Miss Lillian eyed the man in question several target lanes away. Phee pressed the point. “See how strong his arms are? He’s a striking fellow. Say the word and I can change your seating assignment at dinner. Or you can go now and ask him for archery advice.”
“But he’s speaking with Lady Emma. Why would he pay attention to me instead?”
“I’ll take care of Lady Emma. Would you like to talk to him?”
Miss Lillian lifted her chin, appearing to draw determination around her like a cloak. “Yes, please. I would appreciate a proper introduction to Lord Hornsby.”
“In that case, come with me.” Phee dared a friendly wink and offered her arm.
* * *
Miss Lillian appeared to be moving on from her infatuation with Adam Hardwick, thanks to some deft maneuvering by his lady. Cal eyed the pair as they began an animated discussion with Hornsby and Emma. Making it seem like the most natural thing in the world, Phee and Emma split off from the group, leaving Hornsby and Miss Lillian to the archery and their conversation.
As Phee and his sister walked off, arm in arm, they seemed at ease with one another, smiling and chatting as they wandered across the grass, greeting guests. Cal had seen his sister flirt, and Emma wasn’t flirting with Phee, so at some point they must have struck up a friendship. Frankly, he didn’t know what he’d do if Emma had been flirting. If nothing else, it would have been terribly awkward, all things considered.
Analyzing the relationship between his sister and the woman who’d invaded every area of his heart struck him as rather ridiculous. Cal grinned as he stuffed arrows into the quiver. The situation appealed to his overdeveloped sense of the absurd. Someday their children would ask how they’d met, and they’d have quite the story.
His hands froze, and he looked up, searching for Phee among the guests milling about on the lawn. That was where this was going, wasn’t it? Marriage. A life together. Maybe even children. Even though he had no idea how they’d manage it, the dream of that future settled into his bones with a certainty he’d never known before. With his feelings teetering toward beautiful but scary and unfamiliar permanency, Cal kept looking until he spotted her still standing near Emma.
How the hell had she bamboozled everyone for years? The breeches she wore clung to slender thighs and molded around a delicious bottom designed to fit perfectly in his hands. The cut of her coat hid her upper body, but he knew her breasts were tender mouthfuls. He’d called her a selkie their first night at the lake, but he’d been wrong. She was a siren, and he was so damned lucky he’d heard her call.
She and Emma were still in conversation when he approached.
“Not him?” Phee asked.
“He seems like a lovely man. It would be awful to ruin that,” Emma said.
Cal missed the context, but with his fingers twitching to touch Phee inappropriately until she melted and made that delicious purring sound…well. Explanations could wait.
“Puppy, could you come with me, please?” He held his hand out for her to take before catching himself and turning the gesture into an awkward wave, as if sweeping his arm toward the house had been his intention all along.
“Certainly. If you’ll excuse us, Emma.” Phee bowed slightly, then turned toward the house with him. “What’s the rush?” she hissed.
“You’re too delectable for words, and I need to bury myself inside you until you clamp around my cock and make me see stars. Any objections?”
“Not a one. Walk faster.”
They made it as far as the side entrance of the house before the joy bubble burst. Baron Rosehurst and his daughter approached, making their first appearance of the day. It had been a relief to not have to deal with the baron over his bacon this morning. Beside him, Phee stiffened.
“Lord Carlyle, well met. Leaving the archery field so soon?” The baron’s overly familiar jolliness felt forced, and Miss Cuthbert pasted on a false smile. It was obvious they’d been bickering, and Cal wanted nothing more than to leave them to it.
“Something rather pressing came up, I’m afraid. But please join the others and enjoy.” Cal refused to slow and encourage conversation. “Miss Cuthbert, might I suggest asking the Duke of Gaffney for assistance with your quiver and bow? He should join the party shortly and won’t steer you wrong. You’ll be trouncing the others in no time.”
Once inside the house, Phee turned toward the stairs that led to their rooms, but Cal redirected her with a hand low on her back. “Too far away. Library.”
The heavy oak door slammed closed like a thunderclap under the weight of their bodies crashing together. Their first kiss clashed teeth and lips, with tongues tasting gasped words of encouragement. Keeping one hand against the door, Cal used his other to fumble for the buttons on Phee’s breeches.
The only thought driving him was getting inside her immediately. Desperation overrode finesse, but when he sank two fingers into the curls between her legs, the heat of her welcomed him. Pillowy lower lips wrapped around his fingers, and they moaned together.
“So wet, love,” he managed to say.
“More,” Phee demanded, riding his fingers.
The logistics made him swear. “This would be so much easier if you were in a gown.” She froze, and he could practically hear her brain whirring. Hell and blast. First running into the baron, and now he stuck his foot in his mouth. The mood could take only so much before it broke entirely.
He rushed to reassure her. “But then I couldn’t lust over these long legs and perfect arse all morning. The boots will take a bit to get off, though.”
Phee latched her lips onto the side of his neck for an openmouthed nibble that sent his knees trembling. “Easy enough to fix that,” she said against his rabbiting pulse, then turned and pressed her bum against Cal’s bulging placket.
Dragging her breeches down her thighs, Cal murmured, “Bless you, gorgeous woman.” His buttons gave way, and within seconds their groans mingled.
With their hands against the door, they set a pace ruthless in its efficiency. Her body drenching his, Cal wished he could strip her bare to enjoy the long lines of her arching before him. The slapping sound of them coming together matched the pounding of his heartbeat. Every noise she made as she met him thrust for thrust flung them closer to a finish line they both needed.
Releasing one of her hands, he sank his fingers into her damp curls and nearly came when he felt where their bodies joined. The wet slide of him diving into those tender folds was the most erotic thing he’d ever felt. It looked even better. Intimate and slightly obscene in the most delicious way.
He circled and flicked with the pad of his finger the way she liked, painting her clitoris with the slickness they’d made. As if flying apart one layer at a time, she shuddered, peeling away artifice and manners, until all that remained was the two of them wallowing in sensation.
Tremors racked her body. Her head rested against the wood door as if it were too heavy for her neck. Breath escaped her in whimpered gasps as Cal rode out her orgasm, shaking when her body milked him with her pleasure. Burying his face in the side of her neck, he slapped a palm against the door and thrust once, then twice before following her into oblivion. With his knees locked behind hers, they stayed pressed against the oak as they regained their breath. Her body was warm and languid around his cock, and he’d never felt anything so right in his entire life.
Abruptly, she turned her head and hissed, “You’re still inside me.”
He kissed her cheek. “You feel amazing.”
Phee wiggled away, pulling on her breeches with jerky movements. “No, you didn’t pull out, and we didn’t use a French letter.”
Her meaning slammed into him, but instead of panic, a wave of calm washed over his heart. Which proved once and for all there weren’t any lingering doubts about his feelings. He loved Phee. Strong, resilient, complicated Ophelia owned his heart, for better or for worse. Watching her grow with their child and raising a family together didn’t scare him in the
least.
But the timing couldn’t be worse, and she’d never said a word about children except to ask him to take precautions. Which he’d failed to do. “Fuck.”
“Yes. That’s exactly what just happened.”
Shaking his head, Cal scrambled for words. “No, that was more than—well, yes, but—” And to think, he’d once thought himself smooth with women. Phee undid him on every level. He sighed and tried again. “I’m sorry. You asked that I minimize the risk of a baby, and I didn’t do that. The last thing I want to do is put you in a position where you feel trapped with me.”
She tilted her head and gave him a quizzical look he couldn’t interpret. “You’re not upset?”
“No, love. Besides, it was my fault. Whatever happens, we handle together.” He smoothed the groove between her eyebrows until the lines softened.
“All right. We handle it together.”
She kissed him, light but lingering, and Cal sank his fingers into her fiery puff of hair, holding her close for another moment. “I love you. Whatever happens in our future, I welcome it if you’re by my side.”
For the rest of his days, he would remember the smile that crept over her face. It started in her eyes before finally lifting her cheeks and curving her mouth. “I love you too. I want a future with you,” she said.
They sank together against the door in a kiss. Several minutes later, she murmured, “We should return to your guests. Are you sure there isn’t something I could be doing to help? It feels odd to not have a job while I’m here.”
And have her tangled in the middle of all this? She had enough of her own worries. “No, love. Take this time to relax.”
Putting themselves to rights took a moment or two, but in the end, they were both presentable—although the color of Phee’s cheeks was like a flag declaring her freshly tumbled, and he couldn’t stop smiling. As long as they didn’t meet anyone in the halls on their way out of the house, they should be fine. Cal squeezed her hand, then let go as he opened the door.
Rotten luck or poor timing sent the two men on the other side of the wood tumbling into the room at that exact moment. If they hadn’t been embracing, they’d been on the verge.
Ainsley and Warrick sprang apart, then froze as they took in the sight he and Phee made. Standing too close, flushed, the smell of sex in the air—it was fairly obvious these two men weren’t the only ones who’d thought the library would be perfect for a tryst.
A smile spread over Lord Ainsley’s face. “Sorry to intrude, gentlemen.” Ainsley winked and then exchanged a grin with Warrick.
While Cal considered ways to handle this, Phee made the choice for him.
“Think nothing of it. Good day, milords,” she said, neither confirming nor denying anything.
Out in the hall, Cal nodded a greeting at Miss Georgina, who chose that moment to scamper, pink-cheeked, from a drawing room three doors away.
“Think they’ll say anything?” Phee whispered once Miss Georgina had disappeared down the corridor.
“Warrick and Ainsley? They were clearly planning to use the room for the same purpose. One would hope they’d provide discretion and expect it in return.”
The door to the same drawing room Miss Georgina had left opened again, and Gaffney slipped out, running a hand through his hair.
Cal and Phee shared a look. “The number of eligible bachelors at this party is dwindling rapidly,” she said.
Which meant his options for getting out of the mess were dwindling as well. Bloody hell.
Chapter Nineteen
Right at this moment, Cal and the Duke of Gaffney were in the library, and she hadn’t been invited. Since Phee was the one who’d done the legwork to look into Gaffney’s business proposal, being excluded stung. When she’d said as much, Cal had brushed a hand over her hair and said, “It’s nothing personal, love. Go enjoy the day with the guests. You’re here to relax, not work.”
It was awfully close to patting her on the head, and she’d nearly hissed and bitten his hand like a feral cat. Her temper seemed to shorten the longer this house party lasted.
Phee stopped under the branches of a giant elm and looked out over the lawn. Guests milled about in the sun near the lakeshore. Another few hours of scheduled activities, and she should be able to escape to her room. Not that sitting held much appeal when she really needed something to do. Genteel relaxation didn’t feel natural to her.
At least the mornings had normalcy, which made everything else a little easier. The daily fencing match with Cal was the highlight of this party as far as she was concerned. Now that she’d figured out his newest tricks, the balance of power had settled back to where it should be. Meaning she usually won. For a while there it had taken only a wink and a suggestive flick of his tongue to destroy her focus.
However, once they finished fencing, Phee had to share Cal with the rest of the guests.
The visitors at Lakeview had fallen into predictable habits of their own. The men gathered in a pack, like wolves. You rarely saw one without at least two others for company, as if they were afraid to wander alone and find themselves in the parson’s snare. They weren’t wrong, given the purpose of the party. The ladies spent their time in pairs or peaceful solitude.
Miss Georgina often found a corner with a book. She seemed to be a sweet enough girl, although difficult to get to know. When the other women were around, she didn’t participate too much. Phee suspected she might be painfully shy.
After witnessing the young woman and the Duke of Gaffney leaving the drawing room the other day, Phee paid more attention to the pair. If Gaffney lingered nearby, Miss Georgina blushed and stammered over her words. They were adorable but nearly painful to watch with their awkwardness. Clearly something was happening there.
Phee wanted to smooth things over and spark a conversation with them so they’d relax. But every time the urge struck her, she reminded herself that she was not the hostess; it wasn’t her job to ensure everyone enjoyed their time at Lakeview.
Lord Hornsby and Miss Lillian walked side by side, elbows occasionally brushing as they meandered toward the lake. Miss Lillian’s parasol hid their faces from the others who were already near the water’s edge, but Phee had an unobstructed view of how close he dared lean as they conversed.
A sound to her left alerted Phee to Cal and Gaffney leaving the house, still in conversation. When Cal looked up, he waved her over, so she pushed away from the tree and wandered in that direction. Since she was still a bit sore about being left out of the meeting, Phee didn’t want to appear eager, so she trailed casually behind them as they made their way toward the lake.
Down by the shore, Emma laughed at something Warrick said, then invited Hornsby and Miss Lillian over toward their small group.
As a hostess, Emma was a natural—at least, when her pregnancy wasn’t inducing her to vomit into household decorative objects. Eventually, Emma would have to come clean to Cal. Every day Phee asked her to, and every day Emma claimed this would be the day she confessed her condition to her brother. But by the time they said good night, Emma still hadn’t found the right moment. Phee had reported to Cal about his sister in the past, but this? This would change Emma’s life forever, and she needed to tell him herself.
Cal might want to marry off his sister to someone at this party, but that grew less likely by the day. Emma possessed enough of a conscience to realize that duping a perfectly nice gentleman and foisting off another man’s child might not be the best way to handle her life. Which left the girl with limited options.
At some point over the last ten days at Lakeview, she and Emma had become friends. Sort of. Having never had a female friend before, Phee wasn’t sure. The honesty between them was rather one-sided. But Emma came to Phee when she needed help or an excuse to get out of an activity.
Emma was different during their conversations. The humor and wit she showed reminded Phee of Cal, but they came out only when Emma stopped trying so hard to fulfill the diamond of the S
eason label. Did she occasionally act like a spoiled brat in need of a spanking? Absolutely.
But since Phee had discovered the truth about Emma’s condition, the girl had opened up. Parlor games in the evening allowed some couples to pair off under the guise of playing and left the unmatched guests with time on their hands. She and Emma often kept one another company.
The sweetness Cal’s sister revealed in those conversations came as a surprise. Sometimes it was painfully obvious how young Emma was. The girl had made poor decisions with Roxbury, but one couldn’t deny the unfairness of him leaving her alone to deal with the very adult consequences.
Not knowing how to help had kept Phee awake late into the night over the past week, despite Cal’s thorough efforts to exhaust her. Although sexual satisfaction and contentment hummed through her veins, and the man of her dreams slept beside her, heavy and warm, making their sheets smell like his spicy scent, she’d tossed and turned and worried through the hours. A bloody shame, when she should be wallowing in their orgasms and then slipping into blissful dreams before creeping back to her room in the wee hours of the morning.
Keeping their relationship secret grew more difficult by the day, and Phee occasionally wanted to intervene when one of the ladies flirted with him—never mind that there wasn’t any danger of another guest distracting his attention from her. But it was the principle of the thing.
Cal loved her. She loved him. The future was unsure, but they’d discover it together. If she ever doubted that, she need only remember their frantic lovemaking in the library and the potential consequences. They’d been careful since then, but God knew it only took once.
Maybe this wanting to publicly claim him was a natural side effect of suppressing herself for all these years. A couple of weeks of being allowed free rein, and now her femininity felt a bit feral—out of control and prowling under her skin, demanding an escape from the guise of her brother’s persona.
West End Earl Page 20
