“Damned pup, always hanging after you. I want us to be alone.”
“We certainly won't be alone in the dining hall.”
“Dining hall?” he scoffed. “We'll take supper in your rooms, where we won't be disturbed.”
“We could very easily be disturbed. You forget that I am lady-in-waiting to Frances, and she may need me.”
“Hell's teeth, don't be so naive,” he said, thoroughly amused. “When you are with me, Frances wouldn't dream of disturbing us. I'll order us some supper and join you upstairs shortly.”
“You know where my rooms are?” Bess asked, mildly surprised.
“I should; I selected them for you.”
As Bess watched him stride away down the Long Gallery, his words floated about her. Then she remembered Lady Frances's words from this morning: I'll make sure you are not disturbed when you entertain a lover. A suspicion came full-blown into her mind. The pair of them were in collusion. She had been brought to Suffolk House at Cavendish's bidding. Purely for the rogue's convenience! Blazing anger almost consumed her.
As Bess paced about her chambers, she practiced the things she would say to him. Tonight would be the showdown. Tonight she would take her revenge for the hurt he had inflicted on her two long years ago. He was nothing but a rake who was still plotting her seduction. Well, tonight was the night that Sir Bloody William would meet his match!
Bess went down on her knees before her trunk and searched its contents until she found the infamous letter he had sent her. She stuffed the two halves into the bosom of her new gown, arming herself for the battle that was to come. When a low knock came, she flew to the door and flung it wide. “You scurvy bastard!”
The tall footman holding the heavy tray begged her pardon. The pageboy carrying the flagon of wine gave her an impish grin. “Put them over there,” she ordered loftily, refusing to show the slightest chagrin. Cavendish arrived before the servants departed, which prevented Bess from hurling a passionate curse at his head.
She watched in utter amazement as he coolly closed the door and turned the key in the lock. “You look magnificent tonight, my beauty.”
“No doubt that's because I'm in a towering rage,” she said silkily.
“No doubt.” His dark eyes filled with amusement, and her temper flared higher because he looked so devilishly pleased with himself.
“Tell me, Sir William, just when was it that you and Lady Frances decided I would become your mistress? I don't recall being consulted in the matter.”
“Damn it, Bess, I'm trying to court you. I couldn't run round to the Zouches' and woo you under Margaret's long, prudish nose.”
“But Frances won't blink an eye at your lechery. How very convenient for you. Perhaps she's always allowed you to bring your whores to Suffolk House?”
“Bess, stop this! You know damned well I don't want you for my whore.”
“That, sir, is a barefaced lie! If I agreed you'd make me your whore this very night. You are not free to make me your wife, so whore it must be!”
“Bess, there's a world of difference between a mistress and a whore, as well you know.”
Bess was on the verge of tears. Never once had he told her he loved her, never once had he told her he wanted her for his wife. She allowed her temper to explode. It was the only thing that kept her tears at bay. “There's no difference! Both accept payment for sexual favors! You have compromised me by bringing me to Suffolk House. Damn you! Damn you! I refuse to stay here under these circumstances!”
“Bess, stop being ridiculous; you know you're better off here at Suffolk House.”
Though Bess knew it very well, she raved on at him, cataloguing all her grievances against him. Rogue masked the amusement in his eyes and allowed her to get it all out of her system. She stormed on, her hands on her hips, tossing her flaming hair.
When she began to pant from her exertions, it aroused a towering lust in him. Truly, she was the most beautiful, passionate creature he had ever seen. He was mesmerized, watching her work herself up to a climax. She didn't know it, but she needed a damned good fucking.
Rogue pulled her gently into his arms and brushed the damp hair from her temples. “Are you finished, sweetheart?”
She was breathless. “I've barely started!”
He tightened his arms so that her breasts were crushed against his hard chest. “I have a present for you.” He reached into his doublet and took out a flat velvet jewel case. Then he heard the crackle of parchment inside her gown. “What's that?”
“It's the last present you gave me, you knave!”
When he quirked an eyebrow, she reached down between her breasts, pulled out the torn letter, and thrust it at him. “Rogue Cavendish, once upon a time I trusted you completely. When the entire world was against me, I wrote to you, begging for your help. I put my entire faith in you, and you let me down. When I got your letter, I couldn't believe it. I wanted to die!” Tears flooded her eyes in spite of her resolve.
He took the letter and read the words he had penned. “What did you do?”