Only With Your Love (Vallerands #2)(27)

No apologies, not even a pretense of concern for how she might feel this morning. Celia was torn between self-pity and outrage. He was nothing but an insensitive brute!

“You’ve lost nothing,” he said, reading the anger in her eyes. “No one will ever suspect it wasn’t Philippe who bedded you.”

“My worry is not what I have lost,” she said sharply.

Griffin looked at her questioningly.

Celia’s forehead was wreathed in a frown. “I am speaking of consequences, monsieur, something I am certain you never pause to consider. What if I conceive a child as a result of what happened between us?”

Although Griffin’s face registered no emotion, inwardly he was startled. She was correct—he had never bothered to consider the possibility before. After all, the kind of women he visited all possessed remedies to prevent or take care of unwanted pregnancies. But a well-bred French Catholic girl would not be versed in such matters. “It is a possibility,” he said. “Not a likely one. But if it does happen we’ll deal with it then.”

“You will not know,” Celia replied, her tone filled with hatred. “You will not be there to find out.”

“I’ll know,” he said curtly.

“How? Do you know someone in New Orleans who would tell you such things?” When he did not answer, Celia felt a burst of rage inside. “Why must everything be a mystery? What am I to you, and what do you want from the Vallerand family? Are you really taking me to them, or do you plan to hold me for ransom?” At his continuing silence, she whirled away in disgust, turning her rigid back to him. “Vraiment, it does not matter to me anymore. I don’t care where I go or what happens. I just want this all to end!” A mosquito settled on her arm, rubbing its tiny feelers in anticipation. She swatted it away angrily. “I hate insects, and I hate swamps! I wish to be as far away from you as possible! I want some real food, a-and a bath, and clean clothes. I want a soft bed to sleep in, and…” her voice rose plaintively, “most of all I want a hairbrush!”

Griffin’s lips twitched in amusement. Her display of temper this morning was reassuring, a sign that her spirit hadn’t been broken. He moved behind her, knowing from her intake of breath that she was aware of his nearness. He picked up a lock of tangled hair from her shoulder and looked at it appraisingly. “It could use a good brushing,” he agreed.

She still faced away from him. “Do not make jest of me!”

“I’ll buy you a shipload of hairbrushes.”

“To atone for last night?”

He laughed softly. “Would that satisfy you?”

“There is nothing you could give me that would begin to atone for what you’ve done to me.”

“Apparently you have no idea of what I have to offer.”

“Shiploads of stolen bounty?” she asked. “Merci, non.”

She stepped away from him, but he followed and turned her around, holding her shoulders in his hands. “That and a great deal more,” he murmured. “I don’t have to take you to the Vallerands. I could make other arrangements.” His grip tightened as she tried to pull away. “Be still. I never have the opportunity to hold a lady of quality in my arms. I may as well enjoy it while I can. You’re an intriguing woman, Celia. I wouldn’t tire of you easily. And in spite of what you claim, the satisfaction wasn’t all mine last night.”

“What are you saying?” she demanded, squirming in his grasp.

“I’m pointing out that things could be quite pleasant between us. Instead of going to the Vallerand family, you could let me take care of you.”

She went absolutely still. “What?”

He studied her with intent blue eyes, while a half-smile played on his lips. “I’d give you the choice of where we go. Anywhere in the world. There are more exotic and beautiful places than anyone could see in a lifetime. If you grew weary of traveling, I’d establish you in your own home, two or three if you like. You’d have money to spend on whatever you wish. The only thing I’d ask in return is that you never refuse me your bed.”

“And endure more nights like the last?” she asked, feeling more degraded with every word he spoke.

“I can promise you far more agreeable experiences in the future.”

“You are asking me to be your mistress,” she said in a choked voice.

“I believe so,” he said dryly.

She stared at him with wide eyes. “How could you think that would appeal to me? How could you suppose I would even consider it? All I have ever wanted is what all women want, a husband and children, and a quiet home—”

“Is that so? You wanted something else last night.”

Horrified, Celia recognized the truth of his words. There was another side of her, one she would have to suppress and guard against for the rest of her days. He had made her see that.

“You disgust me,” she said unsteadily.

He smiled as if her reaction was what he had expected.

“You took advantage of me,” she continued. “I would never have behaved in such a way had I not been so distraught about my husband. You cannot buy me as if I were a prostitute, you…you insolent monster! You’re dirty, unkempt, barbaric—and I find you revolting! I know exactly who you are and where you came from. You are a gutter rat, and you belong in the sewer!”