A Cinderella for the Viscount

by Liz Tyner

  He released her hand and walked to the butler’s entrance and even though the space grew between them, the expression on his face kept them close. ‘It was as if I’d only been born for that act of putting out the fire. That’s how I feel.’

  ‘So, now, do you join a monastery, or will you drink to the sunrise every morning?’

  A shrug. ‘Neither.’ He straightened his coat sleeve. ‘When I schooled you on how to act, it seemed I was teaching you that the things I’d always been most comfortable with were little more than a charade at life. Without either of us intending it, you are changing my life as well.’

  Then he raised his eyes to her and he smiled, a reflection of trust and admiration that could erase all the mistakes he’d ever made. ‘When I held you in my arms, I could feel your heart beat. With my entire body. I could feel every nuance of your skin. I didn’t know anyone could feel like silk and velvet and...’

  She knew what he meant when he said he’d seen her across the room and she’d captured his attention in a way no one else had. He’d faded everything else in the world.

  ‘Or perhaps I’m feeling the loneliness caused by all the years of thinking of myself first.’

  Silence flowed like soft music and the flickering light danced around them.

  ‘If you’ve spent your life thinking of yourself first, perhaps you need to get a dog.’ She remembered what her mother had said. ‘They’re faithful. And they don’t judge.’

  And much safer for her if he chose something besides her to shower his attentions on.

  ‘And you? Do you judge?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I’m surprised you let me in.’

  ‘I don’t judge harshly. Not among friends.’

  She moved to him. Soft. Easily. Unable to stop.

  ‘You might reconsider that.’ He touched her hair and leaned closer, his breath against her lips.

  ‘I have lived my whole life without taking risks and they found me. I think I should take a few of my own choosing,’ she said. ‘I’d like to take a gamble with you.’

  ‘That’s something else you might wish to reconsider.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  He saw the moment she took his words as rejection and he felt the pain as a direct hit to his abdomen.

  ‘Sweeting, no matter what happens, never feel rejected by me or anyone. If we do not choose to understand the beauty in you, it is our loss.’

  ‘Easy words to say.’

  He moved so close their lips almost touched and their breaths intermingled, unable to pull himself from her gaze and do the safe thing. Leave.

  He remembered the partings he’d initiated in his past. He’d have preferred them not to feel necessary.

  But he’d used his abilities of persuasion to soften the disappointment. And he’d given kind attentions as he’d distanced himself. The sweetness had melted their frowns and he’d discreetly made them aware they would soon have the chance to toss him a glare or a laugh in front of a new beau.

  He didn’t think Rachael could take a gentle goodbye easily. A few more years in society. A few more rakes to laugh with and maybe she would. But he didn’t want her hurt. Abandoned. Or fighting a battle alone.

  She should not be forced to make her way in the world without someone by her side. It wasn’t fair to her. Even a husband like Lord Johnstone would be of benefit to her. He could entrench her in society.

  He understood that he’d never had to scramble for a footing in society. Although, at boarding school, the boys had insisted he prove himself worthy of their camaraderie. He’d enjoyed the challenge.

  The test of matching wits had been a game. Matching strength and agility had been easy for him as well.

  Even the challenge of marriage hadn’t always daunted him.

  Rachael was someone he wanted as a friend for the rest of his life and her future husband might not accept them together so kindly if they’d had a liaison.

  His words were low. ‘You don’t understand what you’re risking. If things change between us, we will never be able to return to the innocence together we have now.’

  ‘I have already lost a lot of my innocence.’ She puffed out a breath of air that ruffled the wisp that had fallen in front of her eyes. ‘I’ve learned the multiplication tables.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t think it is entirely the same.’

  ‘I’m feeling stronger now than I’ve ever felt in my life, even though I’ve recently been—for all intents and purposes—jilted, injured and I’ve discovered my inheritance is little more than dust. I’m angry and it’s no time for me to tread lightly. When I did exactly as expected the results were near disastrous. I should experience life, because living cocooned hasn’t kept me from adversity.’

  ‘But you could have many more trials. Particularly if you were to take unmanageable chances. We cannot continue to meet secretly. Too much is at risk. Your financial future cannot have secrecy or whispers attached to it. You have to be above reproach.’

  ‘Yes. I will take care. But I’ve decided scars don’t hurt as much as I’d expected. They’re a part of living.’

  The dark walls surrounding them didn’t seem austere, but enveloping and secure.

  ‘It feels like you’re keeping a barrier between us. Like you’re pushing me, trying to get me to leave.’ Rachael wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on the crisp fabric of his coat.

  ‘I shouldn’t have visited tonight,’ he said.

  ‘I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t.’

  ‘I understand where our feelings are going, and it’s a slippery path I don’t want you to travel. Too much at stake.’ He pulled her free so their gazes could lock.

  ‘I’m willing to take it.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘It’s no hazard for you.’

  ‘Yes. It is. I don’t want to lose our friendship,’ he said. ‘And that you think this isn’t a serious step for you concerns me. I cannot take advantage of naive innocence.’

  Her fingers hid in the lapel on his coat. ‘Things have happened to me recently which changed the direction of my life. Both of them could have had disastrous results. Marriage or death. This time, I would like to choose my direction. Not be a victim of what is going on around me.’

  ‘You can’t tell in advance what cards will be tossed last on the table.

  ‘You’re acting as if, because I am a virgin, I’m not capable of deciding things for myself. Perhaps I need to be a little more jaded. If I had been a little more worldly, I might not have been happily, innocently, betrothed to a man who didn’t want me to call him by his first name.’

  ‘I don’t want to be your method of revenge.’

  She stilled, contemplating his words. ‘I don’t want revenge on him. If he deserves trouble, he’ll take care of it himself.’

  ‘I think he does by not marrying you.’

  She appreciated the supportive words and crossed her arms around herself, letting her emotions tumble out. ‘It’s a rough world and I’ll be better prepared if I’m stronger. I accepted things I shouldn’t have in the past. I questioned nothing. The sun will never rise on another day like that for me. I’m going on my own path now and if it fails, it fails. I take responsibility for that.’

  She unfolded her arms and stepped closer again. ‘I can’t stay innocent for ever. I can’t remain in the nursery of my parents’ home and watch the other children go out and play and taste life.’

  ‘Yes. You can. If I have anything to do with it.’

  ‘Innocence got me a suitor who couldn’t get rid of me fast enough when he discovered I might not have the fortune he wanted.’

  She studied him, trying to get beneath the distracting veneer and understand the person with the sincere smile which deflected so much. ‘You want to brush me aside like Tenney did.
’

  He took one step from her. ‘I don’t want to brush you aside like I did with all the others, or like I have been.’

  She stared beyond the distraction in front of her, forcing herself to respond. She made up her mind the direction she would choose and she’d deal with the consequences later. ‘You said you’ve always remained on friendly terms with the women in your life.’

  ‘But distant.’ The word seeped into the room with quiet finality.

  ‘You’re trying to keep me from being close to you now.’

  ‘Some would say it’s impossible to be close to me. The smiling veneer only goes into another smiling veneer, and you can’t find what isn’t there.’

  She walked to the mirror, touched the skin on her cheek and stared. ‘The two men I have cared for do not wish for me to touch them.’

  ‘That’s a lie.’ He stepped behind her. ‘Tenney may not have wanted you to touch him—’ his voice lowered to a gravelled whisper ‘—but I do. Since the first night I held you in my arms, I’ve wanted to hold you again.’

  He hesitated. ‘But we cannot continue to meet privately and expect it to remain secret. You would risk too much and I would risk nothing. It’s not fair to you.’

  He put his hand on her shoulders and his head dipped, resting against hers. The caress of his lips against her neck created a fiery yearning that pulled her against him.

  Raising his head and staring into the mirror, he clasped her wrist and caught it up so that her hand touched his face. His eyes closed and he inhaled.

  She turned, stepping into his arms. If strength had a scent, it surrounded her, wrapping her in a blanket bigger than any she’d ever find on a bed, clasping her with gentleness and swaddling her in wonder.

  ‘I want you to make love to me,’ she spoke softly, but sincerely. ‘I know it’s a risk, but my life seems full of hazards. And I would like to choose one of them.’

  ‘Then let me show you my home.’ The words whispered against her skin reached into her depths and transported her with the touch of his lips on hers.

  * * *

  ‘My rooms,’ Devlin said to the driver and, within seconds, the horses dashed over the uneven road as if they had wings hovering them above it.

  The carriage rolled to a stop not in front of the estate, but nearer the side, and Devlin released her hand to jump from the coach, rotating to hold out his arms for her.

  He lifted her from the carriage and swept her around in a half-circle before she could put her feet on the ground and she tumbled into him. She extricated herself, looking up into the moonlight reflecting from his eyes.

  He held out his arm and led her to a nondescript door far from the main entrance. The entryway had crossed swords on one wall and a case with a map and spyglass on the remaining side.

  ‘It’s the oldest part of the house. It’s private.’

  Inside, the air smelled differently from that the other side of the house. This was tantalisingly male. Leather. Ambergris. Wool. Burning oil from the lamp he’d lifted to shine the light to illuminate her steps.

  He led her into a room filled with overstuffed chairs and a large painting of a horse standing at sunrise. A newspaper lay folded on one of the seats and a fireplace took up most of one wall.

  He put the lamp on the table and his shadow reached well past the ceiling.

  ‘This is my home, my true home. I wasn’t given this suite until after I finished university. In fact, I never plan to relocate to the Earl’s rooms should my father die. I suppose I could feel differently later. But I don’t expect to. I could be a world apart from everyone else who resides here. I’m out of the family pathways, except for Payton’s because he could find me on another continent. Everyone knows they’d best not plan on sharing this area without my permission, and I don’t give it.’

  His desire for solitude surprised her and he seemed to want to set her at ease, and the effort welcomed her.

  Clasping an arm around her waist, he said, ‘You don’t have to worry about anyone disturbing us. I’ve never brought anyone here before, but since we met in this house, I wanted you to visit my suite.’

  He ran a hand up her back, drawing her close, and together they stood connected. She couldn’t think of anything except his presence and her awareness of the private man.

  Something told her that she was seeing inside him to a part he kept for himself and now wanted to share with her.

  The kiss he gave her as she folded her arms around him swept her from the reality of the night into a dream fuelled by his lips.

  He didn’t move away as he released the pins from her hair and let the locks fall aside. A heated, moist breath. A whisper of phrases that sounded endearing, murmured in a language she didn’t understand, and yet she grasped the lyrical words.

  A moment when his darkened eyes took her in before he pulled her closer, their bodies pressing. Her breasts tingled from the length of him and his hardness urged her nearer.

  He led her to a room that only had one shape she could make out in the darkness, a bed that overpowered the small room. He stepped to a dressing room at their side and shadows flickered as he set the lamp aside and grasped the top rung of a chair and slid it closer. She heard the easy slide of his boots and stockings being removed, but she watched the outline of the man, his movements illuminated by a single light that fixed her attention on his frame.

  After he put his boots aside, in a fluid stretch, he rose. He should have been diminished in his bare feet, but instead he appeared assured, commanding and taller. He took up the doorway space and crossed over the threshold, returning to her.

  A body designed by nature at her best. Perfection in every sinew and plane. Something he took for granted, yet her eyes could not.

  He stood before her, and nothing seemed rushed, but as if the universe slept just for them and the night would last for ever.

  In that second, she imagined the night unfolding and paused.

  He immediately stopped, his hand on the tie of his shirt. ‘We don’t have to continue. We can cease at any moment you wish. I’ll take you home now if that’s what you’d like.’

  ‘No. Not that.’ She rested her head against his shoulder. ‘It’s the lamplight.’

  ‘The light?’

  ‘Yes. Please put it out.’

  Immediately he doused the lamp, then he returned.

  ‘I don’t want you to see—’ she whispered.

  He waited.

  ‘My scars. I don’t want you to see. You must promise not to look.’

  ‘I assure you. I assure you that they don’t matter to me.’

  ‘I—I don’t want you to see them.’

  He ran a finger along the side of her face, not stopping until he’d traced the seam of her lips. ‘You’re priceless. A treasure. And you should never doubt that. Are you certain that is the only reason you’re hesitating?’

  ‘It is. It is. The only reason.’ She grasped his waist. ‘It seems so very important to make love to you. To know that I’m desirable and the scars don’t matter.’

  He lowered his head so it rested against hers, his fingers tangled in her hair and holding them close. ‘You can’t feel that—that we must make love to prove something so nonsensical. You must not even consider that you are any less perfect now than on the day you were born. You aren’t.’

  She didn’t speak.

  ‘Listen to my voice. Hear the truth in it. The only person who has any right to have any discomfort about the marks is you, because you felt them and you experienced the pain that grew with them. But no one has any justification to think them any less than another wondrous part of you, like your starlight eyes, your lips that taste of preciousness, your hair sweeping silken against my face and arousing me with each strand brushing me. How can any true man not adore your skin? It is a miracle of womanliness.’

  He
used both hands to hold her head, his thumbs at her cheeks, and he placed a tender kiss on her lips.

  ‘We cannot make love in an effort to make you feel more beautiful, Rachael. I would stop now if that were the reason. You must understand first that the scars are less to me than the smallest freckle you have. Only because they are a part of you are they of any consequence at all. You make them special—they do not diminish you.’

  Warmth followed by the hint of night blended with the taste of him. ‘Do you believe me?’ he asked.

  ‘I do.’

  A swathe of his essence enveloped her and her knees almost gave way as his touch fell to her shoulders and then down her arms to encircle her, holding her. It was as if he’d swept the floor from beneath her feet, his arms holding her tightly enough to keep her standing.

  Lips grazed her jawline, sending shivers throughout her body. She caught her breath, awash in the different textures of Devlin against her. The brush of his cheek, the texture of his hair, muscles flexing beneath the skin ignited her body.

  He found her mouth again. He tasted of lemon and brandy, his lips open so that their tongues could touch and their breaths blend.

  He backed away. She feared he’d changed his mind and she yearned for him in a way that was new to her.

  Instead, he led her to the bed, sat and ran his hand down her length, the curve of her increasing the intensity of feelings. She’d never expected so much of his masculinity could be absorbed by her body, just from the brush of fingertips.

  He pulled her on to his lap and held her with one arm while he removed her shoes and dropped them to the floor.

  She felt like a porcelain doll, perfect, held secure and cherished. Moments she would appreciate for ever.

  Burrowing her face against his skin, she breathed in, savouring the experience, prolonging the feel of their embrace.

  He stood, taking her with him and helping her to her feet.

  His lips cut off her ability to speak and she pressed her body nearer him, flattening into his shape, held as one against him. Instead of feeling a lesser person, she absorbed his strength, buoyed along with him surrounded by waves of yearning.