The word reverberated in his mind, shaking him to the core. He could offer her pleasure and all the different ways of seeking and finding it. She’d already spoken of him as her teacher, hadn’t she? In his younger days, before Vanessa, he’d been utterly enamored with women and he’d gained a great deal of knowledge. Just because he’d been a monk since Vanessa died didn’t mean he’d forgotten those lessons. Oh, he may be a little rusty, but it would soon return to him.
The real question was whether he could control himself, whether he could prevent himself from unleashing all his pent-up passion on Miss Marissa Rotherhild, taking her virginity, and catapulting himself and her into forced wedlock. After what they’d done so far, deflowering her was perhaps a technicality, but to Valentine it was the point beyond which he must not go.
“I can show you how to find more pleasure,” he said at last.
“Valentine, what do you mean?” she said, looking up, her eyes questioning.
“Let me be your mentor, your teacher. If you really want to live a Bohemian life then let me show you how.”
She seemed to be considering his offer. “No attachments? I will not hold you to such a proposal if at any time you wish to stop, and you will not try to keep me by your side if I decide to go?”
Somehow he managed an indifferent shrug, although the voice inside his head was screaming at him to tell her he had no intention of allowing her to go off and place herself in the power of any other man but himself, and how could she even ask it of him.
She took his shrug as an affirmative. After a moment she nodded briskly. “Very well, Valentine.” She held out her hand toward him, and he grasped her fingers, holding them swallowed within his far bigger hand. She felt small and fragile, something to be protected, but Valentine knew Marissa Rotherhild did not consider herself either small or fragile, and she was certainly very much used to looking after herself.
“One more thing,” he said. “You must remain at Abbey Thorne Manor for the time being and join me in my search for the Crusader’s Rose.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“Come, Marissa, you will enjoy it,” he assured her.
“Very well. I will stay and help you. For now.”
They began to pack up the picnic and put things away. The sun was still warm but it was definitely sinking lower in the sky. Time to return to Abbey Thorne Manor. Valentine wondered what Marissa expected from him now. He would have to give his next move some thought. He’d promised to give her pleasure so he must give her pleasure, and in a way that would keep her by his side.
Chapter 15
George finished his ale with a sigh of contentment, looking around the smoky little room of the tavern. It was crowded with bare-knuckle boxing enthusiasts like himself, and they were all enjoying discussing the fights they’d seen on Magna Midcombe green today.
Unfortunately the Dorking Destroyer had been knocked out after fifteen minutes and refused to rejoin the fray, but it didn’t matter in the end. They had a new hero, and George had been the first to raise his tankard to the Midcombe Mauler.
Now he looked into the bottom of his tankard and hesitated. Did he have time for another before he set off for home, or should he go before it began to grow dark? Surely he’d still reach Abbey Thorne Manor before the long summer evening turned to night even if he lingered another ten minutes?
George was just getting to his feet when he saw someone he recognized moving toward the doorway.
At first he doubted his own eyes, because what would Baron Von Hautt be doing here in the Magna Midcombe tavern? He must be mistaken. But as the man reached the doorway he turned and looked straight at George, and he knew with a chill in his blood that he wasn’t mistaken. The gray hair and youthful face, those icy blue eyes. It was Von Hautt all right.
He stumbled to his feet, almost knocking over his chair, apologizing as he shoved through the crowd in pursuit of the Prussian. It didn’t occur to him to wonder why Von Hautt would be showing himself like this. He felt no sense of anxiety or danger, only an urgent need not to allow the man to escape him.
George reached the door and burst out into the warm, calm evening. He stood, taking gulps of air, trying to clear his head. The village street was empty…or was it? Something caught his eye and he turned just in time to see Von Hautt vanishing around a corner. With a grin of triumph, George hurried after him.
Had Von Hautt come to Magna Midcombe to find what remained of the Fortescues? Well, he was going to have to explain himself to George. Maybe, George thought, he could capture the Prussian and take him back to Abbey Thorne Manor and hand him over to Valentine and Jasper. Wouldn’t that make their eyes pop!
He turned the corner, full of confidence, and his heart leaped into his throat. Von Hautt was standing right in front of him, a big grin on his face.
“Ah, it is the little brother,” he said cheerfully. “How are you, little brother George?”
George stopped himself from taking a step back—just. “What do you want?” he said, in his best imitation of Valentine’s growl. “What are you doing following us about?”
Von Hautt didn’t bother to answer. His strange pale eyes were searching George’s face, and then he shook his head in mock despair. “You have been drinking,” he said. “The only way to find the Crusader’s Rose is to reject all such crass temptations. Your brother knows that. You should ask him what he has given up in his quest for the prize.”
“You know nothing about my brother!” George shouted, but the chill in his blood was back again. This man was dangerous and all of a sudden he was wondering why he’d followed him out here. Alone.
“I know a great deal about your brother,” Von Hautt said in a voice as cold as snow.
“Then you’ll know he doesn’t want you following him around and shooting his friends,” George retorted.
“His friend deserved to be shot.” He dismissed the incident.