisses were moving up the length of her neck, to her chin, her mouth, renewing his assault there, purposeful, threatening, inviting, until she was dizzy.

  She felt faintness begin to overcome her and fought to stay alert, but he was too much for her. He overwhelmed her with his virility and his sensual mastery, until there was nothing in the world but him.

  She felt the train come to a halt, doors were opening.

  She heard the Earl say,

  “My wife has fainted. I will carry her.”

  She felt herself lifted up into his arms and was vaguely aware that he was descending from the train, walking a few steps, then climbing into a carriage.

  This was the time to save herself, her last chance of escape. But her limbs were heavy, and her whole body was full of a terrible lassitude, as though she had been drugged.

  And in a sense she had, but the drug was her own sensuality, unsuspected until now. But this fearsome man had detected it at once and used it unscrupulously against her, overcoming her independent will that she had thought so strong.

  “To the ship, quickly,” she heard him say. “My wife needs to rest as soon as possible.”

  The carriage was moving. She could already sense the salt air and hear the cry of the seagulls. In a few minutes they would reach the ship and it would be too late.

  At last they rumbled to a halt. He was getting out and drawing her after him, lifting her high against his chest.

  “Let me go,” she whispered in despair.

  “Never,” he replied simply, and began to mount the gangway.

  As they climbed higher and higher, she looked back over his shoulder at the ground falling away from them. It was too late. There was no escape now.

  She heard the Earl say,

  “Her Ladyship is unwell. Kindly show me at once to her cabin and set sail without delay.”

  As he began to carry her down some stairs and along a corridor, she could hear the sound of the engines, all ready for their departure.

  At last the Captain threw open a pair of double doors.

  “This is the Royal Suite, my Lord,” he said. “I do hope her Ladyship will be better soon.”

  “I’m sure she will,” the Earl said, carrying Venetia inside and laying her on the bed. “The excitement of our wedding day has overcome her. Please leave us now.”

  Only when the Captain had left did the Earl release her.

  “Alone at last with my bride,” he said in a mocking voice.

  “How – dare – you!”

  “Why should I not dare? We have the whole world before us and time to enjoy the delights of each other’s company. In a few minutes the ship will depart and our honeymoon will have begun.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Will you please keep your distance from me?” Venetia said in a biting voice.

  He shrugged and rose from the bed, but placed himself between her and the door.

  “Don’t try anything,” he said.

  All around her she could feel the ship vibrating as the engines hummed and the propellers whirred. Suddenly there was a small lurch and they were moving.

  Venetia pulled off the bridal veil and ran to the porthole, through which she could see the quay beginning to glide past. They were on their way to India.

  She turned a stony face on her abductor and found him regarding her sardonically.

  “So now I’m your prisoner,” she said.

  “No, you’re my wife.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “We can enjoy ourselves debating that another time.”

  “How can you possibly want to be married to a woman who hates you?”

  He shrugged.

  “Madam, I have as much concern for your feelings as you had for mine when you planned this escapade. Does that answer your question?”

  She could think of nothing to say. He was right.

  “Now,” he said at last, “I think it’s time for us to behave like newlyweds.”

  “If you imagine –”

  “I mean that it’s time we had a cosy, intimate dinner,” he said smoothly. “I’m hungry, and I am sure you are too.”

  “I – dinner?”

  “Of course, what were you expecting?”

  “Nothing – I’m hungry,” she admitted.

  “Good, I suggest we change our clothes and then have dinner served. Luckily my valet went ahead to join the ship when I left the hotel this morning, so he is waiting for me in my dressing room. But you, of course, don’t have your maid.”

  “I couldn’t risk anyone coming with me who didn’t have to.”

  “Very understandable. Can you manage alone?”

  “Certainly,” she replied stiffly.

  “Good, then I shall leave you.”

  “There is still time for you to let me go,” she said in a smouldering voice. “We can put in to shore –”

  “I have no intention of doing any such thing. Understand that, once and for all.”

  He headed to his dressing room, but at the door he stopped and looked back.

  “You have challenged me, madam, and I shall teach you what a mistake that was. I think we are both going to find the future very interesting.”

  He was gone before she could reply.

  Furiously she began to open her bags, realising the problem she had given herself by coming without a maid. It couldn’t be helped and she was better than most ladies at fending for herself. But she could have done with some assistance now.

  Looking round her, she had to admit that the Royal Suite was extremely impressive, being luxuriously decorated and furnished.

  There was an attractive sitting room with a desk, a table and some chairs. The walls were decorated with pictures which looked as though they had come from the Royal collection.

  The suite even had two bathrooms, one for her and a separate one attached to the Earl’s dressing room, which led off from the main bedroom.

  She looked into the dressing room and saw one narrow bed. Then she looked at the large double bed in her own room.

  It was a bed for honeymooners. And that was exactly what she was, as he had reminded her.

  He came back into her mind, tall, broad-shouldered, handsome, and above all intensely virile. He was a man made to be loved by women. He would attract them wherever he went and they would lure him, because he knew he could have any one of them he wanted.

  Inexperienced as she was, Venetia knew all this by instinct. No woman could possibly mistake the lusty gleam in his eye that said women were there to be enjoyed, and he would enjoy them at his leisure.

  She guessed he was a man who had never been rebuffed or made an object of scorn by a woman. Hence his rage with her.

  She knew that if they had met differently she too might have succumbed to the promise of unknown pleasure implicit in his every line. She could have fallen in love with his air of being master of the world.

  But they had met as foes and now she must beware of the very things that drew her towards him. She could not afford to weaken, to soften or to yield an inch.

  Not an inch.

  For some reason the thought made her eyes fall on the luxurious en
gagement ring. It was a truly magnificent creation, with one large diamond surrounded by many small ones. He had given it to his future wife, but he had not meant it for her.

  Slowly and deliberately she removed it from her finger and put it in the drawer of the dressing table.

  When she had unpacked, she went into the bathroom and ran some water. As she lay down in the bath with the cool water flooding over her naked body, she thought of Mary, and hoped that all had gone well with her and she was married to David by now.

  It was peaceful in this quiet little room and she needed time to think, but she could not stay here forever. Sooner or later she must rise and go forth to do combat with her enemy.

  The armour she chose for the battle was the blue satin that she had worn on the first evening. It might not be an ideal choice, but the others were badly creased. This one had been packed at the last minute, and survived better.

  She managed to put the dress on but at the last moment she encountered a problem. Without a maid there was no way she could do up the back.

  “Oh no!” she cried furiously, turning this way and that in a vain attempt to reach the hooks and eyes.

  There was a knock on her door.

  “Is anything wrong?”

  “No, everything’s – I mean, it’s all right,” she called back hurriedly.

  “It didn’t sound like it.”

  “I just – have a small problem,” she said through gritted teeth.

  She was still struggling with her back to him as he said, “allow me to help.”

  Whirling, she saw that the Earl had come into the room and was standing there, watching her.

  “How dare you come in here while I’m – ?”

  “In a state of undress? It’s as well that I did, or you could have remained that way for a long time. Luckily it’s part of a husband’s prerogative to act as lady’s maid. Keep still while I do you up.”

  Her cheeks flaming, she had no choice but to stand still while he connected the hooks and eyes with an expertise that made her wonder how often he had done this before. Many times, if what she had heard was true.

  When he had finished he stood back and surveyed her critically.

  “Charming,” he said, “although a little old-fashioned. You didn’t buy that dress this year.”

  “No,” she said defiantly.

  “As Lady Mountwood you’ll need to keep in the fashion. Never mind. The colour is admirable with your eyes. What jewels will you wear with it?”

  “I was just about to go through my jewel case.”

  It was on the dressing table. He began to study it, seemingly not impressed.

  “This will do for the moment,” he said, holding up a small diamond necklace. “But you will need more jewellery as soon as it can be arranged.”

  His lofty tone stung her to say,

  “I am quite content with what I have, thank you.”

  “But I am not and that is what matters.”

  He fell silent suddenly and she saw that he was looking at her left hand, which now showed the wedding ring but not the engagement ring.

  When he finally spoke his voice was deceptively light.

  “Did you toss it overboard?”

  “No, of course not. It’s here.”

  She opened the drawer and showed him.

  “I think you should take it,” she said, holding it out to him. “I cannot wear it.”

  “And it’s better to keep it safe,” he agreed, taking it from her. “Now, stand still while I put this around your neck.”

  She was startled. She had not expected him to take her rejection of his ring so calmly. But he behaved as though the matter was closed.

  She did as he said, standing quietly while he secured the necklace, feeling the soft brush of his fingers against her skin. She tried not to react, but she could not help the tremors that went through her at that whispering touch. It took all her self control not to shiver with physical delight, but she would die before she let him know how he affected her.

  Except that he probably knew already? He was an experienced seducer, wise in the ways of women, with a hundred erotic skills at his command.

  Not an inch, she reminded herself.

  “Good,” he said at last. “That will do until I can buy you something more suitable to your station in life. Now, I believe they are ready to serve dinner, so it’s time for us to go.”

  He offered her his arm, she took it graciously, and together they walked into the room next door, where the table lay prepared. The cook was there and a waiter ready to serve them, both smiling at the newly married couple.

  “I’ve prepared a special meal for the first evening of your marriage,” the cook said. “I do hope the bride and groom with enjoy it.”

  “Thank you,” the Earl said at once. “We are both of us very grateful and looking forward to it. Aren’t we, my love?”

  “Yes, indeed,” she said.

  They pulled out the chairs and the new husband and wife seated themselves on opposite sides of the small table.

  To begin with everything was formality. The first course was served and the wine opened. They spoke to each other in measured tones, conscious of the presence of the waiter.

  Venetia discovered to her surprise that she was extremely hungry. She had eaten little before leaving for the church and nothing since then.

  At last the Earl signalled for the waiter to leave them.

  “So now,” he said when they were alone, “we can discuss matters calmly. I’m still rather vague about exactly how you managed all this. Those letters –”

  “I wrote them. Mary’s father has some stationery that he brought home from Windsor Castle. I wrote one letter to you, one to Sir Edward and one to the Captain of this ship.”

  “All from the Queen?”

  “Of course.”

  “My congratulations. An excellent piece of organisation. And you fooled us all. You should have gone into the diplomatic corps.”

  “If they are ever enlightened enough to appoint women, I shall certainly do so,” she said with spirit.

  “You constructed an elaborate jigsaw puzzle, and all the pieces fitted perfectly. But for the merest chance, I wouldn’t have known there’d been a substitution until we were at sea.”

  “That was the most important thing,” she said. “You might have stopped the marriage and there would have been a tremendous uproar.”

  He stared at her.

  “I think uproar would have been the least of it,” he said at last.

  “Well, arranging the marriage like that was crazy,” Venetia said indignantly. “I thought that when I first heard about it. Then, when I realised how terrifying it was for Mary, I felt I had to do something to save her.”

  “And what about you? Did you never worry about your own fate?” he asked curiously.

  “It was a tremendous effort on my part,” Venetia told him, “to marry anyone in such an extraordinary way. But my father and mother are dead and I am my own mistress.”

  “Insofar as any woman is ever her own mistress,” he observed dryly.”

  “Many woman are.”

  “The point is that they should not be. Independence is unnatural for a woman. She needs male guidance to prevent her making foolish use of her freedom.”

  “Well, I could hardly have done anything more foolish than marry you, could I?” she demanded tartly.

  “Precisely. I’m glad you realise it. So, your parents are dead. Who were they?”

  “My father was James Baydon, son of Sir Elroy Baydon, which I know you will find disappointing.”

  “Will I?”

  “I am the granddaughter of a mere Baronet. Far too lowly for you.”

  “I shall endeavour to control my disappointment. What about your mother?”

  “Her father was Viscount Daviton.”

  “So you are not entirely without titled connections? Good. Then I shan’t need to throw you overboard.”

  He spoke so coolly that she cou
ld not be quite sure whether he was joking. Then she caught the gleam in his eye. It was a cold, cynical gleam, but there was humour behind it as well. She met it defiantly.

  “I’m surprised you would bother to throw me,” she said lightly. “I would think that as a dutiful, obedient wife I’d be expected to jump.”

  For a moment he was startled, then he raised his glass to her in ironic salute, observing,

  “It had not occurred to me that you intended to be dutiful and obedient. What a delightful surprise!”

  “Do not rejoice too soon,” she advised him. “I never said that was what I meant to be – only that you would expect it.”

  “After the trick you’ve played on me, I think it’s the least I can expect. You seem to have thought of everything,” the Earl said in a somewhat sarcastic voice, “except me and my feelings.”

  “It is difficult to worry about you,” Venetia told him, “you have everything. A great title, the favour of the Queen and the newspapers invariably describe you as the handsome Earl of Mountwood.”

  He gave a dismissive shrug.

  “Newspapers!”

  “I do agree,” Venetia said earnestly. “They exaggerate so much, do they not? But, allowing you to be no more than passable looking, you still have all the advantages on your side.”

  “Except the privilege of choosing my own bride.”

  “That, from a man who allowed the Queen to choose his bride for him, is a thoroughly absurd objection. I would not have thought any man could agree to such an idea – even from the Queen – without making objections. It argues a meekness of character that fills me with dismay.”

  She had the pleasure of seeing that she had robbed him of speech. At last he managed to say,

  “You will not find me meek, I assure you madam.”

  “I’m delighted to hear it. I should hate it if you were one of those men who is magnificent outside and a rabbit inside.”

  “Are you trying to provoke me?” he demanded with a flash of anger.

  That flash told her that, despite his civilised air, he was still suppressing a deep rage that insisted on breaking to the surface now and then.

  A wise woman would have tried to appease him. But perhaps Venetia was not very wise, for she said,