The Bartered Bride by Mary Jo Putney
Cheeks flushed, Alex said, “I’m willing to risk that.”
“Brave of you,” he retorted. “But what of Suryo? He is the one putting his life on the line in those taverns. How will you feel if he’s killed for being too inquisitive?”
Her dismayed face showed she hadn’t thought of that. “I’m sure he understands the dangers better than I. He also has other informants, so he’s not alone.”
“The more people involved, the more likely your secret network will be exposed,” Gavin said with exasperation. “Informers are usually happy to take money from more than one source.”
“Very well, there are risks, but isn’t fighting slavery worth a risk? There is evil being done, and to ignore it is cowardly and despicable.”
“Success can be bitter,” he said grimly. “Did you know that slavers in danger of being overtaken will throw their captives overboard so the captain can’t be charged with illegal trafficking? Hundreds of men die when that happens.”
She gasped with horror. “All the more reason to destroy the slavers so they won’t dare capture innocent people and sell them across the ocean!”
He bit back an urge to swear at her stubborn refusal to see reason. “I understand that this is personal to you, but…”
Before he could finish, she spat out, “How dare you think you can understand what it is like to be helpless! You are the master of control—you’ve never been helpless in your life. Do you ‘understand’ what it’s like to be a woman and know you can’t safely walk on a public street without fear of being assaulted and raped? Or what it is like to know you have absolutely no hope of escape, short of death?”
Her rage rocked him back. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I can’t fully understand no matter how much I try. I’ll never know what it was like to be you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I can demonstrate.”
He hesitated before deciding that if she was this angry, he really must try harder to understand. “Please do.”
She pointed to the lion-footed oak armchair. “Sit!”
Gavin sat, wondering uneasily what she had in mind.
She pulled a handful of neatly folded handkerchiefs from the small drawer where they were stored, and used them to lash his wrists and ankles to the chair. Stepping back to survey her handiwork, she asked, “Does this give you some idea what it’s like to be helpless?”
“It certainly does.” He tugged at his bonds. With time he could probably work his way loose, but at the moment he was immobilized, unable to move his arms and legs, and anchored by the weight of the massive chair. It was not a comfortable feeling. “I’ve faced a dragon, but I’ve never been rendered helpless before a predatory lioness—which you’re imitating rather well. You tie good knots.”
“Suryo taught Katie and me on the voyage home.”
If these were Suryo’s knots, Gavin was well and truly trapped. He clamped down on an instinctive desire to struggle against his bonds. “Care to untie me now that you’ve proved your point?”
“Not yet.” Her eyes glittered with edgy amusement. “That’s part of being helpless—you can’t just say that you’ve had enough and be free.”
He watched her warily, wondering how far she’d push the game. He didn’t think she’d physically injure him, but she was in a chancy mood. If that anger exploded out of control…
She leaned back against his desk and studied him critically. “Being tied to a chair barely scratches the surface of real helplessness. Imagine that you are thousands of miles away, in a strange country whose language you don’t speak, presumed dead by everyone who loves you, treated as a thing by those who claim to own you.” She picked up Sultan Kasan’s jeweled kris, which Gavin used to open letters. “Then imagine your situation is real, not a mere exercise in attempted understanding.”
He kept his eye on the weapon as she idly tested the blade. “Planning to punish me for the sins of all men?”
Some of the anger faded from her face. “I could never harm you, Gavin. But I must admit to a certain dark satisfaction in knowing you’re uncertain what I am capable of.” With a practiced snap of her wrist, she hurled the dagger across the room to stab into the doorframe, hilt quivering. “Make no mistake, for the time being you are at my mercy.”
He stared at the dagger. “Where the devil did you learn to do that?”
“I spent half my childhood in army camps. You’d be amazed what bored soldiers will teach a little girl. Did I ever mention that I’m an excellent shot? If I’d had a good repeating rifle, I could have driven off the Malay pirates myself.”
His skin was beginning to crawl. Knowing that was her intention wasn’t much comfort. “Now what? Will you ravish me to demonstrate what that’s like? I don’t think that could possibly be as devastating as what you’ve endured.”
His words fell like a spark struck into tinder. Alex’s anger, frustration, and the suppressed sexual tension pulsing between them blazed into furious life. For the first time, Gavin was in a position where she didn’t have to trust his good will. The fact that he was trustworthy was beside the point—she had always been aware of his strength, and what he could do if he chose.
But now she had this beautiful man entirely at her mercy. The sense of power was heady and deeply erotic. “You think not? Then I will take it as a challenge to see if I can devastate you.”
“Do your worst,” he said, his gaze steady.
To find devastation, she must plumb the depths of passion and fear. She unfastened the hooks that attached her demure, high-necked bodice to her skirt, then removed the garment to reveal her quilted corset and embroidered shift. “Being a gentleman, you usually try not to stare at my breasts, though you don’t always succeed. Now you can look all you like, but you can’t touch unless I allow it.”
She kicked off her shoes, then rested her right foot on a chair and raised her petticoats to reveal her stocking and garter. “It’s too warm an evening for stockings.”
The garter was white ribbon with a tiny pink silk rose sewn on one side. She untied the ribbon and let the silky strip slither to the floor while she rubbed above her knee to restore circulation. Knowing his gaze was riveted to her leg made her feel deliciously wanton. She peeled off the stocking with sensual slowness, then repeated her performance with the other garter and stocking.
“You have lovely legs.” Gavin’s voice sounded constricted.
“Thank you. My hair is rather nice, too.” She pulled out the pins and languidly shook the dark waves over her shoulders. Then she stripped a handful of petals from the vase of flowers on his desk, and tossed them over him in a fragrant shower. Petals drifted down to settle on his shoulders and lap. “I like you helpless. The knowledge that I can do with you as I will is rather exciting.”
“I’m finding it…educational.”
Her corset hooked up the front. She unfastened the top hooks to release her breasts from confinement, then swayed across the room to Gavin. Desire radiated from him, along with profound uneasiness. She felt voluptuous and powerful.
“It’s time to let you touch, but only what and when I allow.” She braced her hands on his bound wrists and leaned forward. Her breasts spilled out in front of him, just out of his reach. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her bare skin as his hands clenched and unclenched on the chair arms.
She bent to trace the curve of his ear with her tongue. When he turned his head to kiss her she evaded his lips, preferring to trail her mouth over his warm, salt-tinged skin. This late in the day his face wore a faint bristle of blond whiskers, unseen but felt as a provocative, masculine texture.
Impatiently he rubbed the lacy edge of her shift away with his cheek, baring her left nipple. When his mouth closed over it, heat blazed through her. She caught her breath, feeling that she was St. Elmo’s fire, ablaze in the night. Her other breast tingled with longing—and to satisfy that, she must take the initiative. The choice was hers. All the choices were hers.
When she shifted
Needing to return pleasure, she removed his cravat and unbuttoned his shirt so she could caress the warm, bare skin of his chest. Hard muscles tensed at her touch. She moved her hands in circles, rolling his nipples between thumbs and forefingers. They hardened instantly.
“Merciful heaven, Alex…!” He sucked in his breath, shivering all over. “It’s hellish not to be able to touch you.”
“While I can touch you anywhere I want.” Pleased to see his control cracking, she removed her hands from under his shirt and began kneading his thighs, avoiding the hard ridge of male flesh that strained against his trousers. He twisted back and forth, pulling involuntarily against his bonds as if on the verge of jumping out of his skin.
She captured his mouth, falling into the kiss as if it would last forever. He responded greedily, his passion and hunger stirring her to fever heat. Blindly she unbuttoned his trousers and released him into her hand. She had to force herself not to bring him to swift culmination. She wasn’t ready for this to end.
Climbing onto his lap, she slipped her legs under the high, lion-carved arms so that she straddled him with carnal abandon. Then she adjusted her skirts to cascade around them—and stiffened at the realization that her open-seam drawers meant they were pressed together with an intimacy just short of intercourse.
The throbbing of his blood echoed through her, fueling an urgency that swamped her momentary alarm. She rocked forward, the heated slickness of her most private parts gliding along the hard length of his arousal.
He broke the kiss, groaning a curse under his breath. “Untie the scarves, Iskandra, I promise I’ll use my hands well.”
“No.” Giddily she ground into him. Iskandra was the feminine of Iskander, who had been Alexander the Conqueror. Now she was a conqueror, a woman warrior, and that knowledge released sensuality that had been too long frozen.
He thrust his hips upward, moving against her as much as he could manage while bound. “You will kill me with craving,” he breathed.
She raised herself high enough to reach down and take hold of him. Then she lowered herself onto that glorious masculine hardness, whimpering at how perfectly they fit together. This mating was right, searing away the shadows of their vile forced intercourse in Maduri.
She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his neck as she rolled her hips fiercely. The angle, the pressure and friction, were scorchingly intense, different from anything she’d ever known. She was on the verge of shattering—and then she did, crying out as she drowned in frantic waves of sensation.
Instinctively she tightened around him as her whole body went rigid. He gave a long, drawn-out groan as if his soul and body were being wrenched asunder.
Gulping for breath, she clung to him, a little dazed, feeling every heartbeat as the hammering gradually slowed. “I feel as if one of the devil storms of the Pacific has battered over me. And I’ve barely survived.”
“You achieved your goal of achieving devastation,” Gavin said unsteadily. “I wish I could hold you to protect you from the storm.”
Face burning, she yanked the end of one handkerchief to release his left wrist, then did the same for the right. His arms enfolded her in warmth and security. She rested her head on his shoulder, her face turned away from him as she gave thanks that he didn’t hate her for her crazy, ugly behavior. “I feel ashamed. As if I’ve just suffered an attack of madness.”
“Passion is a form of madness. In your case, driven by fury over all you’ve suffered.” His embrace tightened. “I’m glad you chose this form of rage rather than using the knife on me.”
She shuddered at the thought, but knew he was right about her rage. Some of that, she saw now, had been directed at him. Absurd, when she’d insisted he “worship the goddess” in her during the Lion Game. Yet a deep, primitive part of her had hated him for violating her, and her anger was all the more bitter because she knew she had no right to it. “It’s true about the anger, but it was wrong for me to take it out on you. I found it very…disturbing.”
“So did I, but I now have at least some inkling of what it is like to be helpless,” he said thoughtfully. “You called me the master of control. Perhaps it’s good that you smashed that control into splinters.”
She groaned. “Perhaps, but I’m still sorry, Gavin. I don’t much like myself at the moment.”
“Hush, my dear Iskandra.” He cradled the back of her head in one large hand, soothing her jangled nerves. “Though the experience was unsettling, you managed to accomplish what had been impossible before now.”
Only then did she fully register that they’d finally consummated their marriage, though that was a tame term for such a mad, perverse coupling. Finally, irrevocably, they were husband and wife. The satisfaction of that banished most of her shamed regret. “I don’t want to tie you up again, but I do like this chair. Sitting like this was…different. Exciting. I’d like to try it again.”
He laughed, tousled and almost unbearably handsome. “I’ll buy a whole set of these chairs so we can have them all over the house and office.”
“Actually, there is a second chair like this at the house, but it’s in a guest room.” She smiled naughtily. “I’ll have it moved into my bedroom.”
His expression turned serious. “Could that become our bedroom?”
She hesitated while she studied the darker corners of her mind. “I believe it can. I feel as if a mental wall has come tumbling down. There may be a few loose stones lying around still, but the worst is over.”
“I’m so glad. I enjoy sharing a bed with you. Having you near.” He smiled. “And I’m also very glad that you decided to work in this office.”
That brought her back to a sense of her surroundings. Evening had darkened to night, and they would be very late to dinner. She climbed off his lap with some difficulty. Straddling him was easier than untangling herself without tripping, but he steadied her with one hand.
As she knelt to release his ankles, she said, “This is all so absurd. Right here in your office!” She glanced out at the night sky again, glad there were no buildings placed so that people could look in.
He stood and stretched his limbs gingerly. “Passion is absurd, just as it can be mad. It is also one of the greatest joys we can receive.” He took her hand and drew her to her feet, then bent into a kiss of deep tenderness.
She relaxed into him, unafraid. “I should never have accused you of not understanding,” she whispered. “You understand more than any man I’ve ever known.”
Chapter 30
BY THE time they had straightened themselves to a semblance of respectability, it was full dark. Gavin was glad for his lantern, for he’d never seen the street so quiet as when they left the warehouse to walk to a livery stable on the nearby Ratcliff Highway, where a Seabourne carriage waited to take them home.
The privacy meant he could keep an arm around Alex, though the way he felt tonight, he might have anyhow. Despite the harrowing aspects of their sexual encounter, they were both playful and giddy, scarcely able to keep their hands off each other. He was already looking forward to bedtime. At the very least, he’d be able to hold her all night. And maybe they’d test if that wall in her mind really had come tumbling down….
She slid her arm around his waist. “What are you chuckling about?”
He kissed her temple. “I am thinking wicked thoughts.”
In the dim light, he saw her blushing. She looked adorably disheveled. He kissed her again, glad that he’d been right about the inherent passion of her nature. He looked forward to a lifetime of mutual exploration.
Several sailors emerged from an alley ahead with the unsteady gaits of men going back to their ship after drinking at a waterfront tavern. Gavin kept an eye on them, steering Alex closer to the buildings on their side of the street, but his caution was merely habit. Though the dangerous East End slums weren’t far away, t
The sailors were opposite when the man in the lead suddenly swung around, a knife in his hand and his expression dangerously sober as he slashed at Gavin. “He’s the one!”
Instinctively Gavin pushed Alex behind him while dodging the knife and the assault of another man. Dropping the lantern so he had both hands free, he grabbed his assailant’s arm and wrenched it from its socket. The man was screaming with agony as Gavin hurled him against his fellows.
The ultimate test of pentjak silat was fighting one against many. Trained reflexes took over, and Gavin closed fast and hard with the next man, snapping his neck before he whirled and smashed a third attacker’s leg with a brutal kick. Under his cool, lethal movements was rage that such an attack should be made when Alex was with him.
She shouted, “Gavin, behind you!”
He spun around, wishing he was carrying a kris or cane. Using his left hand to block the descending knife, he lunged into a grappling hold and threw his opponent into a brick wall. The man hit with an audible cracking of bone. Beyond, Alex backed against the wall as a wiry, weasel-faced man with a knife approached her. Gavin was about to spring to her aid when she kicked her attacker in the groin, then stamped on his knife hand when he fell to the street, howling with pain.
“Hey, there!” An authoritative shout was followed by the raucous clatter of a police rattle. The distinctive tophatted silhouette of a constable appeared at the intersection ahead, his swaying lantern casting grotesque shadows.
“Peeler’s coming!” Shouting the warning, one of the attackers bolted for the alley. Two others followed, both stumbling badly from their injuries. The constable pursued them, shouting orders to stop.
“Alex.” Shaking with reaction, Gavin moved toward her, dimly aware that his left forearm was stinging. “Are you all right?”