ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER NINE

The damp cobblestones dazzled in the brilliant morning sun as Maurette entered the courtyard. Dominic was awaiting her with two horses. Her own little apricot mare pranced prettily in anticipation of an outing while Dominic's enormous black stallion stood solidly alert, his big head poised proudly.

Dominic swept the approaching Maurette with a silver gaze. He smiled, and his freshly shaved face, having lost the shadows of the night's deliberations, shone with good health and robust pleasure in the glorious spring day and the beauty of his companion.

Maurette had donned a full-length, cream colored woolen cloak. Its bright yellow piping matched her gown and gloves while a bonnet of the same colors topped off her outfit. A froth of creamy netting covered her face, and her bright violet eyes sparkled through the veil. Tousled golden tendrils of hair peeped from beneath her bonnet and formed saucy curls on her forehead and at the nape of her neck. She looked like a fragile spring blossom in the morning sun.

"You are a rare and bounteous feast for the eyes, little one," Dominic breathed huskily.

Ignoring the compliment, Maurette reached into her pocket and produced two carrots. "I have purloined these from the kitchen," she said. "Here is one for Melite, and, if I may, I should like to offer one to your stallion."

Dominic nodded his approval as Maurette held one of the treats for her own little horse and then, warily, approached the other animal. The stallion eyed her languidly and, dipping his big head, he gently, almost tenderly, plucked the carrot from her gloved hand. Dominic laughed heartily, flashing white teeth, and patted the animal's velvety muzzle.

"Durham looks the mighty rogue, but he is, when needs be, a honey-tongued gallant."

Maurette shot a glance toward Durham's master. He stood at the edge of the courtyard near his big horse, looking every inch the pirate that he was. His skin was bronzed and gleaming in the morning sunlight, and his silver-raven hair lifted in the breeze. His broad shoulders strained against the thin white cambric of his full-sleeved shirt.

"Durham has enjoyed an excellent teacher," Maurette said, casting a level look toward Dominic. He gazed at her, his smile deep and pleasant, and cocked a questioning eyebrow.

Maurette turned and moved toward her own horse. "Such perfidy of aspect seems not uncommon, I have perceived, in certain circles."

Dominic's smile remained, but his words came in a slow liquid drawl. "Another insult, little one? 'Twould seem you would have not had your fill of brawling."

Maurette swung around to face him. Her eyebrow arched, and her eyes flashed. She started to retort in anger but realized that to antagonize him would be foolish. She leashed her torrential emotions and took a deep relaxing breath. "As you said yourself, my lord, a person responds in kind. When in the company of a brawler, I brawl." Maurette slanted her gaze and smiled sweetly. "You may have bewitched Papa, Lord Warbrooke, but I have seen you in all your recreant glory and know you for that which, in truth. you are."

"And what, in truth, am I, my lady?" he asked amiably. Leaning back against the rough gray stone of the courtyard wall, he crossed his long booted legs before him and his arms across his muscled chest. When Maurette failed to answer his query, he added, "I have often felt it the most cowardly of cowardice to begin an accusation and then withdraw before the thrust is completed."

"I do not wish a verbal battle with you, my lord," she said archly. "In light of all that has happened only a dim-witted jackanapes would not take my meaning. I see no need to embellish what is most abundantly clear."

Dominic waited for further words from her. His brows quirked in expectant invitation. "If I am a 'dim-witted jackanapes' I am for missing your intent, then so be it, little one," he said finally. "I would hear what is on your mind."

Maurette could not contain her anger any longer. " 'Tis the marriage contract," she spat the words at him, has given my good parents some hope of nobility in you, sir. They see, in their optimism, that which I know is not there. They attempt to put the face of honor on your scandalous demand, but your compliance with that attempt deceives me not for a moment. You imagine that you have gained my confidence as well. Think again, sir."

Dominic shrugged away from the wall and advanced toward Maurette. She held her ground but would not, when he stood directly over her, lift her eyes to him. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her face to his.

"Do you remember the terms of our agreement, my lady?" His voice was silky. "I thought hard upon those words. You will give to me your support, service, and obeisance. And you will forbear all this with absolute equality sufferance, and restraint. You were willing enough to agree to these terms at sword-point, sweet. Must I needs carry a blade to hold at your throat for the rest of our lives?"

In his surprise and hers, Maurette slapped his hand away. Her astonishment at her own bold action was sudden and momentary. Dominic's eyes shot silver sparks of anger, but Maurette did not care, for she was angry too.

"For one year, sir," she said hotly. "The term of our agreement is one year. For one terrible year, I must do your insufferable bidding. But do not for a moment imagine that I am one to suffer a bully. I shall not shake and shiver at your commands. You may threaten, beat, and try to terrorize me, but if you do, I warn you that you had better have that blade at the ready, for I shall fight you, sir. I shall have my own blade at the ready, and that one year may indeed turn out to be the rest of our lives." Maurette's eyes flashed amethyst sparks, and her breasts heaved in her anger. "You see, I know your gallant compliance to be slime, sir. Slime that covers small cutting pebbles in a stream. They would rip the flesh to shreds if it trusts their oily surface."

She spun on her heel and made to leave the courtyard, but his big hand whipped out and grasped her arm before she could take a single step. He swung her to face him.

Dominic regarded her for a long moment. His mouth was a hard line and, as he attempted to leash his own wrath, a small muscle worked in his lean jaw. His words finally came, and they were like a taut cord vibrating with savage tension.

"May I make one suggestion to you my lady. You are from this moment to hold your viperous tongue." He shook her shoulders in his big hands and snapped her toward him. Holding her there against his hard body, he added in a low growl, "Do you understand?"

Maurette was momentarily cowed. A soft gasp escaped her lips, and her eyes grew wide. Licking at her lips, she took a long slow breath.

"If my tongue is viperous, sir," she said in a faltering voice, "'tis because I deal with a viper.", She tugged against his viselike grip. When he would not release her, she felt her anger rise once again and kicked out at him. This caused Dominic to twist her arm behind her back and hold her even closer. Kicking and wriggling in his grasp, Maurette found he was too strong for her.

"If you continue this struggle, little one, I shall need to use force to subdue you," Dominic said, his words coming in gasps.

"Use your damnable force, Dominic Warbrooke," Maurette jerked out raggedly. Wrathfully tears now filled her eyes and ran down her white cheeks. "You shall need to use force in any event if you intend to compromise my virtue." Kicking out wildly, she made contact with his shin which he pulled away but not in time to avoid the searing pain. She clamped her teeth down on his bare skin where the cambric of his shirt had fallen away and bared his skin. He flinched away, but again he was not swift enough to avoid pain.

Maurette was fighting now with a hysterical ferocity. Dominic had speared wild boars with less exertion than which he now used to subdue this tiny enraged woman. Desperately, chancing one injury to ease the pain of another, Dominic loosed his grip on one of her wrists, and reaching beneath her bonnet, he grasped a handful of curls and pulled. Her head snapped back-with force enough to snap her neck, she thought-but Dominic had reined in his strength to the point equal to that needed to quell her completely and no more. The action gave her pause.

A hush fell on the couple. Both took long calming breaths and attempted to subdue their roiling emotions. Dominic was startled by his use of brute force, having never had the need to apply it to a woman. what was it about this shapely, elfin lass that brought out his brutal instincts? Maurette knew that she had been foolish to rouse this man into a physical contest. He had proved that he could break her like a twig. And yet, there was something in his bold arrogance that made her want to lash out at him, to wipe that insolent smile from his lips.

"Let me go," she said finally through clenched teeth.

"I shall," said Dominic, looking down into her small, flushed face. Her huge eyes glistened with anger, and dewdrops of moisture trembled upon her thick lashes. A great tenderness washed over him. The last thing in the world he wanted was to harm this delicate creature whom he now held imprisoned in his powerful arms. She was made to be caressed and petted tenderly. He felt like a stupid, brawny oaf, willing a small animal to his bidding by main force. He loosened his grip but held her fast while he spoke.

"I shall loose you, Maurette, if you will give me your promise that you will stand and speak with me as normal people do."

Maurette checked her desire to escape his grasp and, once freed, wield one last devastating blow to his pompous lout and flee. "I shall stand," she said evenly.

"And speak with me?"

"Yes," she hissed.

"Have I your vow?" Dominic hid a small smile. He had not meant to bait her, but the angry scintilla flashing in her eyes let him know that he had. "Have I your vow?" he asked sternly.

"I vow, I shall stand," she said after a pause.

Dominic relaxed, then allowed Maurette her freedom, ever wary that she might at any moment attack him and injure herself as well as him, or run away. He would allow none of these to happen.

The two tried to compose themselves. Maurette attempted to tuck her curls beneath her hopelessly disarrayed bonnet, but gave up and removed the piece from her head. A wild tangle of curls fell over her shoulders and down her back. Watching Dominic steadily as he placed his hands upon his narrow hips and stood before her, his muscular chest heaving, she was silently glad that she had caused him such exertion and saucily flipped her curls.

"What is it you wish to say?" she said, looking without fear into his glittering silver eyes.

"I wish to say, my lady, that there is no need for all this hysteria." His voice was a study in frustration and control. "I wish to say that 'twas never my intention to force you into bed." He took several deep breaths before continuing. "No man truly wants a woman that way. As to doxies, dear, dear Lady Maurette, there are those enough to glut a man's sensibilities."

Maurette turned from him slowly so as not to provoke him into restraining her. Needing to untangle her jumbled thoughts, she moved to a low bench and sat down heavily.

"Exactly, sir, what is it that you want?"

"In truth I know not, Maurette." His hands dropped to hang along his muscular thighs. "'Tis only that I have never known the sting of what I feel when you are near."

Maurette offered him a piquant gaze. "Sting, sir?"

"Sting, my lady," he shot back. "'Tis easily the most difficult circumstance I have ever dealt with. When I feel anger, I rail and brawl; when I am content I sigh; when I am in need of female companionship, I satisfy my need with a lusty wench. What, may I ask you, am I to do with these fluttery, unmanly, soft, and piteously mind-weakening moods that overtake me when I am in your company? More importantly, what do I do with these moods when I am not in your company?" He stomped away from her and stood staring in abstract contemplation of the courtyard wall.

Finally, when she had said nothing for several moments, he turned back to her. "Dare I tell you that, in the past, when not overtaken by these foolish sensitivities I have proved myself a most convincing suitor?" A small self-deprecatory smile crossed his lips. "Will you not give me the opportunity to prove my worth to you?"

"To what end sir?" Maurette said sweetly.

Dominic threw up his arms, pleading to the deity for control. "To the end that we spend a pleasant day together, my lady. To that end alone, I beg an end to verbal jousting." He advanced and fell to one knee, looking at her with soulful eyes. "I do not tell you that this moment in eternity will solve all that we must solve together. I say simply that I would a day in your company I do tell you that, if it is within my power to make it so, 'twill be a pleasant one."

Maurette hid a smile of her own. The man had a most endearing lack of control when it came to his dealings with her. She smiled fully now. Tossing her rumpled bonnet onto the bench, she said, "You shall have your day, sir, but please," she added in a half-pleading, half-jesting manner, "do attempt to rein in this mind-weakening mood you speak of. I think my limbs cannot abide much more of it."

Their mood was jovial and familiar as Dominic assisted Maurette onto her mare, then swung himself with an easy grace onto the solid back of his own mount. He wheeled the high-spirited animal to a stately trot as they rode off toward the center of London.

>From a high window, Lady Violet peeked through a curtain and smiled with satisfaction at the scene she had just surveyed.

Pedestrians scurried in diverging paths as the handsome couple rode along the Strand. Families with walking carts and grimy animals made an amorphous swath on the dust street. Picking their way along the congested avenues, Maurette and Dominic rode toward St. Paul's. They made their way past the Royal Exchange where the gentry carried on their endless legal quarrels. They trotted through Eastcheap Market where country dwellers came to haggle with the townsfolk over the price of grain and livestock. Sonorous human voices mixed with sharp bleats and cackles and droning lows to blend in an uproarious, cacophonous clatter. The excitement of the city was infecting Maurette's own mood, and she found herself happy and full of life.

The steps of St. Paul's Cathedral were alive with beggars and trades-people, pigeons, and rollicking children. Finding a spot near the huge stone edifice, they dismounted and Dominic paid a lad to stable their horses, giving him an extra coin to provide good care. Then he and Maurette climbed the craggy steps.

>From the burned remains of the steeple in the old church, Maurette and Dominic scanned the city, which was animated with colorful traffic on this clear breezy day. To the east stood the Tower of London and St. Michel's.

To the west was the Convent Garden of the Abbey of Westminster, and to the south, they could see the waterfront along the Thames. The arches of London Bridge spanned the waters while ships and small boats skimmed its white-capped surface. Across the great river were the Fields of Finsbury where Master Burbage had built his amazing theater, for the extraordinary exclusive purpose of putting on plays.

At times, and simply to make ends meet, the Burbages rented out the round structure for bear and bullbaiting. After one of these events and before the public could be invited back in to view a play, new rushes had to be strewn to soak up the blood and excrement, always a product of that less refined activity. Even fresh rushes, however, could not completely eliminate the odors that emanated from that remarkable building's earthen floors. And a lingering scent of embattled animals accompanied each entertainment and wafted over the river to meet the city's own gamy smells.

To the north was Maurette's beloved home and the rich verdant country that supplied the city with so much of its fresh produce and meat. Maurette pointed excitedly to the location of the Harper country estate. If 'twas not for the overgrowth of spring foliage and gently rising slopes, one could perhaps see it from there, she explained.

Far below them, Maurette and Dominic could see the tumult in the dirty, crowded streets. For them, from their high vantage, the clamor and dust did not exist. The cold blue air they breathed was cleansed and clear, filled with scudding clouds and treetops, soaring birds and gray spires. The soughing wind was the only sound to reach their ears in their tranquil perch. The couple laughed at the silent masque-like quality of the jostling crowds beneath them on the cobbled streets. Strollers pushed and prodded at each other in an effort to win passage. While dogs and chickens and pigs vied for their own places in the crowded, foul-smelling mass.

It was with great reluctance that the couple moved from the stone wall of the tower and made their way down narrow steps to the nave. Gazing in reverent awe, they surveyed the statuary and hangings in the old church. Light and shadow played in shifting, Peaceful harmony among the lofty and massive carvings. Maurette knelt in silent prayer before the couple stepped out onto the narrow, noisy street.

Dominic took Maurette's arm and led her past aggressive, ill-smelling beggars. The couple stopped to inspect a lacemaker's basket and were jostled by vendors hawking vegetables and pastries, fruits and breads. In their progress through the city, they passed inns and alehouses, bowling alleys and brothels.

They selected, with much discussion, a blend of teas offered by a wizened old woman, who promised them that this particular concoction would ensure them, upon drinking it, a long, blissful life. Maurette, blushing at the woman's final promise of many strong sons, eyed Dominic askance as she placed the orange-scented bundle in her pocket, to see if he had noted the prophecy. He was, however, already perusing the contents of a leather maker's stall.

As the afternoon shadows lengthened, Dominic bought them each a meat pie, which they ate while they walked. They laughed joyously as the juices from the warm and succulent pastries oozed down their chins.

They turned up a narrow side street and ambled before peaceful gardens surrounded by iron fences. A small stone house stood in the center of one garden and was framed by long-stemmed, luxuriant, early-blooming iris. They stopped, and Dominic placed his arm around Maruette's shoulders as a pair of young children tumbled around the side of the house. Their youthful laughter was unrestrained as they roughhoused unabashedly and disappeared behind the other end of the house. Dominic's arm moved down to Maurette's waist, and they continued their walk.

The gesture seemed completely natural to both. They spoke easily and touched with spontaneous intimacy as one or the other of them pointed out a sight of interest or a particularly curious happening.

As they moved from the shaded gardens of London's residential area into the swarm and filth of Scalding Alley, they saw a fat butcher chasing a scrawny, featherless hen. Beggars no longer jostled passers-by but huddled in narrow doorways and pleaded for alms in feeble voices. Drunken men and woman sang raucously, leaning upon each other in unsuccessful attempts to walk upright, as Maurette and Dominic hurried through the strewn filth. Noting a particularly dirty, big-eyed child hawking his mother's needlework and his father's leather goods, Maurette stopped to bend low over his basket. She fingered a delicately sewn pincushion and wondered at the elegance and refinement of the work in so ungraceful an atmosphere. In the end, she chose the cushion and a scented sachet of leather goods and chose a pair of sturdy riding gloves. Dominic and Maurette hoped that the extra coins that Dominic had bestowed on the child would buy him a decent supper.

As they passed the malodorous Town Ditch, a crowd of robust teen-aged boys taunted with sticks the fearsome brown rats that fed upon garbage and the carcasses of decaying animals.

Maurette held her new sachet to her nose and giggled as she attempted to discourage Dominic from a serious and prolonged discussion with the lads as to the proper length a stick must be in order that it be both effective and safe for such diversion. Complete enjoyment of the entertainment depended, Dominic assured his newfound companions, on the length for maximum amusement. As Dominic finally led Maurette to an open carriage standing on the other side of the dusty street, the lads cheered him and bade him return soon. Maurette breathed a thankful breath , as the driver carried them away from the ditch, and chided Dominic as to the source of his important knowledge of rats and ditches. Dominic laughingly apprised her of the fact that his boyhood had not been entirely misspent in musty classrooms under the tutelage of stiff-chinned pedagogues. He had, he assured her, idled away many joyous hours at that very ditch.

In an amiable mood, they entered the lush expanse of Hyde Park. Dominic bade the driver stop and leave them for a few moments. With a gold coin firmly entrapped in his crust hand, the old man obliged and went to sit beneath a nearby tree while his withered horse munched happily at the rarely savored freshness of the luxuriant lawns.

Dominic faced Maurette on the wooden sear. "I am enjoying this day with you, Maurette," he said softly.

"I, too, am enjoying the day, my lord," she answered.

"You may wish to call me Dominic," he said gently. "After all we have shared this day…St. Paul's and the oozing pies and the Town Ditch…we should, perforce, be on the most intimate of terms.

"For all of that," said Maurette solemnly, "I do not know you, sir." She lifted her chin. "I do not really know you at all."

He took her hands in his, his smile warm and full of tenderness. "What you say is true and that must be remedied. We have but a little year together."

" 'Twas an inauspicious beginning, Maurette," he said earnestly, "but expedient." He regarded her for a long moment. "You know, little one, this contract that we must sign is not so bad a thing. "'Tis commonly accepted among commoners and kings." He paused meaningfully. "And errant knights," he added with a mischievous twinkle in his gray eyes.

Maurette stared at him in surprise. She could not imagine that he would jest in regard to the night before.

He continued, unabashed by her bemusement. "I am not the rogue you imagine me, Maurette…at least, I shall try to quell my roguish instincts from this moment where they concern you. If you give me the chance, I can show you that I am no monster. Trust me for but a while," He set down her hands and turned slightly away from her.

"Would you like to know what your father and I discussed while the early morning passed? I shall tell you. We spoke of you, Maurette," he said, turning to her once more and capturing her in a silver gaze. "We spoke of your welfare and of your reputation. I told him that it would be my pleasure to be faithful to our contract. No indiscretions will haunt our relationship. I told him that, for this next year, I would protect you from all harms and would cherish and adore you. For this next year, you shall have that life promised you by that old woman, not by drinking her teas, but by accepting what has come to pass and by realizing that, if only you will trust me, we can be happy. We can have our life of bliss, as that old woman prophesied, but we must make it so. I shall try, Maurette. Will you?"

Dominic's eloquence disturbed Maurette. He had spoken only of the next year. She did not know that she could vow such an attitude for so temporary a period. Her mother seemed sure that a legal marriage would ensue, but Maurette did not know that she even wished such a circumstance. She turned away to stare, without comprehension, into the purple mist of the eventide that was shadowing the park.

"I cannot answer you this moment, Dominic," she said faintly. Turning back to him and appraising the earnestness that she found in his eyes, she said gently, "I can promise you that I shall enjoy the rest of our day together. Beyond that, we must wait and see."

Dominic bowed his head. "I shall not press you," he said resignedly. "I ask only that you think on my words." With that, he motioned the driver back to the cart, and in silence, they continued their ride.

In the softness of the twilight, the color and excitement of Convent Garden was muted and hushed. As they passed the opera house, they watched ballet girls giggling together as they left their rehearsals. Jugglers and acrobats, still in their garish costumes, sat on the lawns beneath trees and on low stone benches, chatting quietly together.

The early twilight had faded to a soft blue-black evening before Maurette and Dominic entered a small alehouse where they enjoyed a dinner of roast beef and bread pudding. After the satisfying meal, Maurette sipped a cup of warm, spiced cider, and Dominic lingered over a pint of ale.

The pleasant strains of a small consort of stringed instruments wafted through the golden warmth of the cozy dining room. Maurette abstractedly hummed along while Dominic watched her and listened to her lovely voice with tender regard. When the familiar coda began, he took up the song in his own clear baritone.

The two harmonized the sweet melody and laughed, as they sang, over the impossibly romantic lyrics and did not realize that all eyes in the room had turned to watch the tall, bronzed buccaneer and the fair, jewel-like gentlewoman sing together in spontaneous joy.

Finally, ending the song with a flourish of complex harmony, Maurette and Dominic noticed the approving gazes of the other patrons. With smiles and unselfconscious delight, they accepted the light applause that complimented their performance. The couple's obvious bliss in each other's company was respected by the other diners, who, without pressing the songsters for another air, went back to their own conversations and food.

"You have a charming voice, Dominic," Maurette said.

"And you my lady," Dominic said with a courtly nod.

Maurette accepted his compliment and fluttered her silken lashes. "'Tis rare, indeed, to find such admirable facility in a man," she said with a saucy smile." Especially in a pirate…" Her jaw dropped suddenly, and her eyes widened in dismay at her gaffe. "I did not meant to speak so sir." She said with alarm. "Forgive me, I beg you."

Dominic reached out and touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. He felt the hot flush of her embarrassment. "Be bot so alarmed, sweet," he said fondly. " 'Tis only a word." He held her chin with his thumb and forefinger when she would have turned away. "You have given me, this day, more confidence in the joys to come than I had reason to hope for." He leaned across the table, "I am a most fortunate man, and I thank you for that sweet fortune." He saw that her eyes were soft and yielding, and he leaned back into his chair and smiled. "Words are but transient passers-by. By one spring, hence it might be a compliment to call a man 'pirate.' " His smile faded as he took in the tender pliancy that his words had caused to form in her aspect. "Your actions tell me more than that little word, Maurette," he said solemnly.

Maurette gazed at him. The man could be as pleasant and engaging as anyone she had ever met. Her face took on an ingenious vulnerability as she spoke her next words. "I have loved this sojourn with you, Dominic. Your fine attention is more than I could have wished for. I hope, too, that this next year is a memorable one for both of us. If 'twere but my companionship that you desired, I would gladly agree. As to the rest, however, I cannot yet tell," Here she lowered her eyes.

Recognizing the hesitancy in her demeanor, Dominic could see that their bargain was by no means sealed. His eyes when she looked up finally, were dark and shadowed. He looked off into a dim middle distance where Maurette knew he was alone and, perhaps, lonely.

She felt a feathery, insistent flutter somewhere deep within her. What was this thing, this sense, that had been growing all day in the hidden world of her emotions to throb now, so relentlessly within her soul? She would not have believed that the dominating, self-assured man before her could have caused such potent felicity. She would not have believed that the mighty Lord Warbrooke could ever feel what she perceived to be disappointment. She looked away from him once again.

"I will take you home, Maurette."

She heard the huskiness in his voice and despaired at the thought that she had nullified whatever had been built between them that day. She could not call it friendship, exactly, but some bond had begun to exist. The tragedy was that Maurette had lost much of the determination she had erected earlier in the day. How could she protect herself against a man she was beginning to…love? The word startled her.

After they had collected their horses from the stable, they rode, in silence, to Harper House. The stone and wooden edifice rose before them darkly against the dark night. Starlight shimmered in the wide arch of the night sky as they dismounted and walked slowly to the entrance. They stopped before the gate. Maurette turned to him and looked up into his gleaming dark eyes. Silver moonlight played on the planes of his bronzed face, and his raven hair shimmered in the star-frosted night.

>From somewhere inside the house a small light gleamed yellow and caught Maurette's face as she gazed, with liquid eyes, at his handsome face. He looked down at her for a long moment.

"I want so desperately," she said in a childlike voice, "to hate you, Dominic. But I do not." She moistened her curving lips with her tongue.

A soft groan emanated from deep within Dominic's chest. He encircled her waist with one muscular arm and in the same movement reached to cradle the back of her head with a large hand. He gazed down at thee soft planes of her oval face radiating in the dark night like a pale star. Dominic titled his head slightly as if studying a treasured object.

"Lovely," he intoned. His voice was a husky drawl. "So innocent and yet so wise." His fingers tightened, and their gentle pressure sent waves of eager warmth coursing through Maurette's being.

"Shall I be the one?" Dominic said with tender gravity. His lips came down toward hers. For a timeless moment they lingered just above her.

Maurette could feel their breathing blend in the tiny starlit space that separated them. With infinite yearning they came together in a rapturous kiss. Her arms entwined around his neck as a pliant fervor spread through her body. Her lips met his with their own demands. Maurette was swept away in a tender male-storm of passion.

After a long moment, Dominic released her. His strong arms encircling her supple young body, he held her firmly and steadied her. He stroked her hair as he drew her head to his broad chest and murmured low, gentling words to quiet the tremors that stirred her.

Maurette's legs felt like water, and her breath came in gasps. She did not know what was happening to her, but now, in Dominic's arms, she felt a completeness that she had not known before. Finally, as her trembling abated, she pushed herself back to look up into Dominic's eyes. She found a strange mixture of sadness and desire there.

He drew her back toward him, and her soft cheek rested against his muscular chest. Each pulsation of his heart filled Maurette with a throbbing desire that was stronger and yet more weakening that the one before. With one powerful motion, he swept her up and carried her along the curved path to the rear of Harper House. Maurette's head fell back over his arms, and her glistening curls were received by the night wind. In the silvery shadows of the back garden, he laid her down upon foliage, hidden from the world, he drew her cloak from her shoulders.

Abandoning herself to a glorious surrender, Maurette lay back on its languid folds and felt the fastenings of her gown being loosened. The tender scent of the moist April earth filled her soul, and the night's cool wind touched her bared shoulders. The rustling of her gown mingled with the rustling of the foliage that surrounded them, and Maurette felt that she was one with nature as passions she had never before realized feathered to the surface of her senses.

Her eager response emboldened Dominic. He lifted her, arching her soft white throat to his lips, Gentle, teasing kisses trailed down to her quivering breast. Maurette moaned beneath his hungry assault. Her arms entwined themselves round his neck, and her fingertips lingered in his raven curls. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be swept into the silken surge of Dominic's compelling passion.

"I love you," she whispered on the whispering night wind. At her simple declaration, Dominic suddenly stopped. Maurette's eyes unclose, and she looked up into the silvered reflection of his gaze. "What is it?" she asked softly.

"Do not…love me, Maurette," he said gently. "Never allow yourself to love me."

Maurette's eyes widened. "But I do, Dominic. I know 'tis true. These feelings I have could be nothing else. I have wrestled with them all day, and I know now that I love you completely."

"No." he rasped. He drew himself up and turned from her.

The motion wrenched her heart more painfully than if someone had plucked it beating from her breast. She felt first the onset of rejection. The deep, burning hurt flared out from the center of her soul. She could not believe that he could so cruelly dismiss her most precious gift. Then slowly the anger began. Its tendrils crept seething into her heart. When Dominic turned back to her, he found a different Maurette. Her eyes had hardened to purple flint, her lips were a grim line, and her pale face was whiter than before.

"Mine is the regret," he said very softly.

"Yes," Maurette hissed. She could not stop the wrathful tears that popped into her widened eyes. "Yours the regret, sir." She twisted on the ground and pulled herself up, drawing up the neckline of her gown and snatching her cloak from the floor of the world. Hot shame engulfed her as she realized what had almost come to pass. She had nearly given herself to the loathsome Warbrooke.

"You are the most vile of creatures," she spat. "You would dare to take me in the garden of my father's house, without love, like a dog in the night. You dared to seduce me, to make me declare love that is not returned. Were I a man, I would rip out your detestable heart. But I am a woman, and so I must suffer your physical well-being. Know this, however. There is a woman who walks this earth with hatred ion her heart for you. Know that if ever the opportunity is hers, she will be avenged for what you have done to her this night. Yes," Maurette finished, her voice a low growl. "yours the regret." She turned and ran up the path and into the house.

Once securely shrouded behind the hangings of her bed, Maurette sobbed out all the horrible, piercing torment torturing her agonized heart. She had known that she must protect herself from the villainous beast. She had known that, if she allowed her woman's heart to soften toward him, she would have no defense. She had known all this and had resolved before witnesses to fight against his virile invasion, and yet, in the face of his masculine aggression, she had allowed herself to weaken.

Her misery was replaced in the night by a wretchedness that she believed she could not bear. Self-loathing was all. Maurette convinced herself that she was most feeble-hearted, irresolute of woman. She deserved to be bullied, dictated to, and terrorized by a man. Humiliation enflamed her.

As the fire of shame threatened to engulf her, however, it was suddenly doused by an icy anger. It was the most terrible anger she had ever known. She was not to blame for Warbrooke's rejection of her. Nay! She had acknowledged an honest emotion. That the cold-hearted brute could not accept such a profound sentiment was no fault of her. He was the dog, prowling in the night, having his way with any willing bitch. Maurette was no beast. She was a human being. She was above such vulgarity. Leave him to his diversions. She would not be part of them.

A horrifying thought thundered into her brain. It caused her to sit bolt upright on her bed. Her eyes widened in a rage of wild supposition. What if, after all that had transpired, the loathsome Warbrooke still demanded her compliance with the contract? She pounded her bed in denial of such a terrible possibility.

"No! No! No!" she shrieked.

Her lamentations were heard into the night by the two older women, who sipped at pints of ale in a nearby chamber. Both knew, too well, that they could neither soften nor abbreviate Maurette's suffering. It must go its course, they had decided, and only waited throughout the long, awful night for the grief to end. They waited, too, for the demand for retribution that would take its place.