‘Oh, Drew, I did not know, I never dreamed—’
He laughed softly and kissed her again. He could not remember the last time a woman had affected him like this. His arms tightened as he was suddenly overwhelmed by his emotions, not only desire but a fierce instinct to love and protect Elyse for the rest of his days. He held her close, knowing that in a few moments he would be able to rouse her again and this time he would take her. He would make her his own. By heaven he would make her his wife.
She is not yours and never can be!
The voice in his head was loud and full of reproof, bringing him back to reality with a jolt. What right had he to entice her away from her fiancé when he had nothing to offer her? If he made her his wife she would be condemned to wander through Europe with him. Or he might set her up in a house here in England, as Harry had done with her mother, but then their children—a surge of longing ripped through him at the thought of Elyse having his child!—their children would have no more memories of their father than she had of Harry. But that was not the worst of it. Harry had been an adventurer: Drew was charged with a much more despicable offence. He was branded a traitor and any woman who allied herself to him would be reviled, an outcast.
Only for an instant had he considered moving to some quiet corner of the country and setting up home under an assumed name. Bad enough for him to be constantly looking over his shoulder. He could not inflict that upon Elyse, too. And in the fleeting time it took for these thoughts to flash through his mind, Drew knew he could not condemn Elyse to such a life. He must stop. Now.
Summoning every ounce of will-power he forced himself to roll away from her, forced his hard, aroused body back under control.
‘Drew?’
He heard the uncertainty in her voice and almost flinched when she touched his shoulder. His arm had begun to ache. He would be well served if it started to bleed again. A demon whispered to him to take her and to hell with the consequences. After all, she was willing.
Willing, yes, but innocent. It was up to him to protect her from a lifetime of regret.
Keeping his back to her he said politely, ‘I am glad I pleased you, ma’am. You have some notion now of the happiness to be found in your husband’s arms.’
‘I—I do not understand you.’
‘You were concerned Reverson would be disappointed in you.’ He closed his eyes, he must speak coolly, rationally. ‘We have just shown that your nature is passionate enough for any man.’
Her sigh nearly broke his resolve.
‘I do not want any other man, not now. Drew—’
He jumped up and went to stand between the columns, leaning against one in what he hoped looked like a nonchalant fashion. He dare not turn and face her. Not yet.
‘Do not be tiresome, Elyse. You know there can never be anything between us. You are going to marry William Reverson and I shall return to the Continent.’
‘But I am not sure I want to marry William.’
‘You think there may be some reluctance upon his family’s part to accept you?’ he said, wilfully misunderstanding her. ‘As your guardian I shall discuss the matter thoroughly with Lord Whittlewood and do everything in my power to ensure your happiness before I consign you to his care.’
‘Is that what it is?’ He heard the hopeful note in her voice. ‘You think that as my guardian you should not be here with me? Tomorrow is Michaelmas. After that your guardianship is over.’
‘Yes, thank heaven, and I can resume my life.’ He gazed out over the wild and neglected garden, thinking it looked as bleak and unwelcoming as the existence he envisaged for himself. For an instant he weakened, needing to explain. ‘I am not free to settle down. I must travel constantly. It is not a life that would suit you, my dear.’
‘What you mean is that it would not suit you to make me a part of it.’
‘If you prefer to phrase it in that way.’ He infused a note of boredom into his voice.
‘I am not asking you to l-love me in return—’
Dear heaven, he could not bear much more of this. He turned, bracing himself to face her.
‘Of course not. Absurd.’ He kept on, inexorably cutting a chasm between them, too deep to cross. ‘There is no knowing how soon I should be bored with you. There have been many women in my life, Elyse. As Harry’s daughter you are very special, of course, but…’
‘But not special enough.’
Dear heaven, if only she knew!
‘I told you once before, my dear, you should never trust a rake.’
She was staring at him, tears coursing down her cheeks and Drew looked away, unable to bear the sadness in her eyes. It reproached him, but not as much as he reproached himself for letting it go this far. He concentrated on brushing the dust from his breeches as he said with studied indifference,
‘Be thankful I left you a virgin. The delight of changing that state is something you can share with your husband.’
Almost before he had finished Elyse gave a low, shuddering sob and fled.
Chapter Eight
Drew did not move until the sound of her footsteps on the gravel had died away and stillness had fallen over the garden again. He swayed a little and put his good hand against the nearest column to steady himself. His arm was hurting like the devil but it was nothing to the pain he felt inside. With a growl he turned and banged his fist against the column.
‘Oh, Harry why did I let you talk me into this?’
Only silence answered him. He waited a few more minutes and then made his way slowly back to the house. Tomorrow his guardianship would come to an end. He would escort Elyse to Bath and if he judged the viscount to be an honourable man he would put her into his care, if not he would hire a post-chaise and pack her off back to her aunt in Scarborough. Either way he would not see Elyse Salforde again.
After striding around the gardens while he cleared his head and regained some measure of control, Drew made his way back to the house. As he reached the terrace he heard someone call his name and turned to see Jed hurrying around the side of the house towards him
‘Master Drew, Sir Edward was looking for you, sir. He is in his study and said to send you to him as soon as you could be found.’
‘Very well, Jed. I will go to him directly.’
Drew’s spirits sank even lower as he made his way through the house. What was it now? Did his father want to ring another peal over him? Possibly for disturbing his peace last night. Squaring his shoulders he knocked on the study door and went in. Sir Edward was working at his desk but he rose as Drew entered. His brows were knitted and the frowning look in his eyes did not augur well. Drew’s nerves, already raw, stretched to breaking point. He said tersely,
‘If you sent for me to enquire how much longer you must endure my company, I told you last night. We leave here in the morning. It was Miss Salforde who insisted we must wait for one more day. If it had been left to me I would have quit Hartcombe by now.’
‘There is nothing wrong with my memory, damn you. I am well aware of your plans. I wanted to see you.’ Sir Edward broke off as if startled by his choice of words. He went to the fire and added another log to the flames. ‘There is something I need to tell you.’ He straightened and turned back, saying testily, ‘Don’t stand there glowering at me, boy, sit down. But before you do you may pour us both a glass of claret. We may need it before this is finished.’
Drew wondered if he had heard these last, mumbled words correctly but he said nothing, merely walked to the sideboard where a decanter and glasses stood in readiness. He filled two glasses and carried them back across the room.
‘Well?’
Drew handed one glass to his father and lowered himself into a chair. For a moment Sir Edward hesitated and half-turned, as if considering returning to his desk. Then with a sigh he sat down opposite Drew, sipping his wine and watching him over the rim of his glass.
‘You have grown a great deal since I last saw you.’
This was so unexpected Drew almost laughed.
‘I was fifteen when I left Hartcombe. A boy. Now I am six-and-twenty.’
‘And just as hot-headed.’
Drew shook off the sudden spurt of irritation.
‘Believe me, sir, I am not the reckless, impetuous youth who left here over ten years ago. That is something else I told you last night. I very much regret what I did.’
‘And I regret that I did not come to fetch you home as soon as I heard the Pretender was in Scotland.’
This admission surprised Drew and he could not think of a suitable reply. Silence fell over the room.
‘It was madness,’ said Sir Edward at last, ‘to throw your lot in with the Stuart.’
‘I did not follow him to Paris. I wrote to tell you—’
‘I burned your letters.’ Sir Edward interrupted him. ‘Never read them. I gave orders that your name was never to be mentioned again in this house. You were no longer a son of mine. I cut you out of my will.’
‘I was amply punished, then, for my folly.’
Sir Edward continued as if he had not spoken.
‘But I could not remove you from the entail. Now Simon is dead you will inherit Hartcombe when I die.’
‘Ha, much good it will do me, since I cannot return to England under my own name.’
‘That is not true.’
‘Of course it is,’ Drew retorted bitterly. ‘Have you forgotten that I am traitor with a price on my head?’